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THE NORMAN BARON

Dans les moments de la vie où la réflexion devient profonde, où l'intérêt et l'avarice parlent moins haut q les instants de chagrin domestique, de maladie, et de nobles se repentirent de posséder des serfs, comme d'une able à Dieu, qui avait créé tous les hommes à son image. THIERRY: CONQUÊTE DE 1

In his chamber, weak and dying,
Was the Norman baron lying;

Loud, without, the tempest thund

And the castle-turret shook.

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In this fight was Death the gainer,
Spite of vassal and retainer,

And the lands his sires had plundered,

Written in the Doomsday Book.

By his bed a monk was seated,

Who in humble voice repeated

Many a prayer and pater-noster,

From the missal on his knee;

And, amid the tempest pealing,
Sounds of bells came faintly stealing,

Bells, that, from the neighbouring kloster,
Rang for the Nativity.

In the hall, the serf and vassal

Held, that night, their Christmas wassail;

Many a carol, old and saintly,

Sang the minstrels and the waits.

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And so loud these Saxon glee

Sang to slaves the songs of fr

That the storm was heard but

Knocking at the castle-ga

Till at length the lays they cha Reached the chamber terror-ha Where the monk, with accents

Tears

Whispered at the baron's e

upon his eyelids glistened,

As he paused awhile and listened

And the dying baron slowly

Turned his weary head to h

"Wassail for the kingly stranger Born and cradled in a manger!

King, like David, priest, like Aar Christ is born to set us free!

And the lightning showed the sainted
Figures on the casement painted,
And exclaimed the shuddering baron,
"Miserere, Domine!"

In that hour of deep contrition,
He beheld, with clearer vision,

Through all outward show and fashion,
Justice, the Avenger, rise.

All the pomp of earth had vanished,
Falsehood and deceit were banished,
Reason spake more loud than passion,
And the truth wore no disguise.

Every vassal of his banner,

Every serf born to his manor,

All those wronged and wretched creatures,

By his hand were freed again.

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And, as on the sacred missal
He recorded their dismissal,
Death relaxed his iron features,
And the monk replied, "A

Many centuries have been numbe Since in death the baron slumber By the convent's sculptured porta Mingling with the common d

But the good deed, through the a Living in historic pages,

Brighter grows and gleams immort

Unconsumed by moth or rust

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