Illustrious Emperor, Alexander's heir, France welcomes thee, on this occasion fair. In tongue of gods she bids me greetings bring; Poets alone may thus address a King.

We uttered a "phew" of relief. The insolent braggart was none other than a poet, whose name Charlotte told us was José Maria de Heredia!

And you, Madame, who on this happy day Alone a peerless loveliness display, Let me, through you, bestow an accolade On grace divine, of which your own is made!

The cadence of the verses intoxicated us. To our ears the resonance of the rhymes celebrated extraordinary marriages between words that were far apart: "stream-dream," "gold-untold."… We sensed that only such verbal artifices could express the exotic nature of our French Atlantis:

Behold the city! Fervent acclamation From flag-decked Paris soars in celebration,

Where both in palace and in humble street

The three brave colors of our two lands meet…

'Neath golden poplars, all along her banks The Seine conveys a joyful people's thanks. Affection follows where our eyes may see: France greets her guests with all her energy!

Great works of peace are put in hand today: This mighty arch will rise to lead the way From this age into that which onward lies, Linking two peoples and two centuries.

From this historic shore e'er each departs May French hearts find response in both your hearts. Before this bridge, sire, dream, and meditate, Which to thy father France doth consecrate.

Like him, be strong: but merciful thy word; Keep in its sheath thy battle-glorious sword; Warrior at peace, bring peace to thine own land. Tsar, let the spinning world turn in thy hand.

And like thy sire, keep earth in balance still: Thy powerful arm sustain thy tireless will; This honor is thy greatest legacy: To win the love of a people that is free.