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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.