And the holy chant was hush'd 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 breast-plate shook, When he stood beside the bier!

He stood there still with a drooping brow,

And clasp'd hands o'er it rais'd;

For his father lay before him low,

It was Coeur-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 suppress'd!

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 reck'd not that they saw.

He look'd upon the dead,

And sorrow seem'd to lie,

A weight of sorrow, ev'n like lead,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.

He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek,
And the heavy hand of clay,

Till bursting words-yet all too weakGave 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.

Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief,

My king! I must be heard!

-Hush'd, hush'd-how is it that I call,

And that thou answerest not?

When was it thus?-woe, woe for all

The love my soul forgot!

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!'

"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 prov'd · In war, the bravest heart

-Oh! ever the renown'd and lov'd

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!

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!"

THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN

TREE.

"Here (at Brereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days."

Camden's Britannia.

YES! I have seen the ancient oak

On the dark deep water cast,

And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;

For the axe might never touch that tree,

And the air was still as a summer-sea.