Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet;
If our songs have been languid, they surely are few:
Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet;
The present--which seals our eternal Adieu.
1807. [Now first published.]
* * * * *
RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS
FUNERAL OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
The death of William, almost every reader knows, was occasioned by a hurt
in the belly from the pummel of his saddle, while reducing the town of
Mantes to ashes, at Rouen on Sep. 9, 1086, in the 63rd year of his age and
21st of his reign.
The king's decease was the signal for general consternation throughout the
metropolis of Normandy. The citizens, panic struck, ran to and fro as if
intoxicated, or as if the town were upon the point of being taken by
assault. Each asked counsel of his neighbour, and each anxiously turned
his thoughts to the concealing of his property. When the alarm had in some
measure subsided, the monks and clergy made a solemn procession to the
abbey of St. George, where they offered their prayers for the repose of
the soul of the departed duke: and Archbishop William commanded that the
body should be carried to Caen, to be interred in the church of St.
Stephen, which William had founded. But the lifeless king was now deserted
by all who had participated in his bounty.
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