Aztecs, Montezuma, determined not to offer serious
opposition to the Spaniards, but Cortes was distrustful of the Aztecs,
and managed to secure possession of Montezuma, whom he kept as a
hostage. Called from the city of Mexico by an expedition which had been
sent against him from Cuba, Cortes returned as soon as possible, only to
find that the Aztecs had adopted a more aggressive policy. His men were
surrounded and attacked as soon as they entered the city, and the
attacks were kept up from day to day. Finally, when Montezuma died, it
became clear to Cortes that a longer stay in the city would be
impossible. This extract from Prescott's _The Conquest of Mexico_ tells
the story of the retreat.

[Illustration]

BATTLE OF IVRY

_By_ LORD MACAULAY

NOTE.--When Henry of Navarre became king of France as Henry IV, he
found that a part of his subjects, under the duke of Mayenne,
refused to submit to him. On March 14, 1590, he won over his
enemies a splendid victory at Ivry. In his speech to his soldiers
before the battle he called upon them to rally to his white plume,
if at any time they lost sight of the standard.

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance,
Through thy cornfields green and sunny vines, oh! pleasant land of
France.
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,
For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre.

Oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day,
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array;
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears,
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land,
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand;
And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for his own holy name and Henry of