While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.

And once, alas ! nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weepings heard where only joy has been ;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,
He rests in holy earth with them that went before.

And such is Human Life; so gliding on, It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!



WHEN Israel, of the Lord belov’d,

Out from the land of bondage came, Her fathers' God before her mov'd,

An awful guide in smoke and flame. By day, along th' astonish'd lands

The cloudy pillar glided slow; By night, Arabia's crimson'd sands

Return’d the fiery column's glow. There rose the choral hymn of praise,

And trump and timbrel answer'd keen, And Zion's daughters pour’d their lays,

With priests' and warriors' voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,

Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,

And Thou hast left them to their own.

But, present still, though now unseen!

When brightly shines the prosp'rous day, Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen,

To temper the deceitful ray.

And, oh! when stoops on Judah's path

In shade and storm the frequent night,
Be Thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,

A burning and a shining light!

Our harps we left by Babel's streams,

The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,

And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn ;
But Thou hast said the blood of goat,

The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
A contrite heart, an humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice. I



The king is come to marshal us, in all his armour

drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his

gallant crest. He looả’d upon his people, and a tear was in his

eye; He look'd upon the traitors, and his glance was

stern and high.

1 Psalm li.

* Near Dreux (Dept. de l' Eure). In this battle, fought 1590, Henry IV. gained a signal victory over the army of the League, composed of French and Spanish, and commanded by the Duke of Mayenne. Henry's address to his soldiers was "Mes amis, vous êtes Français, je suis votre roi ; plus de gens, plus d'honneur. Si l'étendard vous manque, suivez mon panache, vous le verrez toujours au chemin de l'honneur et du devoir.” It was doubtless in recollection of these words that, at the battle of Rocroy, the great Condé (then Duc d'Enghien) would not wear a helmet, but went to battle in a hat with white feathers, which served as a rallying point to his soldiers.


Right graciously he smild on us, as rollid from wing to wing,

[our Lord the King !” Down all our line a deafening shout,

66 God save “ And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well

he may,

“ For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, “ Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war,

[Navarre." “ And be your oriflammel to-day, the helmet of Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din

[culverin! Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. André's plain,

[Almayne. With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of

Charge for the golden lilies now

upon them with the lance ! A thousand spears are striking deep, a thousand

spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the

snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rush’d, while, like

a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blaz'd the helmet of


1 The sacred standard of France, which used to be preserved in the Abbey of St. Denis.

• Culverin, a species of ordnance. In the beginning of the 15th century, the different kinds of cannon were called either by the names of birds, on account of the swiftness of their motion, as falconet, saker, culverin (all species of hawks); or by the names of animals, as indicative of their cruelty and destructiveness, as basilisk, serpentine, dragon, syren, aspic. They at present take their names from the weight of the ball they discharge.

Now, God be prais'd, the day is ours ! Mayenne

hath turn'd his rein, D'Aumalel hath cried for quarter. The Flemish

Count 2 is slain. Their ranks are breaking, like thin clouds before a

Biscay gale ; The field is heap'd with bleeding steeds, and flags,

and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along

our van, Remember St. Bartholomew !” was pass’d from

man to man : But out spake gentle Henry, “No Frenchman is my


Down, down with every foreigner ; but let your

brethren go.” Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or

in war,

As our Sovereign Lord King Henry, the soldier of


Ho! maidens of Vienne; ho! matrons of Lucerne, Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who

never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy

poor spearmen's souls. Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your

arms be bright: Ho! burghers of St. Geneviève 3, keep watch and

ward to-night;

i Governor of Paris.

: Count Egmont, who commanded the Flemish troops sent by Philip II.

: Paris, of which city St. Geneviève was the patron saint, in consequence of the signal services which she had rendered to its inhabitants. When the barbarians, under Attila, threatened Paris, St. Geneviève animated the citizens, and persuaded For our God hath crush'd the tyrant, our God hath

rais'd the slave, And mock'd the counsel of the wise, and the valour

of the brave. Then glory to His holy name, from whom all

glories are; And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre.



THERE's beauty all around our paths, if but our

watchful eyes Can trace it 'midst familiar things, and through

their lowly guise ; We

may find it where a hedge-row showers its

blossoms o'er our way, Or a cottage window sparkles forth in the last red

light of day.

We may find it where a spring shines clear, beneath

an aged tree, With the foxglove o'er the water's glass borne

downwards by the bee: Or where a swift and sunny gleam on the birchen

stems is thrown As the soft wind playing parts the leaves, in copses

green and lone. them not to desert the city. At another time, when they were suffering from a long scarcity, St. Geneviève ascended the Seine to Troyes and brought them abundance of supplies. It is also said that she was instrumental in the conversion of Clovis. She built, at her own expense, a church on the spot where St. Denis and his companions had received martyrdom; and she was buried in the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, which she had induced Clovis to build, and in which that prince was also interred.

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