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With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel

peers,

15 And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears;

There rode the blood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land;

And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand;

And, as we look'd on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,

And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;

20 And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,

To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of

Navarre.

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

drest;

And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.

He look'd upon his people, and a tear was in his

eye;

25 He look'd upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.

Right graciously he smil'd on us, as roll'd from wing to wing,

Down all our line, in deafening shout: "God save our lord, the king!"

"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well

he may,

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody

fray,

30 Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war,

And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of
Navarre."

Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din,

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin.

The fiery duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's

plain,

35 With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.

Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,

Charge for the golden lilies now upon them with the lance!

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest;

40 And in they burst, and on they rush'd, while, like a guiding star,

Amidst the thickest carnage blaz'd the helmet of
Navarre.

Now, God be prais'd, the day is ours: Mayenne
hath turn'd his rein,

D'Aumale hath cried for quarter; the Flemish
Count is slain,

Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before
a Biscay gale;

45 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 foe:

Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go."

50 Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,

As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of

Navarre?

Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France to-day;

And many a lordly banner God gave them for a

prey.

But we of the religion have borne us best in fight; 55 And the good lord of Rosny hath ta'en the cornet white

Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath

ta'en;

The cornet white, with crosses black the flag of false Lorraine.

Up with it high; unfurl it wide;-that all the host may know

How God hath humbled the proud house which wrought His Church such woe.

60 Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest point of war,

Fling the red shreds a footcloth meet for Henry of Navarre.

Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Luzerne Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return.

Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,

65 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. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night;

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 valor

of the brave.

70 Then glory to His holy name, from whom all

glories are;

And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of
Navarre!

Alfred Tennyson

1809-1892

LOCKSLEY HALL

(From Poems, 1842)

COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn:

Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.

'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the
curlews call,

Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over
Locksley Hall;

5 Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,

And the hollow-ocean ridges roaring into cata

racts.

Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I
went to rest,

Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the
West.

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade,

10 Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver

Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime

With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;

When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;

When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed.

15 When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;

Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;

In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;

20 In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young,

And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung.

And I said, 'My Cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me,

Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee.'

25 On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour

and a light,

As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night.

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