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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!”

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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.