TORCHES were blazing clear, | |
| Hymns pealing deep and slow, | |
| Where a king lay stately on his bier | |
| In the church at Fontevraud. | |
| Banners of battle o’er him hung, | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| 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: | 20 |
| And solemn were the strains they pour’d | |
| 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, | 25 |
| 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 hush’d awhile, | |
| As, by the torch’s flame, | 30 |
| 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, | 35 |
| 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! | 40 |
| |
| 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,— | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| A weight of sorrow, even 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 weak— | 55 |
| 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! | 60 |
| 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 | 65 |
| 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 call, | |
| And that thou answerest not? | 70 |
| When was it thus, woe, woe for all | |
| The love my soul forgot! | |
| |
| “Thy silver hairs I see, | |
| So still, so sadly bright! | |
| And father, father! but for me, | 75 |
| They had not been so white! | |
| I bore thee down, high heart! at last, | |
| No longer could’st thou strive;— | |
| Oh! for one moment of the past, | |
| To kneel and say—‘forgive!’ | 80 |
| |
| “Thou wert the noblest king, | |
| On royal throne ere seen; | |
| And thou didst wear in knightly ring, | |
| Of all, the stateliest mein; | |
| And thou didst prove, where spears are proved, | 85 |
| In war, the bravest heart— | |
| 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!— | 90 |
| 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 | 95 |
| Look on me till I die!” | |
| |
