CŒUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Cœur. de-Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave. TORCHES were blazing clear, 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 A strong and ruddy glare, Though dimm'd at times by the censer's breath, Yet it fell still brightest there: As if each deeply-furrow'd 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, There was heard a heavy clang, And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle, He came with haughty look, An eagle-glance and clear, But his proud heart through its breast-plate shook, When he stood beside the bier! He stood there still with a drooping brow, And clasp'd 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 And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain- For his face was seen by his warrior-train, And he reck'd not that they saw. He look'd upon the dead, A weight of sorrow, ev'n like lead, He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek, Till bursting words-yet all too weak- "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! "Speak to me! mighty grief Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief, When was it thus ?-woe, woe for all "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, "Thou wert the noblest king, And thou didst wear, in knightly ring, And thou didst prove, where spears are proved -Oh! ever the renown'd and loved Thou wert-and there thou art! "Thou that my boyhood's guide Didst take fond joy to be!The times I've sported at thy side, And climb'd thy parent-knee! |