Mary E. Vandyne

“ Who can compare with D'Assas among the brilliant host?
The flush of youth is on his cheek; the fire that lights his eye
Tells of the noble heart within, the spirit pure and high.
No braver knight holds charger's reign, or wields the glittering lance.
Than proud and lordly D'Assas, bold chevalier of France.
The sound of war strikes on the air from far beyond the Rhine,
Its clarions ring across the fields, rich with the purple vine.
France calls her best and bravest: "Up, men, and take the sword! ”

“ D'Assas rideth forth upon his well-tried steed.
Auvergne hath made a worthy choice for this adventurous deed.
But stop! what means this silent host? How stealthily they come!
No martial music cleaves the air, no sound of beaten drum.
Like spectre forms they seem to glide before his wondering eyes;
Well hath he done, the wary foe, to plan this wild surprise.
Back D'Assas turns; but ah! too late,—a lance is laid in rest:
The knight can feel its glittering point against his corselet prest.
"A Frenchman! Hist!" A heavy hand has seized his bridle-rein. ”

“ From thence on Kheinberg shall they move: that citadel so grim
Shall yield her towers to Auvergne, shall ope her gates to him.
His warriors stand about him, a bold and gallant band,
No general e'er had truer men to follow his command. ”