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Then there was weeping and dolor out of measure. And they buried Sir Launcelot with great devotion. The Household of Sir Thomas More Anne Manning, one of the most active women novelists of Queen Victoria's reign, was born in London on February 17, 1807.
But you cannot go utterly alone. Alas! that I am too old to be of any use. Cripit verba dolor, my dear Prince, at the thought that I am over seventy and of no more account in the world than a cripple in the church porch. It seems that to sit at home and pray to God for the nation and for you is all I am fit for. But there is my son, my youngest son, Peter. He will make a worthy companion for you.
Prince Dolor looked at them as one after the other they glided past him; and they looked at him those pretty swallows, with their changing necks and bright eyes as if wondering to meet in mid-air such an extraordinary sort of bird. "Oh, I wish I were going with you, you lovely creatures! I'm getting so tired of this dull plain, and the dreary and lonely tower. I do so want to see the world!
Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, or it appeared to him a good while, so many thoughts came and went through his poor young mind thoughts of great bitterness, which, little though he was, seemed to make him grow years older in a few minutes.
In this version Joseph himself is the Fisher King; ensnared by the beauty of the daughter of the Pagan King of Norway, whom he has slain, he baptizes her, though she is still an unbeliever at heart, and makes her his wife, thus drawing the wrath of Heaven upon himself. God punishes him for his sin: "Es rains et desous l'afola De coi grant dolor endura."
It was so long since he had asked her help that he was hardly surprised when he got no answer only the little lark outside the window sang louder and louder, and the sun rose, flooding the room with light. Prince Dolor sprang out of bed, and began dressing himself, which was hard work, for he was not used to it he had always been accustomed to depend upon his nurse for everything.
Well, so long. High grade. Card inside. Yes. By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. At Geneva barrack that young man died. At Passage was his body laid. Dolor! O, he dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer.
Shutting the skylight with an angry bang, she brought in the supper and lit the candles with her usual unhappy expression of countenance. But Prince Dolor hardly saw it; he only saw, hid in the corner where nobody else would see it, his wonderful traveling-cloak.
After that he curled himself up under the bear-skin rug, and though he determined to be the most wide-awake boy imaginable, being so exceedingly snug and warm and comfortable, Prince Dolor condescended to shut his eyes just for one minute. The next minute he was sound asleep. When he awoke, he found himself floating over a country quite unlike anything he had ever seen before.
There were a few kind souls, mothers of families, who had heard his sad story, and some servants about the palace, who had been familiar with his sweet ways these many a time sighed and said, "Poor Prince Dolor!"
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