LE SANG E BOURGOGNE.

IN toils the old gray fox was caught.

Last of his race, the baron fought

Alone, yet all unflinchingly;

At bay before a hundred foes,

Within that arm how strong it flows, -

The good old blood of Burgundy!

He falls with many a streaming wound;

(Small mercy may for him be found,

The haughty knight of St. Marie!)

Then, as the pack around him close,

He cries, "Behold, how strong it flows, -

The good old blood of Burgundy!"

C. A. M.