A worthy man of Paris town
Came to the bishop there:
His face, o'erclouded with dismay,
Betrayed a fixed despair.
"Father," said he, "a sinner vile
Am I, against my will:
Each hour I humbly pray for faith,
But am a doubter still.
"Sure were I not despised of God,
He would not leave me so
To struggle thus in constant strife
Against the deadly foe."
The bishop to his sorrowing son
Thus spoke a kind relief:
"The King of France has castles twain;
To each he sends a chief.
"There's Montelhery, far inland,
That stands in place secure;
While La Rochelle, upon the coast,
Doth sieges oft endure.
"Now for these castles--both preserved--
First in his prince's love
Shall Montelhery's chief be placed,
Or La Rochelle's above?"
"Oh! doubtless, sire," the sinner said,
"That king will love the most
The man whose task was hard to keep
His castle on the coast!"
"Son," said the bishop, "thou art right;
Apply this reasoning well:
My heart is Montelhery fort,
And thine is La Rochelle!"