"Prince! thy father's deeds are told, And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's son, "Mother! stay thou not thy boy! Britain calls the strong in heart!" And the bended Bow and the voice pass'd on, HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.* It is recorded of Henry the First, that after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished in a shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was never seen to smile. THE bark that held a prince went down, He lived-for life may long be borne Why comes not death to those who mourn? -He never smiled again! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one, * Originally published in the Literary Gazette. Before him pass'd the young and fair, But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair- He sat where festal bowls went round; A voice of winds that would not sleep- Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace And strangers took the kinsman's place Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, Fresh hopes were born for other years- CŒUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER. The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Coeur-de-Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave. TORCHES were blazing clear, And light, as Noon's broad light, was flung 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: The marble floor was swept By many a long dark stole, As the kneeling priests round him that slept, And solemn were the strains they pour'd With the cross above, and the crown and sword, There was heard a heavy clang, And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang As, by the torch's flame, A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle, 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 raised ; For his father lay before him low, And silently he strove With the workings of his breast, And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain— For his face was seen by his warrior-train, He look'd upon the dead, A weight of sorrow, ev'n like lead, He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek, "Oh, father! is it vain, I would give England's crown, my sire? "Speak to me! mighty grief Ere now the dust hath stirr'd! "Thy silver hairs I see, I bore thee down, high heart! at last, "Thou wert the noblest king, Of all, the stateliest mien; And thou didst prove, where spears are proved In war, the bravest heart -Oh! ever the renown'd and loved Thou wert-and there thou art! "Thou that my boyhood's guide How will that sad still face of thine THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE "Here (at Brereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days,'' Camden's Britannia. ”་ YES! I have seen the ancient oak And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke For the axe might never touch that tree, I saw it fall, as falls a chief And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf And the startled deer to their coverts drew, But by that sign too well I know, A youthful head, with its shining hair, But on his brow the mark is set Oh! could my life redeem him yet! He bounded by me as I gazed Alone on the fatal sign, And it seem'd like sunshine when he raised His joyous glance to mine! With a stag's fleet step he bounded by, |