THE HUGUENOT'S BATTLE HYMN.

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."

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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 Saint An­dre'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;