66 $ VINCENNES. ING to me, Jamie, sing once more," the victor, "Sing Bernard's strange, mysterious hymn beside I've fought and conquered now, my friends; how slowly comes my breath; Remember you what I foretold when they played 'The Dance of Death?' Oh, tell me, Bedford, what boots now proud Agincourt's rich gains? The crown, the ring, the sceptre, pour they life into my veins ? Jerusalem Jerusalem! it was my father's cry, King Edward's, holy Louis'-how far from it am I? "Oh, Jamie, Scotland's captive king, leave me not now, kind heart; Tell me I'm dying, Jamie-how have I borne my part? Forgive me, 'Lion of the North,' for we are brothers still, And I'm going there, Jamie, dear, where none speak word of ill, There's neither Scot or English there, nor son of restless France; The swords are all palms there, Jamie; they draw no dirk nor lance. But we-what are we doing here, sin's fearful tide to stem ? Oh, 'Jesu Christe,' take me home to Thy Jerusalem. "The straight way, ah! the straight way to that better land, and good, It does not lie 'mid gleaming swords and pools of kindred blood. My subjects dear, and comrades true, 'tis a wondrous thing to stand On that strange patch of ground, 'twixt the known and unknown land To lie, as I am lying now, with the past all full in view, And only one small gleam of light toward the land I'm going to. I might have lived a holier life, kept nearer to the cross— Oh! 'Agnus Dei,' of Thy love save me from utter loss. "Bedford! my babe, my little son, whose face I have not seen, Oh, it seems hard that I must go and leave my child and queen; Look to it, John; teach England's heir what a Christian knight should know, In the straight way toward Jerusalem set his infant steps to go. Jamie, when you go back again, as in God's time you will, To the lands of bonnie Scotland, king of each vale and hill, D You'll not draw sword against my boy, when I am in the dust You cannot pledge for Scotland, but you'll keep our troth and trust. 66 Boy, are you there? young Malcolm Stuart?' and at the name up rose The prince of bonnie Scotland, Gleniskie's pale white rose; 'Take warning, boy; of all the ways, the straight road is the best; There is a true Jerusalem where victor knights find rest.' A flood of tears he could not check rolled down the pale Scot's face, And tearfully and solemnly he answered, "By God's grace, Be it through cloister or through camp, I have the tide to stem, I'll meet you, loved King Henry, in far Jerusalem.” "Poor Catherine !" and at that name the listeners' hearts beat high, And scorn untold curled many a lip, and flashed from many an eye; For well they knew the selfish being who shared their monarch's throne, And the love that noble king had given to a woman's heart of stone. Why came she not to soothe his pain with gentle word and touch? Why o'er his brow, now growing cold, poured not affection's gush ? He who rejoiced when o'er her head the English banner waved Oh, God! whose mercy murderers ask, are selfish women saved? ،، Only two hours more to live, the life for which I've striven; Has each forgiven me all my wrongs, as I hope to be for given? One more sweet kiss of peace, Jamie, ah, our love is blest; Malcolm, goodbye; the straight path, boy, to the land of peace and rest. God bless you, Bedford-now repeat the Penitential Psalms; I am not meet to stand with those who claim the victor's palms. I trust in Him who bowed for me His sacred thorn crowned head; Into Thy hands, O God!"-and King Henry was dead. A THREE-FOLD PRAYER. I. "Christian saw a man come up to the one that sat there to write, saying: 'Set down my name, Sir.""-PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. I LOOK, and a wonderful army Is passing before my gaze— Set down my name as a soldier ; How I shall war in the field. Always and ever Thy soldier, Whether on earth or in heaven; |