At day-dawn before
The gates, and together
Or break or climb o'er
The wall: on the ladder,
As mounts each firm foot[dh], 140
Our shout shall grow gladder,
And Death only be mute[235].
With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er
The walls of old Rome,
And who then shall count o'er[di]
The spoils of each dome?
Up! up with the Lily!
And down with the Keys!
In old Rome, the seven-hilly,
We'll revel at ease. 150
Her streets shall be gory,
Her Tiber all red,
And her temples so hoary
Shall clang with our tread.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon[236]!
The Bourbon for aye!
Of our song bear the burden!
And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes; 160
And next to the Spaniard
Beat Germany's drums;
And Italy's lances
Are couched at their mother;
But our leader from France is,
Who warred with his brother.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Sans country or home,
We'll follow the Bourbon,
To plunder old Rome. 170

_Caes._ An indifferent song
For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.

_Arn._ Yes, if they keep to their chorus. But here comes
The general with his chiefs and men of trust[dj].
A goodly rebel.

_Enter the Constable_ BOURBON _"cum suis," etc., etc._

_Phil._ How now, noble Prince,
You are not cheerful?

_Bourb._ Why should I be so?

_Phil._ Upon the eve of conquest, such as ours,
Most men would be so.

_Bourb._ If I were secure!

_Phil._ Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant,
They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery. 180

_Bourb._ That they will falter is my least of fears.
That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for
Their chief, and all