THE DEPARTURE.
I.
Wandered forth the young child Lez-Breiz
From his mother’s side,
Early on a summer morning,
Through the forest wide.
There the shade and sunlight glancing
On the armor played
Of a mounted knight, advancing
Through the greenwood glade.
Under spreading oaks and beeches
Rode the steel-clad knight,
Till his warlike splendors nearer
Flashed on Morvan’s sight.
“‘Tis the great Archangel Michael,”
Thought the child, and then
Straight he crossed himself devoutly,
Ere he gazed again.