The France that gave her birth,

Land of delight and mirth

Her lips were fond to bless,

Rolled this one shattered wave

She stands beside his knee,

And, looking wistfully

Upon his reverend head,

Sighs, "Uncle, are you come

From our beloved home?

"Tis better to be dead!"

O England! glad and free,

With thine own liberty

Endow thy trembling guest;
Stretch soft thy mantle where

He feels the wintry air,

And fondle him to rest.

But, lo! a wilder sob,

A swift and mighty throb;

And towards the rugged North,
With exiled steps of pain,

And fevered eye and brain,

Tis France herself goes forth.

'Tis France; for 'neath the sun

Freedom and she were one

Five little years ago.

Her glorious flag they fold

As a thing disused and old:

"We have other fashions now."

Her sons must seek their bread,

And lay the weary head

In countries cold and lone;

Their halls are desolate;

The friends that made them great,

Their works, and days, are gone.

Nay, never flee, but stand,

Your good sword in your hand,
And cry your watchword true.

Drive the pursuer back:
The foe upon your track

Is mortal, even as you.

His slimy, serpent ways;
His cold, voluptuous days;

His coffers, guilt-increased;

Your fathers' hearths grow cold,

Yourselves in exile old,

That he may reign and feast.

His infant let him fold

In cloth of silk and gold,

Feeding on pearly food:

That child of bastard race,

Let it, too, find a place

In quiet Holy rood.

Flame lights the sunken cheek ;

But the exile's hand is weak,

Weightless for good or ill:

Heaven give him sufferance!
But thou, great land of France,

But God, what is thy will?

PERUGIA.

REMEMBER ye Perugia, where Raphael dwelt in years Whose visions crowded on his brain, ere praise amazed

his ears;

Where, ripening fast, a Virgin in his master's style he

drew,

With Babe and Prayer-book in her hands, and heavy hood of blue?

Oh! saw you e'er the Switzers stand in helmed and

jerkined row,

When Christ's meek vicar up the aisle of holy church

would go?

Bull-necked and brutal-featured they, ferocious, bold

Their only faith the pound of flesh that's paid for,

right or wrong.