CHAPTER VI.

SONG ON THE BUTCHERY OF CHASSENEUIL.

Here they are, before Chasseneuil, the Catholic Crusaders, Before Chasseneuil, the fortified town! Behind their high walls' shelter, men, women and children Have sought refuge from burgs and from hamlets. The men in arms are on the ramparts; Women and children weep in the houses.

The women and children weep in the houses, The Crusaders have sighted the town. Behold Abbot Reynier of Citeaux. He steps forth; he speaks. He says: "Heretics of Chasseneuil, choose-- The Catholic faith or death!" The answer comes: "Monk, be gone! Romanist, avaunt! We prefer death to the Church of Rome! The devil take the Pope! Monk be gone! We prefer death to the Church of Rome!"

Abbot Reynier, in a passion, Back to the Crusaders he rides, and he cries: "Kill, burn, pillage, ravage! That not one of the Chasseneuil heretics Escape the sword or the flames! Their goods now belong to the Catholics! Kill, burn, pillage, ravage!"

The assailants are wild, no less so th' assailed. How the blood flows! Oh! How it flows! The besiegers are in numbers, uncountable: The besieged are but few. Woe to the vanquished! The ramparts being scaled The priests pour in, cross in hand: "Kill--kill the Chasseneuil heretics! Kill--kill the Chasseneuil heretics!"

The Crusaders have massacred, slaughtered and killed Old men and young, Aged grand-mothers, youthful grand-daughters, Virgins and infants! The blood runs in streams through the streets of Chasseneuil! The blood runs red and steaming, As waves in the butcher's place of slaughter! They have massacred at Chasseneuil Full seven thousand of our people, The Catholic Crusaders!

They have slaughtered seven thousand at Chasseneuil! At last, tired of carnage and outraging women, They pillage and pillage again! In pillaging houses they meet women and old men, Children and many of the wounded, Who sought refuge in places concealed. The gibbets are raised! The pyres are lighted! The rope and the flames end the work Which the sword set on foot. Torture and slaughter!

The rope and the flames end the work Which the sword set on foot! Ravaged from one end to the other, The city contains but corpses in heaps! "To Beziers!" Now cries the papal legate. "Fall to, Montfort, up and to work! His Holiness has issued the order! Kill, pillage, burn all heretics, As was done at Chasseneuil!" "To Beziers!" echoes back the Count of Montfort. And, behold, they march to Beziers, The Catholic Crusaders, The red cross on their breasts, The name of Jesus on their lips, The sword in one hand, The fagot in the other, To torture and to slaughter! What wrong have we done to these priests? What wrong have we done unto them!