These tyrannic States decks with plunder and The hope of success set his heart in a flame; show. And reckless of danger that high rank would bring,

In secret he longed for the title of king.

There no princes appear, no lords of the land, Who in rank with our ancient peers take their stand,Who seated near kings, and of France judges Then Potier rose and demands to be heard.3 born, His great moral worth gave force to the word. Still hold its appearance, though of power they In these dissolute times with vice so infected, are shorn.

Of our parliament then the wise deputies sent
No eloquence now for our liberties spent.
The place of its usual lilies is shorn,

And a new pomp and splendor the Louvre

adorn.

Potier's unbending justice was always respected.
His masculine power was known to repress
The license that otherwise ran to excess.
His ancient authority still was preserved,
And justice with strictest impunity served.
He raises his voice, and the murmurings cease.
They surround him; they listen; they all keep
their peace.

And thus, in a ship by the rude ocean stirred,
When the shouts of the sailors no longer are
heard,

No sound meets the ear but the foam at the prow,

As her way to the harbor she hastens to plough. Thus Potier appeared. While for justice he spoke,

No sound but his voice on the deep silence broke.

"Mayenne you elect for your king by your
voice;

Your error I see, and can pardon your choice.
The virtues of Mayenne are worthy his name,
And if left to my choice, then my choice were
the same;

Declares to the legate, in his favor to keep, That the lilies must under the tiara weep, They that bloody tribunal in Paris must place,2 Of the power of the monks both the sign and disgrace, Which, acknowledged in Spain, is regarded But the law is supreme, and this man of with shame,

renown,

And avenging her altars, but serves to de- If he empire accept, is unworthy the crown." fame,

train

Which, covered with blood, is the funeral pyre, As he spoke, Mayenne enters, and with him a
And men are the food of its sacred fire.
As if those dark ages again were restored,
When merciless gods by mankind were adored,
And priests, still more cruel, with falsehood

would state

Human victims were needed those gods to placate!

Another, his purse with the gold of Spain etored,

His country would sell to the Spaniards ab

horred.

But a powerful party, with one common voice, Declared for Mayenne as the king of their choice.

That rank was now due to his powerful name.

And a pomp that to royalty only pertain.
That Potier sees, but abates not his force,
And unchanged in features, pursues his dis-

course.

"Yes, prince," he exclaimed, “though my
reverence is great,

I dare to oppose you for France and our State.
No statute the right of election declares;
While France has her Bourbons, the sceptre is
theirs.

Your rank next in order you proudly may own;
God has placed you to serve, not to usurp, the

throne.

From the shadowy world, no claim can Guise bring;

For his ashes sufficient the blood of a king.
He died by a crime, and by crime was repaid;
Change, then, with the State, that by Heaven is
made;

E'en the wicked recoil when the shaft of truth flies.

Their minds are disturbed both by anger and fear,

Let the death of Valois your just revenge smoth- When a thousand strong voices now burst on

er;
Bourbon has not shed the blood of your brother.
You are both dear to Heaven, then live not as
foes;

Abuse not the virtues that Heaven bestows;
But murmurs I hear, and the populace shout;
Heretic and apostate are bandied about.

By false zeal excited, the priests the cross drop
And seize hold of the sword. Stop, wretched
men, -stop!

What law, what example, or rather what rage
To God's own anointed can release you from
homage?

Is the son of St. Louis, to his oath a defaulter,
Coming here to subvert or to blaspheme God's

altar?

From the foot of the altar he counsel would take;

And the laws he reveres which you wantonly break.

Virtue truly he honors in every sect;

Would your worship and even your errors re-
spect.

To God he would leave, the true Judge of men,
The power you rashly usurp to condemn.

He would reign as your king, your father, your
friend,

the ear,

And a cry is sent forth by the factious host,
"Arm, citizens, arm! we are lost,—we are
lost!"'

Dense volumes of dust in the air now arise,
And the light of the heavens conceals from the
eyes.
The trumpet's brass throat and the doubling

druia

Proclaim that the hour of battle has come. Thus descending on earth from the caves of the north,

By thunder preceded, the tempest bursts forth. Clouds of dust on the wings of the whirlwind arise,

And onward are borne in its path through the skies.

It was Henry's army that, hating repose
And thirsting for blood from their insolent foes,
Made the clamor and shouts that were heard
from afar,

And the citizens called to the struggle of war.

Bourbon wasted not hours so dear in his sight

And more Christian than you, would his par- By honoring the king with a funeral rite,
don extend.

He gives freedom to all; should he not be free?
Who authorized you the king's judges to be?
Ye infidel pastors, fierce men and bold,
How little ye act like the Christians of old,
Who the worship refused of metal and plaster,
Followed meekly behind their idolatrous mas-

ter,

By inscribing with titles the stone at his head,
Which the pride of the living bestows on the
dead.

By the river his hand no mausoleum placed,
Or by statue of marble bis sepulchre graced,
By which the great hope, in the pride of their
heart,

To deaden the point of death's envious dart. Without murmurs expired, and, strong in the In the unadorned grave wherein Valois was

In a moment, Mayenne has mounted the ramparts;

The soldiers, assembled, have rushed to their standards,

To a language so bold not a word was replied;
Such evident facts contradiction defied.
In vain their galled conscience this speech would The hero insult who this bold step has dared,
despise;
And to meet the assault are now fully prepared.

Paris widely differed, in those stormy days,
From the happier features she this day displays.
Hundreds of forts, for protection disposed,
The city, then small, in their embrace enclosed.
Those suburbs, so grand, so extensive in meas-

ure,

The opening abyss seals the warrior's doom;
Torrents of sulphur burst forth from its womb.
From these volcanic fires no power can save,
And battalions entire sink down in the grave.
Such are the dangers that threaten Bourbon;
Through such he is eager to conquer his throne.

That peace has now opened for pastime and His warriors rush with him these tempests to pleasure,

meet,

Those superb avenues, where the populace With the thunders above, and with hell at their crowds,

Adorned with gilt palaces mocking the clouds, Were long lines of hamlets, by ramparts well screened,

But distinct from the city by a moat intervened. On the side from the east Bourbon makes his attack;

feet.

In the path of their king only true glory lies; They care for nought else, and push on for the prize.

Mornay, borne on the tide of a torrent so rapid,
With a slow step advances, but not less intrepid.

He is close to the walls, and death marks his His spirit a stranger to rage or to terrors,

track.

Fire and balls fly round from all parts,—
From besiegers beneath, and besieged on the
ramparts.

Those threatening ramparts, their works, and
their towers

Give way to the fury of these fiery showers.

One sees their battalions all broken and battered,

and scattered.

He heeds not the cannon, and is calm amidst horrors.

He contemplates war in a stoical light,—

A plague sent from heaven, but needful and right.

His philosophy follows where honor precedes, And condemns in his words, but supports by his deeds.

And their limbs from their bodies dismembered At length, they descend by that dangerous road Which stops at a glacis all slippery with blood. To meet this new danger fresh efforts are made; The trenches choke up with their fascines and dead.

Whate'er the balls reach like dust falls asunder,

And the battle they fight is a battle of thunder.

In days more remote and in science unskilled,
The soldiers more simply their enemies killed;
For conquest alone on the sword they relied;
Strong hands and stout hearts were the forces
applied.

They march and advance on the heaps of the slain;

With precipitate steps to the breach they attain. With his sword red with blood, and his shield to defend,

Henry leads in the van, and is first to ascend.

Their offspring their thoughts to invention have He mounts, and already in triumph has placed given, The standard of France with his own lilies graced.

And have called to their aid the lightning of heaven.

Huge bombs through the, air their fire-track made,

And which first to the Flemings their power displayed;

In their bosom, inflammable powders are pent,
And the prison that holds them together is
sent;

They burst, and destruction is scattered around.
A more barbarous art still invention has found:
Far underground, shut out from the sight,
These thunderbolts lie, with a slow match to
light.

O'er this treacherous ground, the soldier is fly-
ing

To encounter the foe, on his valor relying.

At this sight, from the rebels all valor seems flown,

And as subjects their king and their conqueror

own,

They yielded. Mayenne, at this critical time, Their courage renews; they return to their crime.

By their serried battalions the king is assailed,

That king before whom so lately they quailed. On the walls, cruel Discord near the combatants draws,

And bathes in the blood that is shed in her

cause.

Brought to close combat, each man in this strife
His victim secures, or forfeits his life.

No longer is heard the cannon's loud thunder,
Which threatened the firm earth's foundations
to sunder.

A silence prevails; it is sullen with rage,
And a deadlier struggle it comes to presage.

With eye fiercely fixed, and arm nerved for the
blow,

In this quarrel, which hero didst thou mean to prevail?

In whose favor was justice to weigh down the scale?

With Bourbon and Essex, Mayenne and d'Aumale,

Besieged and besieging, the courage is equal. Each man carves his way through the ranks of The troops for the right at last bear the sway; the foe. Bourbon passes the ramparts, and carries the day;

A rampart is taken; it next is regained,
And with blood from the victors and vanquish-

ed is stained.

Uncertain the issues of conquest remain ;

Near the flag of Bourbon floats the flag of Lorrain.

The besiegers resistance inflexible meet;

A hundred times victors, a hundred times beat. Like the waves of the ocean that surge on the strand,

By the Leaguers no longer resistance is made; The ramparts are yielded, and they are dismayed.

As a torrent descends from the Pyrenees' height,

Its course through the vales fills the nymphs with affright.

The dykes that are built for arresting its course They cover by turns and recede from the land. For a short time resist its impetuous force;

In no instance, before these assaults had been
made,

The king and his rival such greatness displayed.
Both heroes, possessing inflexible courage,

But powerless soon 'gainst the pressure to stand,

They yield, and destruction is borne through the land.

Uprooted and prostrate the noble oak lies Kept collected and calm in the midst of the car-That had long braved the storm with its head

nage.

They order, dispose, at the same moment act,
And are ready to make or repel the attack.

In the mean time, the English, a brave, chosen band

Whom the valiant Essex was proud to command,

With resolute step to the contest advance,

While over their heads waves the standard of
France.

in the skies;

The toppling rock rolls down on the plain ;
The herds rush along an asylum to gain.
Thus Bourbon with hosts from the ramparts
descended

Which his courage had carried though ably de-
fended;

And pursuing the rebels now taking to flight, He mowed down their ranks with the arm of his might.

The Sixteen look on with an utter dismay,

They come in the pride of their country's And flee from the sword of th' avenger away.

name,

And are willing to fight or to die for its fame. On those very spots where the Seine winds its way,

Their ancestors formerly held regal sway. Essex mounts by the breach, where d'Aumale he finds;

Mayenne seeks the city, yet saved by the fates,
And he and his cohorts then enter the gates.
The conquering army, now loose from com-
mand,

Through the suburbs are scattered with torches
in hand.

Both brilliant, both youthful, with generous Their valor in fury licentious troops merge, minds.

Thus the demi-gods looked on the ramparts of
Troy.

And with fire and pillage their way on they urge.

These Henry saw not; his violent flight.

sight.

Their friends all about them their prowess em- In pursuit of the foe shut them out from his
ploy ;
French, English, Lorrains for ascendency try;
Together they fight, and together they die.

Angel of destruction and soul of this strife,
In which fury demands the sad offering of life!

With valor inflamed and with conquest elate,
He passes the suburbs and stands at the gate.
"Comrades," he said, "with sword and with
fire

We will make this proud city a funeral pyre."

When he uttered these words, lo! a phantom of Like a cloud that the zephyr has scattered in light

From the depths of a cloud stood revealed to

his sight.

A body majestic, from grossness refined,

space.

In the mean time, the foe, from the top of the wall,

To Bourbon came down on the wings of the On the king and his troops destruction let fall. wind.

His features the sparks of divinity grace,
And beauty immortal is stamped on his face.
In his eyes there beamed forth both compassion
and horror.

"Stay thy hand," he exclaimed, "too unfor-
tunate victor!.

Abandon not thus to pillage and flames
An inheritance royal with ancestral names!
On thy country and temples such ravages
spread,

And thy subjects all murdered, reign king of

the dead!

French, citizens, strangers, this army compose, And with stubborn resistance, the assailants oppose.

A bright halo of glory round Henry is shed, Which scatters the tempest that beats on his head.

Then he saw through the slaughter so awful and wide,

How Louis had rescued his favorite child.

Having lightened the earth in his brilliant ca-
As the monarch of day, when his exit is near,