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ROBERT OF NORMANDY.
Thought'st thou of these, false king! thought'st thou of these,
When fast the buoyant ship went o'er the seas,
In gallant trim and gay? Did not the cry
That rose from those dark waves unto the sky,
Find echo in thy heart? Thy best beloved,
Thy brave, thy beautiful, he, who had proved
Worthy to wear a crown—my crown—beneath
The waves of ocean sank; he sank, and thou,
As I, art desolate and hopeless now![1]
Thou didst lay down the name of friend and grasp
With a strong hand—the same that once did clasp
Mine own in fond affection—from my brow
Fair England's crown!
Fair England's crown! I am avenged! but, how,
How bitter the revenge!—alone, alone!
Within my spirit-depths I hear a tone
That tells me, 'midst the splendors of thy state.
And all the honors that around thee wait,
Thou, too, art lonely! I, in this lone tower,
Thou in the royalty of kingly power.
Think, think we of each other?
Think, think we of each other? Could T drink
Once more of thy cool waters—could I think,
Even in my dreams, that thy blue, blessed skies,
Were looking on me like a mother's eyes,

  1. Prince Henry, the only son of Henry, was drowned in the passage home from Calais while attempting to rescue his sister from the waves.