The General Moreau, that pure republican,
Who won at Hohenlinden so much glory,
And by Bonaparte hated, crossed the sea to be free.
And brought to the Delaware his story.
World-renowned as he was, unto Washington he strayed.
Where Pichegru, his friend, had contended,
And to Georgetown he rode, in search of a church,
To confess what of good he offended.

The Jesuits' nest beckoned up to the height
Where pious John Carroll had laid it,
And the General knelt at the cell but to tell
His offence; yet or ever he said it,
A voice in the speech of his Bretagny home,
From within, where the monk was to listen,
Exclaimed like a soldier: "Ah me! _mon ami_,
Take my place and a sinful one christen!

"For mine was the band that brought exile to you;
Cadoudal, the Chouan, my master,
Broke my sword and my heart, and I lost when I crost,
Both honor and love to be pastor.
A knight of the king and my lady at court,
At the call of Vendée the despised,
Into Paris I stole with a few, one or two,
As assassins, to murder disguised.

"On the third of Nivose, in the narrowest street,
And never a traitor one to breathe it,
We prepared to blow up Bonaparte with a cart,