Page:Troubadour.pdf/311

Rh

And aged men are in the streets, Who mourn their length of days, And young knights stand with folded arms, And eyes they dare not raise.

There is not one whose blood was not As the waves of ocean free,— Their fathers died for thy fathers, They would have died for thee.

Weep not, 'tis mine to weep, That ever thou wert born, Alas, that all a mother's love Is lost in a queen's scorn!