 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly
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XXXVII.
Marshal and duke, in flank, and front, and rear,
An inner cohort, guard the Sovereign,
And that fair, jewell'd form—his daughter dear,
The royal Angoulême; and where the train
Halt for the moment, bursts the shout again,
And swell the trumpets lifted to the sky.
They move,—and still arise the shout and strain,
And all along their march is ear and eye,
Till in the Abbey's porch the last deep concords die.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly
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