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Graves, which true love had bathed with tears,
Were left to Heaven's bright rain, Fresh hopes were born for other years
-He never smiled again!
COEUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS
The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey.church of Fon• tevraud, where it was visited by Richard Caur-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,
Hymns pealing deep and slow,
In the church of Fontevraud.
And warriors slept beneath,
On the settled face of death.
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,
Sang mass for the parted soul ;
Through the stillness of the night,
And the silent king in sight.
There was heard a heavy clang
As of steel-girt men the tread,
With a sounding thrill of dread;
And the holy chant was hush'd awhile,
As by the torch's flame,
With a mail-clad leader came.
He came with haughty look,
An eagle-glance and clear,
When he stood beside the bier !
And clasp'd hands o'er it raised ;-
It was Caur-de-Lion gazed !
And silently he strove
With the workings of his breast,
Than steel may keep suppress'd !
Men held their breath in awe,
And he reck'd not that they saw.
He look'd upon the dead
And sorrow seem'd to lie,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.
And the heavy hand of clay,
Gave his soul's passion way.
6 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 !