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BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.
1 Vintage, wine.
hence the flowers themselves.
dressers in Provence. 4 Beaker, a drinking-bowl. 6 Hippocrene, a fountain at the foot of
Mount Helicon in Boeotia. The Muses frequented the spot, and bestowed their sacred favours on all who drank of the limpid waters.
6 Charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
conveyed by the wine-god in a chariot drawn by panthers. Bacchus is represented, in classical mythology, as drawn by tigers,
lions, lynxes, or panthers. 7 Fays, fairies, elves. 8 Requiem, a dirge or hymn sung
for the dead, 9 Through the sad heart of Ruth. See
the beautiful Scripture narrative in the book of Ruth.
BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.
With some good ten of his chosen men,
Bernardo hath appeared,
The lying king to beard.1
in hand and eye on ground,
And flame 2 broke from his eyes.
A curse upon thee,' cries the king,
Who com'st unbid to me!
Save traitor like to thee ?-
Perchance our champion brave
To share Don Sancho's grave.'
Hath rashness to repeat,'
Before the liar's feet.
No stain in mine doth lie :
The coward calumny?
BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.
* Ye swore upon your kingly faith
To set Don Sancho free;
The light he ne'er did see:
By Alphonso's base decree ;
Were all they gave to me.
The king that swerveth from his word,
Hath stained his purple black :
Behind a liar's back.
And open hate I 'll shew;
And Bernard is his foe!'
'Seize—seize him !’ loud the king doth scream :
“There are a thousand here ;
To move a finger dareth :
And calm his sword he bareth.
He drew the falchion from its sheath,
And held it up on high ;
Cries Bernard : “Here am I;
Excepting Heaven and me:
King, condé,5 or grandee.'6
Then to his mouth his horn he drew
It hung below his cloak;
And through the ring they broke.
With helm on head, and blade in hand,
The knights the circle brake,
And the false king to quake.
What means this warlike guise ?
Ye know your worth I prize!'
And, smiling, passed away.
J. G. Lockhart.
1 Beard, to reprove face to face.
4 Caitiffs, cowards.
BATTLE OF THE LEAGUE. 1 Oh ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array ; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. 2 There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! And dark Mayenne 4 was in the midst, a truncheon in his
hand ; And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled
flood, And good Coligni's 5 hoary hair all dabbled with his blood; And we cried unto the living Power who rules the fate of
war, To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre ! The king is come to marshal us, all in his armour drest ; And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and
BATTLE OF THE LEAGUE.
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled, from wing to
wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout, ‘Long live our lord the
King.'— "And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he mayFor never saw I promise yet of such a bloody frayPress where you see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks
And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre.'
Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled din
lance !' A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding
star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Now, Heaven 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 !'11 was passed from man to
man ; But out spake gentle Henry : 'No Frenchman is my foe:
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 ! 12
return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, 13 That Antwerp 14 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,15 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 !
1 Battle of the League. During the reign
of Henry III. of France, the Roman Catholics formed a league for the extermination of the Huguenots from that country. Henry, Duke of Guise, headed the League, while Henry, king of Navarre, became the acknowledged leader of the Protestants. On the death of Henry III., the crown of France devolved on the king of Navarre, under the title of Henry IV. But he had still to contend with the Leaguers, who met him, with the Duke of Mayenne at their head, in the celebrated fields of Arques and Ivry. The battle of Ivry was the crisis of the struggle. The army of the League was totally defeated, and the Huguenots triumphed. This victory was gained eighteen years after the
Massacre of St Bartholomew. 2 Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's
Flemish spears. Swiss Catholics joined the League, and several troops from the Low Countries were led by Count Egmont.
3 Brood of false Lorraine. Lorraine was
brother of the Duke of Guise, and as inveterate in his hatred of the
Protestants. 4 Mayenne was another brother of Guise,
and after the assassination of the latter became Lieutenant-general of France, and leader of the
Coligni, better known as Admiral
mew he was the first victim.
of France. 7 Culverin, an old kind of cannon. 8 St André's plain, the battle-field. 9 Guelders, a province of the Nether
lands from which many mercenary
troops had been levied. 10 Almayne, Germany, from Allemanni,
the ancient name of the confederate
tribes. 11 Remember St Bartholomew! The re
membrance of that bloody Sunday