Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/133

100 Fair angel in thy glass When vile things move or pass, Clouds in the skies amass; Terrible, alas! Thy stern commands are then, 'Form, form battalions, men, The flag display.' And men obey.

Angel of night! Sent kings to smite, The words in dark skies glance, 'Mené, Mené;' hiss Bolts that never miss! Thy name is France, Or Nemesis.

As halcyons in May O nations, in his ray Float and bask for aye, Nor know decay! One arm upraised to heaven Shuts the past forgiven; One holds a sword To quell hell's horde.

Angel of God! Thy wings stretch broad As heaven's expanse! To shield and free Humanity! Thy name is France Or Liberty.