A multitude, whose billows made no sound,
Chain’d to a hush of wonder, though elate
With victory, listen’d at their temple’s gate.
And what was done within? Within, the light,
Through the rich gloom of pictured windows flowing,
Tinged with soft awfulness a stately sight—
The chivalry of France their proud heads bowing
In martial vassalage! While midst that ring,
And shadow’d by ancestral tombs, a king
Received his birth-right’s crown. For this, the hymn