Silent were all in the royal hall; Not a breath was heard until A squire kneel'd lowly on the floor, 66 And he spake in humble tone, Henry of England breathes no more: Thine are the crown and throne." A sudden change o'er the prince's brow Oh, greatly marvell'd Sicily's king dear; Thou weepedst not for thy son. But now thine aged sire is dead, Like a worn-out pilgrim sleeping, Though he leaves a crown for thy royal head, Thou like a child art weeping." His noble face did Prince Edward raise, "Ah, king," he said, "when infants die, We mourn but for a day; For God can restore as many more, Lovely and loved as they : But when a noble father dies, Our tears pour forth like rain; The Squirrel-Hunt. HEN, as a nimble squirrel from the wood, Sits partly on a bough his brown nuts cracking, And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking, This drops his hat; that headlong falls for haste; With sticks, and stones, and many a sounding |