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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 Appenzell’s stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears.
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land;
And dark Mayenne 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 hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;
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 looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye;
He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing,
Down all our line, a 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, -
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. André'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, – 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 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’Aumâle 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 ?

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;
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. 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 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 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 valor of the brave:
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are;
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre.

AN EPISTLE OF MARTIN MARPRELATE.

["MARTIN MARPRELATE was the name signed to a number of pamphlets, issued chiefly 1588–90, in the interest of the Puritan party against the upholders of the Anglican discipline — a part of the warfare which drew out Hooker's famous book on ecclesiastical polity. Their contents ranged all the way from serious proofs that the Anglican doctrines contained the purest Roman-Catholicism, and that the Puritan preachers were being hounded to death and their works suppressed only for combating the essence of the anti-Protestant system, down to the savagest personal lampoons and degrading stories of the bishops. The authorship was never certainly known; but after chasing the press from place to place, the government threw one Udall into prison to die, put two others, Penry and Barrowe, to death in 1593, and the Marprelate tracts thereafter ceased.]

May it please your honorable worships to let worthy Martin understand / why your Canterburinesse and the rest of the L. Bb.1 favor papists and recusants / rather than puritans. For if a puritane preacher / having a recusant in his parrish / and shall go about to deale with the recusant for not comming to church. Sir, will the recusant say / you and I will answere the matter before his grace / (or other the high commissioners / as L. Bb. Seevillaines (I meane) popish doctors of the bawdie courts.) And assoone as the matter is made knowne unto my Lorde / the preacher is sure to go by the worst / and the recusant to carie all the honestie: Yea the preacher shalbe a busie envious fellow / one that doth not observe the booke / and conforme himself according unto order / and perhaps go home by beggers bush / for any benefice he hath to live upon. For it may be the Bb. will be so good unto him / as to deprive him for not subscribing. As for the recusant / he is known to be a man that must have the libertie of his conscience. Is this good dealing brethren. And is it good dealing / that poore men should be so troubled to the chauncellors courte / that they are even wearie of their lives / for such horrible oppression as there raignes. I tell you D. Stannop (for all you are so proude) a premunire will take you by the backe one day / for oppressing and tyrannizing over her Majesties subjects as you doe.

1 Lords Bishops.

Doth your grace remember / what the Jesuit at Newgate sayde of you / namely / that my Lorde of Canterburyshould surely be a Cardinall / if ever poperie did come againe into England : (yea and that a brave Cardinall to) what a knave was this Jesuit ? beleeve me I would not say thus much of my Lord of Canterburie/ for a thousand pound / lest a Scandalum magnatum should be had against me : But well fare him that sayd thought is free.

Pitifully complayning / is there any reason (my Lords grace) why knave Thackwell the printer / which printed popishe and trayterous welshe bookes in wales / shoulde have more favour at your gracelesse handes / then poore Walde-graue / who never printed booke against you / that contayneth eyther treason or impietie. Thackwell is at libertie to walke where he will / and permitted to make the most he could of his presse and letters: whereas Robert Walde-grave dares not shew his face for the bloodthirstie desire you have for his life / onely for printing of bookes which toucheth the bishops Myters. You know that Walde-graves printing presse and Letters were takken away: his presse being timber / was sawen and hewed in pieces / the yron work battered and made unserviceable / his Letters melted / with cases and other tooles defaced (by John Woolfe / alias Machiuill / Beadle of the Stationers / and most tormenting executioner of Walde-graves goods) and he himselfe utterly deprived for ever printing againe / having a wife and sixe small 1 Richard Stanhope, D.D.

2 Archbishop Whitgift.

children. Will this monstrous crueltie never bee revenged thinke you? When Walde-graves goods was to be spoiled and defaced / there were some printers / that rather then all the goods should be spoyled / offered money for it / towardes the reliefe of the mans wife and children / but this coulde not be obtayned / and yet popishe Thackwell / though hee printed popish and trayterous bookes / may have the favour to make money of his presse and letters. And reason to. For Walde-grave's profession overthroweth the popedome of Lambehith, but Thackwels popery maintayneth the same. And now that Walde-grave hath neither presse nor letters / his grace may dine and sup the quieter. But looke to it brother Canterburie / certainly without your repentance / I feare me / youshal be Hildebrand A fyrebrand in deed. Walde-grave hath left house and home / by indeed. reason of your unnaturall tyrannie: having left behinde him a poore wife and sixe Orphanes / without any thing to relieve them. (For the husband you have bereaved both of his trade and goods.) Be you assured that the crie of these will one day prevaile against you/ unlesse you desist from persecuting. And good your grace/I do now remember my selfe of More another printer / that had presse and letter in a place knavery. called Charterhouse in London (in Anno 1587. neere about the time of the Scottish Queens death) intelligence was given unto your good grace of the same / by some of the Stacioners of London / it was made knowen unto you what worke was in hand / what letter the booke was on / what volume / vz. in 80 in halfe sheetes / what workemen wroght on the same: namely / I.C. the Earle of Arundels man and three of his servants / with their severall names / what liberallitie was bestowed on those workemen / and by whom / &c. Your grace very Pope gave the Stationers the hearing of this matter / but indeed that to this daye the parties were never calde in Coram poperie and for it: but yet by your leave my Lord / upon this knavery. information unto your honorable worship / the stacioners had newes / that it was made knowne unto the printers / what was done unto your good grace / and presently in steed

It may be of the work which was in hand / there was another you hindred appointed / as they saye/authorized by your Lordship. of many

her Majestie I will not saye it was your owne doing / but by your thousands of sleeve / thought is free. And my good L. (nay you pounds. shalbe none of my L. but M. Whitgift and you will) are you partiall or no in all your actions tell me? yes you are ? I will

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Is not he a

VOL. XII.

Lord.

stand to it? did you get a decree in the high court of Starchamber onely for Walde-grave? if it bee in generall (and you partiall) why set you not that printing presse and letters out of Charterhouse / and destroye them as you did Walde-graves ? Why did you not apprehend the parties / why? Because it was poperie at the least / that was printed in Charterhouse : and that maintayneth the crowne of Canterburye? And what is more tollerable then popery? Did not your grace of late erecte a new printer contrary to the foresayd decree? One Thomas Orwine (who sometimes wrought popish bookes in corners : namely Jesus Psalter / our Ladies Psalter / &c.) with condition he should print no such seditious bookes as Walde-grave hath This is no

done? Why my Lorde ? Walde-grave never printed knavery my any thing against the state / but onely against the

usurped state of your Paultripolitanship / and your pope holy brethren / the Lorde B. and your Antichristian swinish rable / being intollerable withstanders of reformation / enemies of the Gospell / and most covetous wretched / and popish priests.

Nowe most pitifully complayning / Martin Marprelate : That the papistes will needs make us beleeve / that our good John of Canterbury and they / are at no great jarre in religion. For Reignolds the papist at Rheimes / in his booke against M. Whitakers / commendeth the works written by his grace / for the defence of the corruption of our Churche / against T. Cartwright. And sayth that the said John Cant. hath many things in him / which evidently shew a catholike perswasion. Alas my masters shall we loose our metropolitan in this sort. Yet the note is a good note / that we may take heed the Spaniards steale him not away / it were not amisse if her Maiestie knew of it. Wee need not fear (if we can keep him) the Spaniards and our other popish enemies / because our metropolitans religion and theirs differ not much. In the article of Christes descending into hell / they jumpe in one right pat : and in the mayntenaunce of the hierarchie of Bb. and ascribing the name of priest / unto them that are ministers of the gospel. I know not whether my next tale will be acceptable unto his grace or not. But have it among you my masters : M. Wiggington the pastor of Sidborough / is a man not altogether unknowen

And I think his worshipfull grace got little or nothing by medling with him / although he hath deprived him. My tale is of his deprivation / which was after this sort. The

unto you.

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