FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145  
146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   >>  
f their bodies. Behind this revolting breastwork they defended themselves, until, one after another, they all fell beneath the sabres and the bullets of the Protestants. In this dreadful retreat more than two thousand were put to the sword, large numbers were drowned, and many were taken captive. In this day, so glorious to the Royalist cause, more than one half of the army of the Leaguers were either slain or taken prisoners. Though the Duke of Mayenne escaped, many of his best generals perished upon the field of battle or were captured. It is reported that Henry shouted to his victorious troops as they were cutting down the fugitives, "Spare the French; they are our brethren." This celebrated battle has often been the theme of the poet. But no one has done the subject better justice than Mr. Macaulay in the following spirited lines. They are intended to express the feelings of a Huguenot soldier. THE BATTLE OF IVRY. "The king has come to marshal us, all in his armor dressed. 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, amid the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.' "'Hurrah! the foes are coming! Hark to the mingled din Of fife and steed, and trump and drum, and roaring culverin! The fiery duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain, With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almagne. Now, by the lips of those we love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now--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 on they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amid 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 heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. A
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145  
146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   >>  



Top keywords:
thousand
 

Navarre

 

looked

 
Mayenne
 

battle

 

helmet

 

roaring

 

pricking

 

promise

 

culverin


bloody

 
coming
 

Hurrah

 
oriflamme
 
mingled
 

France

 

turned

 

Aumale

 

quarter

 

praised


guiding

 

thickest

 

blazed

 

carnage

 

Flemish

 
bleeding
 

heaped

 

steeds

 

cloven

 

Biscay


breaking

 

clouds

 
rushed
 

gentlemen

 

Charge

 

hireling

 

chivalry

 

Guelders

 

Almagne

 

golden


lilies
 
knights
 

pressing

 

spears

 

striking

 
traitors
 

escaped

 
generals
 
perished
 

Though