For the bright Queen of St Louis,
The star of court and hall!—
But the deep strength of the gentle heart,
Wakes to the tempest's call!
Her Lord was in the Paynim's hold,
His soul with grief oppress'd,
Yet calmly lay the Desolate,
With her young babe on her breast!
There were voices in the city,
Voices of wrath and fear—
"The walls grow weak, the strife is vain,
We will not perish here!
Yield! yield! and let the crescent gleam
O'er tower and bastion high!
Our distant homes are beautiful—
We stay not here to die!"
They bore those fearful tidings
To the sad Queen where she lay—
They told a tale of wavering hearts,
Of treason and dismay:
The blood rush'd thro' her pearly cheek,
The sparkle to her eye—
"Now call me hither those recreant knights,
From the bands of Italy!"*[1]
Then through the vaulted chambers
Stern iron footsteps rang;
And heavily the sounding floor
Gave back the sabre's clang.
They stood around her—steel-clad men,
Moulded for storm and fight,
But they quail'd before the loftier soul
In that pale aspect bright.
Yes—as before the Falcon shrinks
The Bird of meaner wing,
So shrank they from th' imperial glance
Of Her—that fragile thing!
And her flute-like voice rose clear and high,
Through the din of arms around,
Sweet, and yet stirring to the soul,
As a silver clarion's sound.
"The honour of the Lily
Is in your hands to keep,
And the Banner of the Cross, for Him
Who died on Calvary's steep:
And the city which for Christian prayer
Hath heard the holy bell—
And is it these your hearts would yield
To the godless Infidel?
- ↑
* The proposal to capitulate is attributed by the French historian to the Knights of Pisa.
