Our Father and Master and Lord, [Ep. 13. 
        Who hast thy song for sword,
    For staff thy spirit, and our hearts for throne: 
        As in past years of wrong,
        Take now my subject song,
    To no crowned head made humble but thine own;
      That on thy day of worldly birth
Gives thanks for all thou hast given past thanks of all on earth. 520

* * * * *

NOTES

v. 33. Odes et Ballades, 1822-1824.

     57. Les Orientales, 1829.

     69. Les Feuilles d’Automne, 1831.

     71. Les Chants du Crepuscule, 1835.

     73. Les Voix Interieures, 1837.

     81. Les Rayons et les Ombres, 1840.

    101. Hernani, 1830.

    105. Marion de Lorme, 1831.

    109. Le Roi s’amuse, 1832.

    113. Lucrece Borgia, 1833.

    121. Marie Tudor, 1835.

127. Angelo, Tyran de Padoue, 1835.

129. La Esmeralda, 1836.

133. Ruy Blas, 1838.

137. Les Burgraves, 1842.

153. Cromwell, 1827:  Etude sur Mirabeau, 1834 (Litterature
et Philosophie melees, 1819-1834).

177. Han d’Islande, 1823. Bug-Jargal, 1826.

182. Le Dernier Jour d’un Condamne, 1829:  Claude Gueux, 1834.

193. Notre-Dame de Paris, 1831.

205. Le Rhin, 1845.

216. Napoleon le Petit, 1852. Chatiments, 1853. Histoire
d’un Crime, 1877.  In this place I must take occasion to
relieve my conscience from a sense of duty unfulfilled so
long as I for one have not uttered my own poor private
protest—­worthless and weightless though it may seem, if
cast as a grain into the scale of public opinion—­against
a projected insult at once to contemporary France and to
the present only less than to past generations of
Englishmen.

On the proposed desecration of Westminster Abbey
by the erection of a monument to
the son of Napoleon III

“Let us go hence.”  From the inmost shrine of grace
Where England holds the elect of all her dead
There comes a word like one of old time said
By gods of old cast out.  Here is no place
At once for these and one of poisonous race. 
Let each rise up from his dishallowed bed
And pass forth silent.  Each divine veiled head
Shall speak in silence with averted face. 
“Scorn everlasting and eternal shame
Eat out the rotting record of his name
Who had the glory of all these graves in trust
And turned it to a hissing.  His offence
Makes havoc of their desecrated dust
Whose place is here no more.  Let us go hence.”