Page:Tales and Historic Scenes.pdf/211

Rh 'Tis he! thy prince—long sought, long lost, The leader of the red-cross host! 'Tis he!—to none thy joy betray, Young Troubadour! away, away! Away to the island of the brave, The gem on the bosom of the wave,4 Arouse the sons of the noble soil, To win their lion from the toil; And free the wassail-cup shall flow, Bright in each hall the hearth shall glow; The festal board shall be richly crown'd, While knights and chieftains revel round, And a thousand harps with joy shall ring, When merry England hails her king.