ON THE FUNERAL OF CHARLES THE FIRST,
AT NIGHT, IN ST GEORGE'S CHAPEL, WINDSOR.
1
The castle clock had tolled midnight:
With mattock and with spade,
And silent, by the torches' light,
His corse in earth we laid.
2
The coffin bore his name, that those
Of other years might know,
When earth its secrets should disclose,
Whose bones were laid below.
3
“Peace to the dead” no children sung,
Slow pacing up the nave,—
No prayers were read, no knell was rung,
As deep we dug his grave.
4
We only heard the winter's wind,
In many a sullen gust,
As, o'er the open grave inclined,
We murmured, “Dust to dust!”
5
A moonbeam from the arch's height
Streamed, as we placed the stone;
The long aisles started into light,
And all the windows shone.
6
We thought we saw the banners then,
That shook along the walls,
Whilst the sad shades of mailèd men
Were gazing on the stalls.
7
'Tis gone! again on tombs defaced
Sits darkness more profound;
And only by the torch we traced
The shadows on the ground.
8
And now the chilling, freezing air
Without blew long and loud;
Upon our knees we breathed one prayer,
Where he slept in his shroud.
9
We laid the broken marble floor,—
No name, no trace appears,—
And when we closed the sounding door,
We thought of him with tears.