Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/259

The "Arc de Triomphe" glows!
    A martial host are nigh,
France pours in long succession forth
    Her pomp of chivalry.
No clarion marks their way,
    No victor trump is blown;
Why march they on so silently,
    Told by their tread alone?

Behold! in glittering show,
    A gorgeous car of state!
The white-plumed steeds, in cloth of gold,
    Bow down beneath its weight;
And the noble war-horse, led
    Caparisoned along,
Seems fiercely for his lord to ask,
    As his red eye scans the throng.

Who rideth on yon car?
    The incense flameth high,—
Comes there some demi-god of old?
    No answer!—No reply!
Who rideth on yon car?—
    No shout his minions raise,
But by a lofty chapel dome
    The muffled hero stays.

A king is standing there,
    And with uncovered head