The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875Various
Religion
The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875
Various
Catholic Church -- Periodicals
A tear steals from his eye.
Now he hath turned him to his knights;
His words are sad and low:
“God wot I am an old man now;
He layeth sorrow on my brow,
He willeth I should go.
My nephew hath his course to run,
And mine is near its close.
I straight will render up my lands,
My gold shall pass from out mine hands—
I’ll yield me to my foe!
But as God lives he prospereth not
King Stephen’s arms again;
His latest triumph he hath won.
Henceforth his is a setting sun;
His efforts shall be vain!
God prospereth not King Stephen now—
The Empress Maud hath fled;
Fitz‐Empress Henry snatcheth now
The golden circlet from the brow,
The glory from his head.
God prospereth not King Stephen’s arms—
Anjou is in the field,
And Winchester and Gloucester band
To wrest the sceptre from his hand,
And vanquished he must yield.
God prospereth not King Stephen’s cause—
Henry is named his heir;
Still may he sit upon the throne
Weakness forbids him call his own,
In sorrow and despair.
God prospereth not his family—
Eustace, his only son,
Pines from that moment, droops his head,
And, withering like a flower, is dead,
And his last prop is gone.
God prospereth not King Stephen’s health—
His heart is stricken sore;
Sleep shunneth now his eyes by night;
His days are stricken with a blight;
He smileth now no more.
And still ’tis said God prospereth not
The holder of those lands,
And Sarum’s heirs ne’er live to claim
The heritage of land and name—
It slippeth from their hands;
For one, ’tis said, hath fallen by chance;
Another falls in strife;
A father’s hand unwitting smote
Another scion through the throat;
Law claims another’s life.
God prospereth not that family—
Two hundred years have sped,
And still the bishop’s curse clings fast,
As fell and fatal to the last
As when those words were said.
Then the Third Edward rendered back
Unto the church its own,
And the broad lands to Robert gave
(Thou’lt see it figured on his grave);
And now the curse is gone!
The Poem Of Izdubar.
M. FRANÇOIS LENORMANT, in continuing the publication of his _Essay on the
Propagation of the Phœnician Alphabet in the Ancient World_, and in
editing a _Selection of Cuneiform Texts_, has just issued two volumes of
important and interesting studies on _Primitive Civilizations_.(34)
The steps of this learned writer in the almost unknown regions which he
explores so fearlessly, and usually with so much success, are not always
perfectly sure; but, with a good faith so natural to him that it does not
seem to cost him even an effort, he knows how to retrace his path and
correct whatever may require rectification.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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