Triumphant trumpets, through the startled night
Carried our menaces, upon the wind,
To Paris, safe among its flooded fields
Of reeds, and purple irises, and gold
Marsh-mallows, splendid in the light of noon.
“Three years our storm of vengeance shook the land
Ere Paris fell, and Sigebert in pomp
Rode through the gateways, proudly triumphing,
And bade me with our children follow him.
Hilperik fled to Tournai; and his host