THE BENDED BOW. It is supposed that war was anciently proclaimed in Britain by sending messengers in different directions through the land, each bearing a bended bow; and that peace was in like manner announced by a bow unstrung, and therefore straight. the Cambrian Antiquities. THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, 66 Heard you not the battle-horn? Arm! ere Britain's turf grow red!" And the reaper arm'd, like a freeman's son; "Hunter! leave the mountain-chase! Let the wolf go free to-day, Let the deer ungall'd sweep by, Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh!" And the hunter arm'd ere the chase was done; See "Chieftain! quit the joyous feast! Leave the hearth, and leave the hall- And the chieftain arm'd, and the horn was blown; And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. "Prince! thy father's deeds are told, Give our bards a tale of thee!" And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's son; And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. "Mother! stay thou not thy boy! Britain calls the strong in heart!" And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on; And the bards made song for a battle won. 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, And what was England's glorious crown He lived-for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? There stood proud forms around his throne, But which could fill the place of one, Before him pass'd the young and fair, In pleasure's reckless train; But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair- He sat where festal bowls went round, He saw the tourney's victor crown'd, A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep He never smiled again. Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd, And strangers took the kinsman's place Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, COEUR DE LION AT THE BIER OF HIS The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey-church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Cœur 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, Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a king lay stately on his bier In the church of Fontevraud. Banners of battle o'er 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 A strong and ruddy glare, Though dimm'd at times by the censer's breath, Yet it fell still brightest there: As if each deeply furrow'd trace The marble floor was swept 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 And the holy chant was hush'd awhile A gleam of arms up the sweeping aisle, He came with haughty look, An eagle-glance and clear; But his proud heart through its breastplate 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, It was Cœur de Lion gazed! |