“In this sacred spot--believed at that time to be the most sacred spot in England--the tomb stood in which ‘alone in his glory,’ the Prince was to be deposited, to be seen and admired by all the countless pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on their way to the shrine of the saint. “Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up his whole life. Its bright colours have long since faded, but enough still remains to show us what it was as it stood after the sacred remains of him had been placed within it. There he lies; no other memorial of him exists in the world so authentic. There he lies, as he had directed, in full armour, his head resting on his helmet, his feet with the likeness of ‘the spurs he won’ at Cressy, his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had offered up on his deathbed. There you can see his fine face with the Plantagenet features, the flat cheeks and the well-chiselled nose, to be traced perhaps in the effigy of his father in Westminster Abbey, and his grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral. On his armour you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as to make it look like an image of pure gold. High above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the wooden shield, the velvet coat also, embroidered with the arms of France and England, now tattered and colourless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword, wielded perhaps at his three great battles, and which Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away. On the canopy, over the tomb, there is the faded representation--painted after the strange fashion of those times--of the Persons of the Holy Trinity, according to the peculiar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillars you can see the hooks to which was fastened the black tapestry, with its crimson border and curious embroidery, which he directed in his will should be hung round his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Round about the tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers, which, according to the old, but doubtful tradition, we are told he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who perished in the thick of the fight; and interwoven with them the famous motto, with which he used to sign his name, ‘Houmout,’ ‘Ich diene.’ If, as seems most likely, they are German words, they exactly express what we have seen so often in his life, the union of _Hoch muth_ that is _high spirit_, with _Ich dien_, _I serve_. They bring before us the very scene itself after the battle of Poitiers, where, after having vanquished the whole French nation, he stood behind the captive king, and served him like an attendant.