Forward march! we bid them go—
Such the joys we soldiers know.
Ever ready for the field,
Never fearing life to yield,
Firm we stand before the foe,
Such the joys we soldiers know.
As the deep tones die upon the ear, we all, after expressing the usual thanks, turn to Lavigne to follow up the good example thus set him. Descended from an old Huguenot family, his first thought is to the land of his fathers, and with much animation in his looks, he breaks out into the following strain: —
Lovely France—la belle France!
At thy name my bosom bounds,
To my eye sweet visions dance,