THERE were murmurs through the night, | |
| As of multitudes in prayer; | |
| There were tears of wild affright, | |
| And the wailing of despair: | |
| For Invasion’s gory hand | 5 |
| Scattered havoc o’er the land. | |
| |
| The startled morn arose | |
| To the trumpet’s fierce acclaim, | |
| To the ringing steel of foes, | |
| And the battle-bolts of flame; | 10 |
| Whilst the Gallic wolves of war | |
| Round were howling, and afar. | |
| |
| The matron armed her son, | |
| And pointed to the walls: | |
| “See, the carnage hath begun, | 15 |
| ’T is thy bleeding country calls! | |
| Better, son, the patriot’s tomb | |
| Than a slave’s ignoble doom.” | |
| |
| The gray-haired father took | |
| His time-worn brand and shield; | 20 |
| The pale monk closed his book, | |
| The peasant left his field; | |
| And daughters, e’en a scar had grieved, | |
| Now deeds of dauntless heart achieved. | |
| |
| Right onward dashed the foe, | 25 |
| O’er the red and reeking ground, | |
| Till the giant gates below | |
| Burst with an earthquake sound; | |
| And the rocking walls yawned deep, | |
| ’Neath the cannon’s shattering sweep. | 30 |
| |
| Yet ne’er with tyrant warred | |
| A firmer, bolder band: | |
| Again the gates were barred, | |
| Again the walls were manned; | |
| Again, as with prophetic sight, | 35 |
| The hallowed cross advanced the fight. | |
| |
| But heavier woes befell | |
| The still unvanquished brave, | |
| Mid sounds that seemed the knell | |
| Of freedom’s hopeless grave: | 40 |
| A hurricane, a blazing shower, | |
| Swept shivered rampart, rock, and tower! | |
| |
| In that appalling hour | |
| When Fate with Gaul combined | |
| To quell the freeman’s power, | 45 |
| To crush the valiant mind,— | |
| When e’en the last defence had died, | |
| Who braved the storm? who stemmed the tide? | |
| |
| No steel-girt knight of fame, | |
| No chief of high emprise; | 50 |
| A maiden’s soul enshrined the flame | |
| Which lit Hope’s darkening skies; | |
| A maiden’s valor dealt the blow, | |
| And stepped ’tween conquest and the foe; | |
| |
| Stood on that fatal brink, | 55 |
| Defying pain and death! | |
| And could Napoleon’s legions shrink | |
| Before a woman’s breath? | |
| Could Gaul’s proud eagle, from its height, | |
| Stoop to a mean, disastrous flight? | 60 |
| |
| Yes: that fair arm withstood | |
| The chivalry of France, | |
| And poured destruction, like a flood, | |
| On quailing helm and lance: | |
| Leonidas in maiden’s stole, | 65 |
| A woman’s breast with Curtius’ soul. | |
| |
| Heroic heart and true! | |
| Thy deeds shall find a voice | |
| To bid usurping tyrants rue, | |
| And Freedom’s sons rejoice: | 70 |
| The loved of Time, the prized of Fame, | |
| Spain’s noblest boast, and Gallia’s shame! | |
| |
