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THE TROUBADOUR,
AND
RICHARD CŒUR DE LION.
The Troubadour o'er many a plain
Hath roam'd unwearied, but in vain.
O'er many a rugged mountain-scene,
And forest-wild, his track hath been;
Beneath Calabria's glowing sky
He hath sung the songs of chivalry,
His voice hath swell'd on the Alpine breeze,
And rung through the snowy Pyrenees;
From Ebro's banks to Danube's wave,
He hath sought his prince, the loved, the brave,
And yet, if still on earth thou art,
O monarch of the lion-heart!
