The people each day flock'd around, As she sate at her meat and her wine; 'Twas always the use of our nation To witness the sovereign dine. "Young virgins with fair golden tresses, "She called for the blood of our King, And straight from his prison we drew him ; And to her with shouting we led him, And took him, and bound him, and slew him. The monarchs of Europe against me Have plotted a godless alliance; I'll fling them the head of King Louis,' "I see him as now, for a moment, Away from his gaolers he broke ; And stood at the foot of the scaffold, And linger'd, and fain would have spoke. 'Ho, drummer! quick! silence yon Capet,' Says Santerre, with a beat of your drum ;' Lustily then did I tap it, And the son of Saint Louis was dumb. PART II. "THE glorious days of September Saw many aristocrats fall; 'Twas then that our pikes drunk the blood, In the beautiful breast of Lamballe. Pardi, 'twas a beautiful lady! I seldom have look'd on her like ; And I drumm'd for a gallant procession, "Let's show the pale head to the Queen, "We had taken the head of King Capet, We called for the blood of his wife; Undaunted she came to the scaffold, And bared her fair neck to the knife. As she felt the foul fingers that touch'd her, She shrunk, but she deign'd not to speak, She look'd with a royal disdain, And died with a blush on her cheek! 10 "'Twas thus that our country was saved; "Away with such foul recollections! No more of the axe and the block; As they fell 'neath our guns at Saint Rock. We came to an army in rags, We march'd to the banks of the Po; I carried my drum and my sticks, "In triumph we enter'd Milan, We seized on the Mantuan keys; And the Pope he fell down on his knees."- And General Bonaparte's health. The drummer now bared his old breast, And show'd us a plenty of scars, Rude presents that Fortune had made him, In fifty victorious wars. "This came when I follow'd bold Kleber'Twas shot by a Mameluke gun; And this from an Austrian sabre, When the field of Marengo was won. "My forehead has many deep furrows, As I beat on my drum in the snow. ""Twas thus that we conquer'd and fought; But wherefore continue the story? There's never a baby in France But has heard of our chief and our glory,— But has heard of our chief and our fame, His sorrows and triumphs can tell, How bravely Napoleon conquer'd, How bravely and sadly he fell. "It makes my old heart to beat higher, His story of twenty brave years; He told how the Prussians in vain Had died in defence of their land; His audience laugh'd at the story, And vow'd that their captain was grand! They cursed the red English, and pray'd He told them how Russia was lost, They wept at the tale of disgrace; "Our country their hordes overrun, "He came, and among us he stood, Around him we press'd in a throng, And with you, my sons, am content. |