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 Saint 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 ; 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 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 ARMADA. ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise : I sing of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet, invincible, against her bore in vain, The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts in Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer's day, There came a gallant merchant-ship, full sail to Plymouth bay; The crew had seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves, lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase. Forthwith a guard, at every gun, was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecombe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out, to pry along the coast; And with loose rein, and bloody spur, rode inland many a post. With his white hair, unbonnetted, the stout old sheriff comes; Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the drums. The yeomen, round the market cross, make clear an ample space, For there behoves him to set up the standard of her Grace: And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow, upon the labouring wind, the royal blazon swells. Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down! So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield: So glared he when, at Agincourt, in wrath he turned to bay, And, crushed and torn, beneath his claws the princely hunters lay, Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, sir knight! ho! scatter flowers, fair maids! Ho, gunners! fire a loud salute! ho, gallants! draw your blades! Thou, sun, shine on her joyously! ye breezes, waft her wide! Our glorious semper eadem! the banner of our pride! The fresh'ning breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold. Night sunk upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea; Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford bay, That time of slumber was as bright, as busy as the day; For swift to east, and swift to west, the warning radiance spread High on St. Michael's Mount it shone-it shone on Beachy Head. Far o'er the deep, the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire, The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves, The rugged miners poured to war, from Mendip's sunless caves: O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge-the rangers of Beaulieu. Right sharp and quick the bells rang out, all night, from Bristol town; And, ere the day, three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down. The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw, o'erhanging Richmond Hill, that streak of bloodred light. The bugle's note, and cannon's roar, the deathlike silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke; At once, on all her stately gates, arose the answering fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear, And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer: And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurry ing feet, And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each rousing street; And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in; And eastward straight, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went; And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent: Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth; High on black Hampstead's swarthy moor, they started for the north; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still; All night from tower to tower they sprang, all night from hill to hill; Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Derwent's rocky dales; Till, like volcanoes, flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales; Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height; Till streamed in crimson, on the wind, the Wrekin's crest of light. Till, broad and fierce, the star came forth, on Ely's stately fane, And town and hamlet rose in arms, o'er all the boundless plain: |