HE FUNERAL OF HENRY OF ANJOU

THROUGH the wide aisle of Fontevraud,
Peals music grave and calm :
The Requiem's solemn notes and slow,
The chant of funeral Psalm.

Great Henry, o'er thine open tomb
Strange recollections throng:
The hasty word of Becket's doom,
The trampled country's wrong.

And yet, while in this mortal life,
Thy sins their scourges brought;
Unloving and unloved, thy wife
Revenge and misery wrought.

The eaglets tore their father's breast:

Two unforgiven died;

And lo! the last has left the nest,

To take the foeman's side.

What reck'st thou that thy mother's' throne
Be from th' usurper gained?

Wild Leinster's kingdom is thine own,

And Scotland's Lion chained.

One prayer of faith, one deed of love,
One penitential tear,

Are, in the awful Books above,

Worth all thy lordships here!

But hark! a swift and mailèd tread
Is clanking up the nave,

Till in the presence of the dead

'Tis royal Richard-name of fear-
Who late his wrath defied;
But there is one more mighty here,
Who tames the monarch's pride.

Before his father's bier he stands,
Heaves forth the deep-drawn sigh:
Hiding his face between his hands-
""Twas I that killed him, I!"

COEUR DE LION
AT HIS FATHER'S BIER, 1189

BY FELICIA HEMANS

TORCHES were blazing clear,

Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a king lay stately on his bier,

In the church of Fontevraud.
Banners of battle o'er him hung,
And warriors slept beneath,

And light, as Noon's broad light, was flung
On the settled face of death.

On the settled face of death
A strong and ruddy glare,

Though dimmed at times by the censer's breath,
Yet it fell still brightest there:
As if each deeply furrowed trace
Of earthly years to show,-
Alas! that sceptred mortal's race
Had surely closed in woe!

The marble floor was swept
By many a long dark stole,

As the kneeling priests round him that slept

Sang mass for the 'parted soul;

COEUR DE LION AT HIS FATHER'S BIER 55

And solemn were the strains they poured
Through the stillness of the night,

With the cross above, and the crown and sword,
And the silent king in sight.

There was heard a heavy clang,

As of steel-girt men the tread,

And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang

With a sounding thrill of dread;
And the holy chant was hushed awhile,

As by the torch's flame,

A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle,
With a mail-clad leader came.

He came with haughty look,
An eagle glance and clear,

But his proud heart through its breastplate shook
When he stood beside the bier!

He stood there still with a drooping brow,

And clasped hands o'er it raised ;

For his father lay before him low,
It was Cœur de Lion gazed!

And silently he strove

With the workings of his breast,But there's more in late repentant love

Than steel may keep suppressed!

And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain-
Men held their breath in awe.

For his face was seen by his warrior-train,
And he recked not that they saw.

He looked upon the dead,
And sorrow seemed to lie,
A weight of sorrow, ev'n like lead,

Pale on the fast-shut eye.

He stopped-and kissed the frozen cheek,
And the heavy hand of clay,

Till bursting words-yet all too weak

Gave his soul's passion way.

66

'Oh, father! is it vain,

This late remorse and deep?
Speak to me, father! once again,
I weep-behold, I weep!
Alas! my guilty pride and ire !
Were but this work undone,

I would give England's crown, my sire,
To hear thee bless thy son.

66

Speak to me ! mighty grief

Ere now the dust hath stirred!

Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief,
My king! I must be heard!-
Hushed, hushed-how is it that I call,
And that thou answerest not?
When was it thus ?-woe, woe for all
The love my soul forgot!

66

Thy silver hairs I see,

So still, so sadly bright!

And, father, father, but for me,
They had not been so white!
I bore thee down, high heart! at last,
No longer couldst thou strive :-
Oh! for one moment of the past,
To kneel and say-' forgive!'

66

"Thou wert the noblest king On royal throne e'er seen;

:

And thou didst wear, in knightly ring,

Of all, the stateliest mien ;

And thou didst prove, where spears are proved In war, the bravest heart

Oh! ever the renowned and loved

Thou wert-and there thou art!

66

Thou that my boyhood's guide Didst take fond joy to be !The times I've sported at thy side, And climbed thy parent knee !

And there before the blessed shrine,
My sire! I see thee lie,-

How will that sad still face of thine
Look on me till I die ! "

KING RICHARD I, 1189-1199

LAMENT OF RICHARD

DURING HIS

IMPRISONMENT

BY W. E. AYTOUN

TRANSLATED FROM THE PROVENÇAL

If one in prison may not tell his wrong
Without derision or the chance of blame,
For his own comfort let him speak in song.
Friends have I store, and yet they leave me long !
If ransom comes not, let them look for shame.
Two years and still not free!

For well they know, my barons and my men,
Of England, Normandy, Poitou, Guienne,

That not the poorest should in chains be set
If all my wealth could buy him back again.
I will not call them false or treacherous-yet
Two years and still not free!

The captive hath nor friends nor kindred left,
For gold is dearer than the dearest tie.

Alas! I feel myself of all bereft ;

And if within this cell I chance to die,
Shame be to them who let their monarch lie
So long, nor set him free.

"Tis little wonder if I grieve and pine,
When he, my Lord, invades these lands of mine;
But if he thought upon the sacrament