American watchman and Delaware advertiser., 1825-12-02
WILMINGTON, Del FRIDAY, DECEMBER q 1925
From Campbelts Nsao Monthly MagaSine.
CEUR DE LION,
At THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.

CG Oh DE LlOV,
AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.
he body Of Henry the Second lay in state in the Able
Church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Rchal
CGur de Lion. who, on beholding it, was struck wit
horror and remorse, and reproaced himself bitterly IL
that rebeous conduct Which had been the means
bringing his father to an untimely grave.
TORCHES were blazing clear
Hymns pealng deep and slow,
Where King lay stately on his bier,
In the Church of Fontevraud
Banners OF battle DER 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,
strong and ruddy glare,
Though dimmed at times by the censer's breath,
Yet it fell still brightest there:
As if each deeply furrowed trace
Of earthly years 10 show
Alas that sceptred mor,a's race
Had surely closed in wo
The marble floor was swept
BY many long dark stole,
AS the kneeling priests round him that slept,
Sang for the Pa. ted soul.
And solemn were the strains they poured
In the Stiffness of the night,
With the cross above, and the and sword,
And the silent King in sight
There was heard heavy clang,
AS of steel-gr. men the tread,
AnQ the tOUDS and the hollow pavement rang
With a sounding thrill OF dread.
And the holy chant was hushed awhile,
AS by the torch's flame
gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle.
With mail-clad leader came.
He came with naughty lnok,
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 dropping brow,
And casped hands DER it raised -
For his Father lay before him low,
1t was CGur 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 suppressed.
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 rocked not that they saw.
He looked upon the Dead,
And sorrow seemed to lie,
weight of sorrow, e'en as lead,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.
He stooped-and kissed the frozen cheek,
And the hand of lfeless clay,
Till bursting words--yet all too weak
Gave his souls passion way.
"Ob, Father! is it vain,
This late remorse and deep
Speak to me, Father, again -
weep--behold, weep
Alas! my guilty pride and ire
Were but this work undone,
i would give England's crown, my Sire,
To bear thee bless thy Son.
"speak to me mighty grief
Ere the dust hath stirred
Hear me but hear me Father, Chief,
My King | mast be heard -
flushed, husLt d !-how is it that call,
And that thou answerest not
When vas it ,hus Two, wo for all
The love my soul forgot
"Thy silver hairs see,
s. still, SO sadly bright!
And, Father, Father but for me,
They had not been white
Ibore thee down, high-heart! at last,
No longer could'st thou strive -
Oh for one moment of the past,
To kneel and say Forgivep
"Thou vert the noblest King,
On royal throne e'er seen;
And thou didst wear, in knghty ring,
OF all, the satliest mien;
And thou didst prove, where spears are proved,
In war the bravest heart
oh ever the renowned and loved
Thou wert-and there thou art!
" Thou that my boyhood's guide
Didst take fond Joy to bel
The times have sported at thy side,
And climbed thy parent knee
And there before The blessed shrine,
My Sire, see thee lie,-
How will that sad still face of thine
Look on me till dep