62 THE WAR OF THE LEAGUE. 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 Saint Andrè's plain, 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; And in they burst, and on they rush'd, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, 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; 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.' 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 ! 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 Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night! For our God hath crush'd the tyrant, our God hath raised 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. THE NEGLECTED CHILD. BY THOMAS H. BAYLY. I NEVER was a favourite My mother never smiled That bless'd her fairer child; 64 THE NEGLECTED CHILD. And yet I strove to please, with all How blessed are the beautiful! I learn'd to know thy worth ;- And wish'd-for others wish'd it too I'm sure I was affectionate, But in my sister's face, There was a look of love that claim'd A smile or an embrace. But when I raised my lip, to meet They spoke not in my eyes. But oh! that heart too keenly felt I saw my sister's lovely form With gems and roses deck'd; But soon a time of triumph came- "Twas then, unwearied, day and night, She lived!-and loved me for my care!- WHERE ARE THEY? BY JOHN MALCOLM. OUR Fathers! where are they? and where Beyond the wanderings of the morn, The vanish'd comet long deem'd lost, From darkness reappears. 66 WHERE ARE THEY? Seas ebb and flow upon the shore, Thou sun that light'st the boundless skies, Ye breathe not of their place of rest, TO MRS. HEMANS. THY spirit hath a pure, embalming ray, Thus o'er the world of human feeling, thou |