The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
281
TROUBADOUR SONG.
They rear'd no trophy o'er his grave,
They bade no requiem flow;
What left they there to tell the brave
That a warrior sleeps below?
They bade no requiem flow;
What left they there to tell the brave
That a warrior sleeps below?
A shiver'd spear, a cloven shield,
A helm with its white plume torn,
And a blood-stain'd turf on the fatal field,
Where a chief to his rest was borne.
A helm with its white plume torn,
And a blood-stain'd turf on the fatal field,
Where a chief to his rest was borne.
He lies not where his fathers sleep,
But who hath a tomb more proud?
For the Syrian wilds his records keep,
And a banner is his shroud.
But who hath a tomb more proud?
For the Syrian wilds his records keep,
And a banner is his shroud.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |