Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V. Unknown

      IVRY

          The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour drest,

          And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.

          He look'd upon his people, and a tear was in his eye:

          He look'd upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and

               high,

          Right graciously he smiled on us, as roll'd from wing to

               wing,

          Down all our line a deafening shout, "God save our Lord the

               King!"

          "And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may,

          For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray,

          Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks

               of war,

          And be your Oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre."

          Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din

          Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring

               culverin!

          The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. André's plain,

          With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.

          Now by the lips of those we love, fair gentlemen of France,

          Charge for the Golden Lilies,—upon them with the lance!

          A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in

                rest,

          A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white

                crest;

          And in they burst, and on they rush'd, while, like a

                guiding star,

          Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.

          Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned

                his rein.

          D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish Count is

                slain.

          Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay

                gale.

          The field is heap'd with bleeding steeds, and flags, and

                cloven mail.

          And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van,

          "Remember St. Bartholomew!" was pass'd from man to man:

          But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my foe;

          Down, down, with every foreigner! but let your brethren

                go."

          Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,

          As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre!

          Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne;

          Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall

                return.

          Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,

          That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's

                souls.

          Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be

                bright:

          Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-

                night,

          For our God hath crush'd the tyrant, our God hath raised

               the slave,

          And mock'd the counsel of the wise, and the valour of the

                brave.

          Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are;

          And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre!

MACAULAY.

      [Notes: D'Aumale, The Duke of; another leader of the League.

      The Flemish Court. Count Egmont, the son of the Count Egmont, whose death on the scaffold in 1568, in consequence of the resistance he offered to the tyranny of Philip II. of Spain, has made the name famous. The son, on the other hand, was the attached servant of Philip II.; and was unnatural enough to say, when reminded of his father, "Talk not of him, he deserved his death."

      Remember St. Bartholomew, i.e., the massacre of the Protestants on St. Bartholomew's day, 1572.

      Maidens of Vienna: matrons of Lucerne. In reference to the Austrian and Swiss Allies of the League.

      Thy Mexican pistoles. Alluding to the riches gained by the Spanish monarchy from her American colonies.

      Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve = citizens of Paris, of which St. Genevieve was held to be the patron saint.]

* * * * *

      NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

      And now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I found I most wanted, as particularly a chair or a table; for without these I was not able to enjoy the few comforts I had in the world; I could not write or eat, or do several things with so much pleasure without a table.

      So I went to work; and here I must needs observe that, as reason is the substance and original of the mathematics, so by stating and squaring everything by reason, and by making the most rational judgment of things, every man may be in time master of every mechanic art. I had never handled a tool in my life, and yet in time, by labour, application, and contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but I could have made it, especially if I had had tools; however, I made abundance of things, even without tools, and some with no more tools than an adze and a hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way before, and that with infinite labour; for example, if I wanted a board, I had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an edge before me, and hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I had brought it to be as thin as a plank, and then dubb it smooth with my adze. It is true, by this method, I could make but one board out of a whole tree, but this I had no remedy for but patience, any more than I had for the prodigious deal of time and labour which it took me up to make a plank or board; but my time or labour was little worth, and so it was as well employed one way as another.

      However, I made me a table and a chair, as I observed above, in the first place, and this I did out of the short pieces of boards that I brought on my raft from the ship: but when I had wrought out some boards, as above, I made large shelves of the breadth of a foot and a half one over another, all along one side of my cave, to lay all my tools, nails, and iron-work, and in a word, to separate everything at large in their places, that I might come easily at them; I knocked pieces into the wall of the rock to hang my guns and all things that would hang up. So that had my cave been to be seen, it looked like a general magazine of all necessary things, and I had everything so ready at my hand, that it was a great pleasure to me to see all my goods in such order, and especially to find my stock of all necessaries so great.

DEFOE'S Robinson Crusoe.

      [Notes: Reason is the substance