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While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
And once, alas ! nor in a distant hour,
And such is Human Life; so gliding on, It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
HYMN OF THE HEBREW MAID.
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.
Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
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,
A burning and a shining light!
Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn ;
The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
THE BATTLE OF IVRY.2
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
“ 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
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
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
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.
OUR DAILY PATHS.
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.