Ivry Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEA FFGGHHIIEA IIJJKKFFEA LLLLBBIIAA LLMMLLNNEA FFIILLNNEA LLBBIIOOAA| NOW glory to the Lord of hosts from whom all glories are | A |
| And glory to our sovereign liege King Henry of Navarre | A |
| Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance | B |
| Through thy corn fields green and sunny vines O pleasant land of France | B |
| And thou Rochelle our own Rochelle proud city of the waters | C |
| Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters | C |
| As thou went constant in our ills be joyous in our joy | D |
| For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy | D |
| Hurrah hurrah a single field hath turn d the chance of war | E |
| Hurrah hurrah for Ivry and Henry of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| Oh how our hearts were beating when at the dawn of day | F |
| We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array | F |
| With all its priest led citizens and all its rebel peers | G |
| And Appenzel s stout infantry and Egmont s Flemish spears | G |
| There rode the brood of false Lorraine the curses of our land | H |
| And dark Mayenne was in the midst a truncheon in his hand | H |
| And as we look d on them we thought of Seine s empurpled flood | I |
| And good Coligni s hoary hair all dabbled with his blood | I |
| And we cried unto the living God who rules the fate of war | E |
| To fight for His own holy name and Henry of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| The king is come to marshal us in all his armor drest | I |
| And he has bound a snow white plume upon his gallant crest | I |
| He look d upon his people and a tear was in his eye | J |
| He look d upon the traitors and his glance was stern and high | J |
| Right graciously he smil d on us as roll d from wing to wing | K |
| Down all our line a deafening shout God save our lord the king | K |
| And if my standard bearer fall as fall full well he may | F |
| For never I saw promise yet of such a bloody fray | F |
| Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war | E |
| And be your oriflamme to day the helmet of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| Hurrah the foes are moving Hark to the mingled din | L |
| Of fife and steed and trump and drum and roaring culverin | L |
| The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andr s plain | L |
| With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne | L |
| Now by the lips of those ye love fair gentlemen of France | B |
| Charge for the golden lilies upon them with the lance | B |
| A thousand spurs are striking deep a thousand spears in rest | I |
| A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow white crest | I |
| And in they burst and on they rush d while like a guiding star | A |
| Amidst the thickest carnage blaz d the helmet of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| Now God be prais d the day is ours Mayenne hath turn d his rein | L |
| D Aumale hath cried for quarter the Flemish count is slain | L |
| Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale | M |
| The field is heap d with bleeding steeds and flags and cloven mail | M |
| And then we thought on vengeance and all along our van | L |
| Remember Saint Bartholomew was pass d from man to man | L |
| But out spake gentle Henry No French man is my foe | N |
| Down down with every foreigner but let your brethren go | N |
| Oh was there ever such a knight in friendship or in war | E |
| As our sovereign lord King Henry the soldier of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France to day | F |
| And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey | F |
| But we of the religion have borne us best in fight | I |
| And the good lord of Rosny hath ta en the cornet white | I |
| Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta en | L |
| The cornet white with crosses black the flag of false Lorraine | L |
| Up with it high unfurl it wide that all the host may know | N |
| How God hath humbled the proud house which wrought His Church such woe | N |
| Then on the ground while trumpets sound their loudest point of war | E |
| Fling the red shreds a footcloth meet for Henry of Navarre | A |
| - | |
| Ho maidens of Vienna ho matrons of Lucerne | L |
| Weep weep and rend your hair for those who never shall return | L |
| Ho Philip send for charity thy Mexican pistoles | B |
| That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen s souls | B |
| Ho gallant nobles of the League look that your arms be bright | I |
| Ho burghers of St Genevieve keep watch and ward to night | I |
| For our God hath crush d the tyrant our God hath rais d the slave | O |
| And mock d the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave | O |
| Then glory to His holy name from whom all glories are | A |
| And glory to our sovereign lord King Henry of Navarre | A |
Thomas Babbington Macaulay
(1)
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