ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHIBITION. 25

Providence, with the same earnest eyes, and the same sad and tranquil mien. And we, we shall die, and Islam will wither away; and the Englishman, straining far over to hold his loved India, will plant a firm foot on the banks of the Nile, and sit in the seats of the Faithful; and still that sleepless rock will lie watching and watching the works of the new busy race, with those same sad earnest eyes, and the same tranquil mien everlasting. You dare not mock at the Sphynx."--Eöthen.

AND thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story!)
In Thebes' streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium was in all its glory,
And time had not begun to overthrow
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous,
Of which the very ruins are tremendous.

Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy,
Thou hast a tongue-come let us hear its tune;
Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy!
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon,

Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures,
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features.

Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollect

To whom should we assign the Sphynx's fame?

Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect

Of either Pyramid that bears his name?

Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ?

Had Thebes a hundred gates as sung by Homer?

Perchance that very hand, now pinion'd flat,

Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh glass to glass;
Or dropp'd a half-penny in Homer's hat,

Or doff'd thine own to let Queen Dido pass,

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,'
A torch at the great temple's dedication.

I need not ask thee if that hand, when arm'd,
Has any Roman soldier maul'd and knuckled,
For thou wert dead and buried and embalm'd,"

Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :-
Antiquity appears to have begun

Long after thy primeval race was run.

Since first thy form was in this box extended,

We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ;
The Roman Empire has begun and ended,

New worlds have risen-we have lost old nations,
And countless kings have into dust been humbled,
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,
March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,

And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?

If the tomb's secrets may not be confess'd,
The nature of thy private life unfold :-

A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled :-
Have children climb'd those knees and kiss'd that face?
What was thy name and station, age and race ?3

Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence!

Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.

Why should this worthless tegument* endure,
If its undying guest be lost for ever?
O! let us keep the soul embalmed and pure
In living virtue, that when both must sever,
Although corruption may our frame consume,
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom.

1. Are we told of anything in the building of the temple to make this probable? 2. What is here referred to?

HORACE SMITH.

3. Any slight grammatical error in this line? 4. What tegument ?

5. What guest?

THE BATTLE OF THE LEAGUE.

XVIII. THE BATTLE OF THE LEAGUE.

27

"AT the age of sixteen, Henry of Navarre had been declared head of the party of the Huguenots; his uncle the Prince of Conde, and the Admiral Coligni, acting as his lieutenants. His first military enterprises were unsuccessful. Invited to Paris, at the peace of 1572, to marry the sister of Charles IX., he narrowly escaped from the massacre of St. Bartholomew, but remained three years a prisoner. On the death of Charles, he again took the field against the army of the League, which he defeated in the battle of Courtras, 1587, and still more signally in that of Arques, 1589. After the death of Henry III., he won the celebrated battle of Ivry; and being acknowledged sovereign of France by all but the party of the League, then in possession of Paris, he laid siege to the city, which must have capitulated, but for the succours of Philip II."-Tytler's Gen. History.

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 look'd upon his people, and a tear was in his eye:

He look'd upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.
Right graciously he smiled on us, as roll'd' 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 we 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 rush'd, 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 heap'd with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail.
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van,
"Remember St. Bartholomew !" was pass'd 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 St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night, For our God hath crush'd the tyrant, our God hath raised the

slave,

And mock'd 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.

1. What is the subject to rolled?

2. What were Guelders and Almayne?

XIX. THE ARMADA.

"ELIZABETH of England had warmly espoused the cause of the revolted Netherlands, and her admiral, Sir Francis Drake, had taken some of the Spanish settlements in America. To avenge these injuries, the Invincible Armada of 150 ships of war, 27,000 men, and 3,000 pieces of cannon, was equipped by Philip for the invasion of England. The English fleet of 108 ships, attacked them in the night, and burnt and destroyed a great part of the squadron. A storm, which drove them on the rocks and sands of Zealand, completed their discomfiture, and only 50 shattered vessels, with 6,000 men, returned to Spain, 1588."-Tytler's General History.

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 flagstaff 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 e'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.