Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 13 1825.pdf/3



were blazing clear, Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a King lay stately on his bier, 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.

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, Sang mass for the parted soul. And solemn were the strains they pour'd    In 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, As of steel-girt men the tread, And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang With a sounding thrill of dread. And the holy chaunt 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, A dark glance high 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 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.