156 CŒUR DE LION. CŒUR DE LION. A warrior's arm of stalwart might, Which well could wield the spear or sword; And gallant at the festive board; A monarch's and a minstrel's fame These, Cœur de Lion! these were thine. Yet what was the result of all Thy skill and prowess in the fray? The gayest there among the gay? Rude honours and a ruder strain Were all, alas! they won for thee. A name to still a froward child *; These were thy valour's empty meed. • In Palestine Cœur de Lion left behind him an impression that long survived himself. His dreaded name was employed by the Syrian mothers to silence their froward children; and if a horse suddenly started from the way, his rider would exclaim: "Dost thou think King Richard is in that bush?"-Hack's English Stories. JOHN HOWARD. Then who would chivalry deplore? For England's lion-hearted king. 157 B. BARTON. JOHN HOWARD. A spirit of unwearied zeal, Patience which nothing could subdue, An open hand, and eye, and ear, For all in prisons doomed to pine; In cells by mercy's feet untrod, 'Twas thine the mourner's lot to scan; Thy polar star the love of God, Thy chart and compass love to man. To mitigate the law's stern wrath Thou trod'st with steadfast heart and eye, "An open, unfrequented path To fame and immortality!" SPRING, THE MORNING OF LIFE. 158 What was thy meed ? —a stranger's grave, Divided from thy native land B. BARTON. SPRING, THE MORNING OF LIFE. PART I. Sweet is the time of Spring, When nature's charms appear; And hail the opening year. But sweeter far the Spring Of wisdom and of grace, When children bless and praise their King, SPRING, THE MORNING OF LIFE. Sweet is the dawn of day, When light just streaks the sky; When shades and darkness pass away, And morning's beams are nigh. But sweeter far the dawn Of piety in youth; When doubt and darkness are withdrawn, Before the light of Truth. PART II. Sweet is the early dew, Which gilds the mountains' tops, And decks each plant and flower we view But sweeter far the scene, On Zion's holy hill; When there the dew of youth is seen, Its freshness to distil. Sweet is the op'ning flower 159 Since trifles make the sum of human things, Large bounties to bestow we wish in vain, To bless mankind with tides of flowing wealth, With power to grace them, or to crown with health, Our little lot denies; but Heaven decrees To all the gift of ministering to ease. The mild forbearance of anothers fault; The taunting word suppressed as soon as thought: |