"With the crown of his sires on his head,
His nobles and knights by his side,
At the foot of his ancestors' palace
'Twere easy, methinks, to have died.
But no: when we burst through his barriers,
'Mid heaps of the dying and dead,
In vain through the chambers we sought him--
He had turn'd like a craven and fled.
* * * * *
"You all know the Place de la Concorde ?
'Tis hard by the Tuileries wall.
'Mid terraces, fountains, and statues,
There rises an obelisk tall.
There rises an obelisk tall,
All garnished and gilded the base is;
'Tis surely the gayest of all
Our beautiful city's gay places.
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