“Aubier, my friend, my brother,” exclaimed Monsieur Mille, “I am fired with poetical enthusiasm. I am about to compose an ode which shall be dedicated to you. Listen:—
Friend, behold the concourse grand,
From far and wide assembled there,
The mainstays of our own loved land,
Whose banners proudly take the air:
Love it is directs their path
Toward the patriot altar-fires,
Each his bounden service hath
Vowed, till Life’s last flame expires.”[[8]]