A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS.

Оn! weep for Moncontour.
Oh weep for the hour

When the children of darkness

And evil had power;

When the horsemen of Valois

Triumphantly trod

On the bosoms that bled

For their rights and their God.

Oh! weep for Moncontour.

Oh weep for the slain

Who for faith and for freedoms

Lay slaughtered in vain.
Oh! weep for the living,
Who linger to bear
The renegade's shame,
Or the exile's despair

One look, one last look,

To the cots and the towers,

To the rows of our vines,

And the beds of our flowers, To the church where the bones

Of our fathers decayed, Where we fondly had deemed

That our own should be laid.

Alas! we must leave thee,

Dear desolate home,

To the spearmen of Uri,

The shavelings of Rome, To the serpent of Florence,

The vulture of Spain,