“Mrs. Hemans, in a short historical poem, tenderly touches on the sorrow of King Henry for the lost prince; and, as I have not alluded to that sorrow in a very charitable spirit, I will quote the stanzas:—
HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.
“The bark that held a prince went down,
The sweeping waves roll’d on;
And what was England’s glorious crown
To him that wept a son?
He lived,—for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow break its chain;
Why comes not death for those who mourn?—
He never smiled again!
There stood proud forms around his throne,
The stately and the brave;
But which could fill the place of one,
That one beneath the wave?
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 never smiled again!
He sat where festal bowls went round,
He heard the minstrel sing,
He saw the tourney’s victor crown’d,
Amidst the knightly ring:
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
At many a joyous board;
Graves, which true love had bathed with tears,
Were left to heaven’s bright rain,
Fresh hopes were born for other years—
He never smiled again!”
TOMMY TOBY’S STORY OF THE FROLICSOME DUKE.
Tom Toby’s turn came next, and at the announcement of his name there was a sudden lighting up of faces. Tom’s face, which was usually rather comical, assumed a more mirth-loving expression than ever.
“You said,” he began, “that we were to visit Ghent and Bruges. I believe these towns were in old Flanders, and that Flanders was in Burgundy. One of the most clever rulers of whom I ever read was Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, though he had some faults when he used to be young like me.
“The good Duke married Eleonora, sister to the King of Portugal. The wedding was celebrated in great pomp at Bruges, and the merry-makings lasted a week.