For the bright Queen of St. Louis,

The star of court and hall!

But the deep strength of the gentle heart
Wakes to the tempest's call.

Her lord was in the Paynim's hold,

His soul with grief oppressed,

Yet calmly lay the desolate,

With her young babe on her breast.

There were voices in the city,

Voices of wrath and fear

"The walls grow weak, the strife is vain
We will not perish here!

Yield! yield and let the Crescent gleam
O'er tower and bastion high!
Our distant homes are beautiful-
We stay not here to die."

They bore those fearful tidings

To the sad queen where she lay— They told a tale of wavering hearts, Of treason and dismay;

The blood rushed through her pearly cheek,

The sparkle to her eye

"Now call me hither those recreant knights From the bands of Italy!"

Then through the vaulted chambers

Stern iron footsteps rang;

And heavily the sounding floor

Gave back the sabre's clang.

They stood around her-steel-clad men
Moulded for storm and fight;

But they quailed before the loftier soul
In that pale aspect bright.

Yes! as before the falcon shrinks

The bird of meaner wing,

So shrank they from the imperial glance
Of her-that fragile thing!

And her flute-like voice rose clear and high
Through the din of arms around—
Sweet, and yet stirring to the soul

As a silver clarion's sound.

"The honour of the Lily

Is in your hands to keep,

And the banner of the Cross, for Him
Who died on Calvary's steep;

And the city which for Christian prayer
Hath heard the holy bell—

And is it these your hearts would yield
To the godless infidel?

"Then bring me here a breast-plate

And a helm, before ye fly,

And I will gird my woman's form,
And on the ramparts die!

And the boy whom I have borne for woe,

But never for disgrace,

Shall go

within mine arms to death

Meet for his royal race.

"Look on him, as he slumbers

In the shadow of the lance!

Then go, and with the Cross forsake
The princely babe of France!

But tell

your homes ye

To perish undefiled ;

left one heart

A woman, and a queen, to guard

Her honour and her child! "

Before her words they thrilled, like leaves
When winds are in the wood;

And a deepening murmur told of men
Roused to a loftier mood.

And her babe awoke to flashing swords,
Unsheathed in many a hand,

As they gathered round the helpless one,
Again a noble band!

"We are thy warriors, lady!

True to the Cross and thee;

The spirit of thy kindling words
On every sword shall be.

Rest, with thy fair child on thy breast;
Rest-we will guard thee well.

St. Denis for the Lily-flower
And the Christian citadel !"

F. HEMANS.

LXIX

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.

Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war-array,
Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlocky.
Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,

The flock without shelter; Leave the corpse uninterred, The bride at the altar; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges : Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended,

Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded: Faster come, faster come,

Faster and faster,

Chief, vassal, page and groom,

Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come,
See how they gather !
Wide waves the eagle plume,

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set!

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Knell for the onset!

LXX

THE MUFFLED DRUM.

The muffled drum was heard
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull, deep, rolling sound,
Which told the hamlets round

Of a soldier's burial-rite.

SIR W. SCOTT.