On the Death of King Richard I. of England

Alas! the greatest ill that I have known,
The bitterest woe that time can ever bring,
Woe that I needs must endlessly bemoan,
Must e'en by me be sung, by me proclaimed;
For Valour's sire and chief, of deeds far-famed —
The mighty Richard, England's noble king,
Js dead. Ah, God! that death what voice can sing!
How terrible that word! how cruel its sound!
How cold were he whom all unmoved it found!

Dead is the king. A thousand years and more
Have passed since e'er his like on earth was seen;
Yet such a man there never lived before,
Of bounty and of bravery so vaunted,
E'en Alexander, who Darius daunted,
Ne'er gave so freely as my lord, I ween;
Nor Charles nor Arthur braver knights have been;
And of a truth, in half the world he waked
A mighty love — the rest in terror quaked.

Alas, Sir King! how will without thee fare
Tourneys and arms, and many a noble fight,
Many a rich feast, and gallant gift and rare,
Since thou, their founder, desolate dost leave us?
And how will all they fare of fortune grievous,
Who, serving thee, were raised from hapless plight.
And hoped that thou their toils wouldst rich requite?
How will those fare, to whom thou ere did'st give
Great wealth and power? Such now should scorn to live.

Such now will suffer grievous want and woe,
And endless tears for thee will dim their eyes.
Pagans and Turks for death of their dread foe,
Whom more than any mother's son they feared,
Down-trodden erst, their haughty heads have reared.
That hard it were to win the Tomb for prize.
So God doth will, but willed He otherwise,
And thou, my lord, did'st live, I nothing doubt
That soon from Syria thou would'st drive them out.

That kings and princes Syria regain,
Thereof, alack! all hope is long since dead;
But those that now do in thy place remain,
Should mind them of the fame thou hadst before them,
And of thy brothers, who full stoutly bore them,
(The young king and Earl Geoffrey, Bretagne's head),
And certes he that ruleth in their stead,
A constant heart should bear, and turn his face
From all things ill, and do the deeds of grace.

Great Lord and God, to whom belongeth pardon.
Thou that art God, and Man, and Life indeed,
Grant him that pardon that his sins do need;
His faults and failings mercifully o'erlook,
Remember that for Thee the Cross he took.