Chapter VI

"The almond blossoms in the vale;
The aloe from the rock
Throws out its long and prickly leaves,
Nor dreads the tempest's shock:
A blessed land, I ween, is that,
Though luckless is its Bey.
There lies the sea--beyond lies France!
Her banners in the air
Float proudly and triumphantly--
A salvo! come, prepare!
And loud and long the mountains rang
With that glad artillery."