CŒUR DE LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER. TORCHES were blazing clear, On the settled face of death Though dimm'd at times by the censer's breath, As if each deeply furrow'd trace The marble floor was swept As the kneeling priests, round him that slept, And solemn were the strains they pour'd With the cross above, and the crown and sword There was heard a heavy clang, A gleam of arms up the sweeping aisle, He came with haughty look, But his proud heart through its breastplate shook, He stood there still with a drooping brow, For his father lay before him low, And silently he strove With the workings of his breast; And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain,— For his face was seen by his warrior train, He look'd upon the dead, A weight of sorrow, even like lead, He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek And the heavy hand of clay, Till bursting words-yet all too weak-Gave his soul's passion way. "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. "Speak to me! mighty grief Ere now the dust hath stirr'd! Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief, My king! I must be heard!Hush'd, hush'd-how is it that I ca And that thou answerest not? When was it thus, woe, woe for all "Thy silver hairs I see, I bore thee down, high heart! at last, To kneel and say-forgive!' "Thou wert the noblest king, And thou didst wear in knightly ring And thou didst prove, where spears are proved, "Thou that my boyhood's guide How will that sad still face of thine THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM THE breaking waves dashed high And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moor'd their bark Not as the conqueror comes. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear, They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea! And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free! The ocean-eagle soar'd From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roar'dThis was their welcome home! There were men with hoary hair There was woman's fearless eye, There was manhood's brow, serenely high, What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?-- |