And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein D'Aumale hath cried for quarter-the Flemish Count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, "Remember St. Bartholomew!" was passed from man to man: But out spake gentle Henry-" No Frenchman is my foe; 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 Navarre! Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne ; 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. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to night; For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, And mocked 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! MACAULAY. THE RAINBOW. TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky Still seem as to my childhood's sight, Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that optics teach unfold When Science from Creation's face And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, When, o'er the green undeluged earth, And when its yellow lustre smiled Methinks thy jubilee to keep, 331 Nor ever shall the Muse's eye The Earth to thee her incense yields, How glorious is thy girdle, cast As fresh in yon horizon dark, For, faithful to its sacred page, CAMPBELL. A BOAT RACE, AND WRECK OF A BOAT. ONE gusty day, now stormy and now still, Men from the town, their thoughts, their fears the same. All deeply feeling for their sailors' lives. The strife continued: in a glass we saw Then filled and sank-and could be seen no more! A gathering crowd from different streets drew near; CRABBE. THE GAMBLER'S WIFE. DARK is the night-how dark! No light! no fire! For him who pledged her love-last year a bride! "Hark! "Tis his footstep! No! 'Tis past !-'tis gone!" "Rest thee, my babe !-rest on !-'Tis hunger's cry! Sleep!-for there is no food!—the fount is dry! Famine and cold their wearying work have done; My heart must break! And thou !"-The clock strikes one. "Hush! "Tis the dice-box! Yes, he's there!-he's there! For this—for this, he leaves me to despair! Leaves love-leaves truth-his wife-his child-for what? The wanton's smile-the villain-and the sot! "Yet I'll not curse him. No! "Tis all in vain! "Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again ! And I could starve, and bless him, but for you, My child! My child! Oh fiend!"-The clock strikes two. "Hark! How the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by. Moan! moan! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky! Ha! 'Tis his knock! He comes!-he comes once more!" 'Tis but the lattice flaps! Thy hope is o'er! "Can he desert us thus? He knows I stay, "Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart! Thou'rt cold!-thou'rt freezing! But we will not part! Husband!-I die! Father!-It is not he! O God! protect my child !"-The clock strikes three. They're gone! they're gone! the glimmering spark hath fled! The wife and child are numbered with the dead! The gambler came at last-but all was o'er ; Dread silence reigned around.-The clock struck four. HOME. I KNEW my father's chimney top, Wayworn I traced the homeward track, COATES. |