C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Robert Cameron Rogers (1862–1912)
À Outrance
H
It’s barely a half after four;
My head, too, is—ah! I remember
That little affair at the shore.
Well, I had forgotten completely!
I must have been drinking last night.—
Rapiers, West Sands, and sunrise;—
But whom, by the way, do I fight?
He started it all, did he not?
I drank to his wife—but, the devil!
He needn’t have gotten so hot.
Just see what a ruffler that man is,
To give me a challenge to fight,
And only for pledging milady
A half-dozen times in a night.
The sun just beginning to rise,—
A glorious day for one’s spirit
To pilgrimage off to the skies—
God keep mine from any such notion;—
This dual’s à outrance, you see.—
I haven’t confessed for a month back,
And haven’t had breakfast, tant pis!
The tide is well out; and how red
The sunrise is painting the ocean;—
Is that a sea-gull overhead?
And here come De Genlis and Virron:
Messieurs, we were waiting for you
To complete, with the sea and the sunrise,
The charming effect of the view.
Your orders, Marigny and I.
On guard then it is,—we must hasten:
The sun is already quite high.
Where now would you like me to pink you?
I’ve no choice at all, don’t you see;
And any spot you may desire
Will be convenable for me.
Last night, with the thirst of a fish;
I’ve vigor enough though to kill you,
Mon ami, and that’s all I wish.
Keep cool, keep your temper, I beg you,—
Don’t fret yourself— Now by your leave
I’ll finish you off— Help, Marigny!
His sword’s in my heart, I believe.
The Amontillado last night—
Was drinking, you know, and my hand shook;—
My head, too, was dizzy and light.
And I the best swordsman in Paris!
No priest, please, for such as I am—
I’m going— Good-by, my Marigny;
De Genlis, my love to Madame.