112 Wbt tfut-ftwe of &ogamon&'g ffirabe. 



His martial figure of grey marble still reposes on his 

 tomb, sleeping, as it were, from century to century with 

 his sword and shield. The features of this son, and 

 brother, and uncle of kings, are only partially exposed, 

 through a small aperture in the hood of mail, which 

 covers his mouth and chin, the eyebrows betoken some- 

 what of a lofty and impetuous feeling, but the eyes seem 

 gentle and intelligent.* 



The day of death is light, in comparison of its bitter- 

 ness, with that of the interment. In the former case, 

 the spirit indeed has passed away, yet the form remains. 

 The wife, or child, or parent can sit beside the couch, 

 and gaze on the still unchanged features. But when 

 the grave has once closed upon the loved one, what 

 words can tell the utter desolation that presses on 

 the heart ! Thus felt the Lady Ela, when the last words 

 of the solemn service ceased, when the sound of footsteps 

 neared to the grave's edge, and somewhat heavy seemed 

 to be letting down into the darkness and the depth, 

 when her half-averted eye looked for the last time on the 

 narrow coffin, resting now within the grave, but soon to 

 be concealed for ever. Lady Ela heeded not the words 

 of comfort which the pale priest spoke, nor yet the 

 solemn chanting that burst forth again, as if to bear her 

 spirit up with holy hopes from out the wretchedness of 

 her sad lot. But the Lord, in whom she trusted, did 

 not forsake her, and when she returned to her home, 

 * Annals and Antiquities of Lacock Abbey. 



