THE RIDERS: KATHERINE TYNAN

Rheims is down in fire and smoke,
The hour of God is at the stroke,

Round and round the ruined place,--
Jesus, Mary, give us grace!

There are two riders clad in mail
Silver as the moon is pale.

One is tall as a knight's spear,
The younger one is lowlier.

Small and slim and like a maid--
Steeds and riders cast no shade.

Who are then these cavaliers?
There was a sound as Heaven dropt tears.

Who are those who ride so light,
Soundless in the flaming light,

Where Rheims burns, that was given
By France to Mary, Queen of Heaven?

Oh, our Rheims, our Rheims is down,
Naught is left of her renown.