I

'TIS dawn; but not such morning-tide

As we had guessed the eve before:

Armed ships within our harbor ride,

And armËd men are on the shore.

But these are not the ships, or men,

That sailed with Sieur La Tour away:

Ah, no, their vengeful chief we ken,—

Accurst D'Aulnay de CharnisÉ!

Now quick the drum is beat to arms;

We run the flag of France on high;

The battle fierce each bosom warms,

And adds a light to every eye.

And forth our lady chieftain came,

All fearless from her chaste alcove;

But first she snatched from duty's claim

One moment for a mother's love;—

One moment pressed her darling child,

And kissed its slumbers with a tear;

One moment more from warfare wild—

She breathed a brief impassioned prayer;

Then to the ramparts hied in haste,

To personate her absent lord,—

A baldrick o'er her swelling breast,

And by her side a pendant sword.

With glowing cheek, and eye that gleamed,

And voice forbidding all alarm,

Yet graceful, beautiful, she seemed

A warrior in an angel form....

II

Now dark D'Aulnay a parley seeks;

Demands surrender of the fort!

But, ha! soon back his herald takes

An answer fearless, prompt, and short:—

"Madame will hold this fort St John,

As she has held it once before,

Despite of every robber loon,

For France and for her lord, La Tour."...

Three days D'Aulnay's beleaguering force

Assailed our fort with might and main;

To every wile he had recourse,—

To fail again and yet again....

No craven cry our lady heard,

Though small our band and sorely pressed;

One soul our every action spurred,—

Her lion's heart in woman's breast!...

III

'Twas Easter morn.—A sudden cry!—

Our every heart a moment quailed:—

"The guard!—quick—ho!—the enemy

Our ditch and parapet have scaled!"...

Too true: a rampart's coin they'd won,

With skulking treachery for their guide;

De CharnisÉ himself led on,

With Ponce—the traitor!—by his side.

With one wild shout of "Vive La Tour!"

We dash upon their bristling van;

Where waves our lady's sword before,

Herself unscathed by fiend or man.

Our headlong charge the foe appalled;

They shrank; they staggered—turned for flight;

D'Aulnay a parley loudly called

And waved the craven signal white.

He vaunted his o'erwhelming force;

Our stout defence, he said, was well;—

Our longer strife would end in worse;

He offered terms most honorable.

Our lady viewed, with pitying eye,

Her band toil-worn, diminishËd;

With heaving breast and deep-drawn sigh,

She slowly, sadly bowed her head.

IV

Our keys surrendered, arms laid down,

We—penned and prisoned helplessly;—

Then dark and vengeful was the frown

Of stern D'Aulnay de CharnisÉ.

That demon in a human form,

Dark-souled, incarnate treachery,—

Now swore, with loud upbraiding storm,

The prisoned garrison should die....

No sound, no utterance, passed her lips,

The while that awful deed was done;

As if her soul were 'neath eclipse—

Her beauteous form transformed to stone.

Then, with one long, loud piercing shriek,

That form upon the earth she cast.

No more can D'Aulnay vengeance wreak:

The heroine's heart has burst at last!...