"L. DE SAINT-LEU." "_Rome, 30th Sept_. 1821."
I read this incident when a mere girl in a very stupid old novel founded upon it, which I never could succeed in meeting with again. The preface stated that in some church in England there yet remained the monument of the knight with his noble one-armed wife beside him. I should be glad if any of your readers could tell me where this monument is to be seen, and the real names (which I have forgotten) of the knight and lady.
'Twas in the grand heroic days, When Coeur de Lion reigned and fought; An English knight ta'en in those frays To Sultan Saladin was brought.
The sultan sat upon his throne, His courtiers stood around; And emir, prince, and padisha Bent lowly to the ground.
They served him upon bended knee-- "To hear is to obey;"-- For the fierce and cruel Moslem race An iron hand must sway.
The monarch gazed on each stem face; "Ye Moslem chiefs are brave; But I know a braver man than ye, Bring forth the Christian slave!"
The slave was brought, and at a sign The scimitar waved high, But the English captive gazed unmoved, With calm unshrinking eye.
Then spoke the sultan: "Hugh de Vere, I've need of men like thee, And thou shalt be the first man here, In this land, after me.
"Thou shalt have gold, and gems, and land, Palaces shall be thine. And thou shalt wed a queenly bride, And be a son of mine.
"Only forsake thy fathers' faith, Mah'med and God adore, And forget thy love and fatherland. Which thou shalt see no more."
Then Hugh de Vere obeisance made;-- "Since I must make reply, I will not change my love or faith, Far liever would I die. { 28}
"I have a God who died for me. His soldier I am sworn. Shall I, whose shoulder bears the cross, Upon the cross bring scorn?
"I have a love, a gentle girl. Whom I love as my wife; I cannot bear a Moslem name. Nor wed a Moslem wife."
"Bethink thee now," the sultan said; "How knowest thou that the maid Is not now wed, since thy return Hath been so long delayed?
"Fickle and false is woman's heart, It changes like the sky; The showers that fall so fast to-night To-morrow' sun will dry.
"Nor--trust me--e'er was maiden yet Constant as is the dove, Who dies of grief for her lost mate, And knows no second love."