For when the snow-storm beat our roof, Who grew as fair your likeness' proof 'Twas smiling on that babe one morn She shunned him, but he raved of Jane, 'Has witched my boy to wish for one Dost love thy husband? Know, my son Has sworn to seek his life.' Her anger sore dismayed us, For our mite was wearing scant, And, unless that dame would aid us, There was none to aid our want. So I told her, weeping bitterly, What all our woes had been; And, though she was a stern ladie, The tears stood in her een. And she housed us both, when, cheerfully, My child to her had sworn, That even if made a widow, she Would never wed Kinghorn." Here paused the nurse, and then began He heard me long, with ghastly eyes Spoke of the worm that never dies, At last, by what this scroll attests, For years of anguish to the breasts 'There lived,' he said, a fair young dame Beneath my mother's roof; I loved her, but against my flame I feigned repentance, friendship pure; But let her husband's miniature As means to search him; my deceit The treachery took: she waited wild; Whate'er I wished; she clasped her child, And swooned, and all but died. I felt her tears for years and years Fame told us of his glory, while And, while she blessed his name, her smile No fears could damp; I reached the camp, And if my broad-sword failed at last, This wound's my meed, my name's Kinghorn, My foe's the Ritter Bann.' The wafer to his lips was borne, And we shrived the dying man. He died not till you went to fight But I see my tale has changed you pale.". The abbot went for wine; And brought a little page who poured It out, and knelt and smiled; The stunned knight saw himself restored To childhood in his child; And stooped and caught him to his breast, And, with a shower of kisses, pressed "And where went Jane ?" "To a nunnery, Sir,— Look not again so pale, Kinghorn's old dame grew harsh to her." "And has she ta'en the veil ?" "Sit down, Sir," said the priest, "I bar And the boy played with the knight's broad star, "Think, ere you ask her dwelling-place," The abbot further said; "Time draws a veil o'er beauty's face More deep than cloister's shade. Grief may have made her what you can The priest undid two doors that hid And there a lovely woman stood, One moment may with bliss repay Such was the throb and mutual sob Of the knight embracing Jane. SONG. "MEN OF ENGLAND. MEN of England! who inherit Rights that cost your sires their blood! Men whose undegenerate spirit Has been proved on field and flood: — By the foes you've fought uncounted, By the glorious deeds ye 've done, Trophies captured-breaches mounted, Navies conquered — kingdoms won. Yet, remember, England gathers What are monuments of bravery, Pageants! Let the world revere us Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, Sidney's matchless shade is yours,Martyrs in heroic story, Worth a hundred Agincourts! |