Ce N'Est Rien, Ce N'Est Rien; Ne Vous Affligez Pas Pour Moi, Mes Bonnes Amies. Montcalm, Calm Mount, Thou Didst Not Faint Nor Fail At That Fierce Volley From Thy Foemen Near, Nor At The Charge'S Deafening Prelude Quail, - The Highland Slogan And The Saxon Cheer. But Thou, Even Thou, Couldst Not Withstand The Shock That Broke And Bore Precipitately On Tried Regiments, La Sarre And Languedoc, B'Arn, Guienne And Royal Roussillon. Thou Couldst But Fight As Heroes E'Er Have Fought, With That High Self-Devotion Which Transcends Vain-Glorious Victory: "'Tis Naught, 'Tis Naught; Fret Not Yourselves On My Account, Good Friends," Yet 'Twas Thy Mortal Wound. Such Words Express True Chivalry And Christlike Nobleness.