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And my hour has sounded; never more shall Richard

in career Of wild onset bear the bravest down like chaff before

his spear ! Never more upon his war-horse crush the ranks of

battle joined, Victory and flight before him, with a cloven path

behind! Raise me, that I sit erected as within my chair of

state, Place my battle-axe beside me, that I lean upon its

weight, Set the crown upon my forehead, so I look the monarch

still : Now the prisoner bring before me, that he hear my

sovereign will."

VIII.

There was silence in the presence, stillness by the

tempest nursed, Ere is heard the awakening thunder ; you might

hear the sighs that burst From the knights, their rough eyes tearful, watching

in that mortal hour; How before great Death the hero yielding owns the

infant's power! You might hear the breezes sighing through the tent

as morning came, . Like a welcome balm, and soothing all but fever's

cheek of flame! And the clank of prisoners' chains advancing, grated

harshly near, As De Guerdon entering slowly stood before the

monarch's bier. Though the keen blades of the Provost's axes glitter

ing on him turned, And the centering eyes of warriors in their sullen

wrath that burned,

All unmoved that sallow visage, and cold eye that like a

snake In its gathered coils is watching the doomed victim

from its brake; In that steadfast glance the monarch felt the fascination

shown Of the iron will and nature as unconquered as his own; And a sense of awe and shuddering in each mail-clad

knight awoke, As the low deep tones of Richard thrilling on that silence broke.

IX. " Seest thou thy work, Sir Archer ? what the answer

thou dost plead ? Thou, who crouched beneath the rampart, stoodst

apart to do this deed ? Have I injured thee, who laidest thus in wait to seek

my life Ere the assault of arms was rendered, or begun the

morrow's strife ? What fiend tempted thee to murder ? Feel'st thou not

thy conscience' stings ? Thou who with thy hand accursèd shedd'st the sacred

blood of kings !" “ Tyrant! in the deed I glory that hath dealt the

death I see; Thưu didst slay my sire and brethren-I have 'venged

their deaths on thee; Wreak thy tortures, for I mock them—thou shalt

rack these limbs in vain : I shall die content and happy, for I know thou first

art slain! That thou never from that pallet shall arise to plague

the world ! ” Scarce he uttered—from each warrior's hand restraint

was thread-like hurled : Baldwin's giant stride is forward, and his iron mace is

thrown

High in air red Mortmar's dagger wildly from its

sheath hath flown, And the double-handed faulchion gleams in Lacy's

hand of death : For a moment paused each champion, and withheld his

'bated breath, And across his shoulder gazing on the King—his step

withdrew Back recoiling from the presence of the power that

they knew! Like a statue sate the monarch, with raised arm, and

eye whose glare Between life and death was watchful of the deed im

pending there; Pointing with the regal gesture that contending kings

obeyed, That be lowered each brandished weapon, and each forward foot be stayed.

x. "Hold !-do ye forget your homage ?--that the monarch

still commands ? Back, on your allegiance-justice deals not with blood

reeking hands : Well I know your faith and fealty: Archer brave,

thou know'st not fear, Thou hast spoken out, though rashly—the award of

Richard hear : Strike his chains from off him ! let him from our

presence go forth free! More—a hundred marks in gold be weighed to him

with liberty; Hence! nor parley : thou art present but to hear our

last decree: Thou and all shalt own that Richard in his death was

just to thee!

XI.

“ Ha! I faint there comes a darkness-Marchandès !

- give word the fight

Wait till daybreak; when we conquer, be it in God's

open light, Hark! the roar of combat deepens, and the war-cries

gather near, Saladin is in the battle, and I lie bedridden here ! Helm and shield and hauberk bring me, that I meet

him in the fight : Onward ! with the Red Cross blazing--they are broken

and in flight! Peace again, for I am weary, I would sleep!”—his arm

upraised Nerveless sunk upon the pillow, and his fixing eye-balls

glazed ; And the heavy crown unseated, glided from his droop

ing head, And his war-axe fell unheeded, then they knew the king was dead!

(Copyright_Contributed.)

PRINCE ARTHUR AND HUBERT.

SHAKSPEARE. Hubert. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou,

.stand Within the arras; when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, Fast to the chair. Be heedful. Hence, and watch. First Attendant. I hope your warrant will bear out

the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you; look to't.

[Exeunt ATTENDANTS. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

Enter Arthur.

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.
Hub.

Good morrow, little prince,

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince) as may be. You are sad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth.

Mercy on me!
Methinks, nobody should be sad but I.
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me;
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
No, indeed, is't not. And I would to heaven
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate, He will awake my mercy, which lies dead; Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [A side.

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day; In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a Paper.

How now, foolish rheum! [A side. Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect.
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?

Hub. Young boy, I must.
Arth.

And will you ?
Hub.

And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did

but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows (The best I had, a princess wrought it me),

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