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Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III

Keeping festival in Ardenne, a romance. St. Alban's Abbey, a metrical tale; With some poetical pieces. By Anne Radcliffe ... To which is prefixed: A memoir of the author, with extracts from her journals. In four volumes

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XXIII.

The silver censer, burning near,
Sent incense o'er each marble bier;
And poursuivants, in tabard-pride,
Stood mute those warriors beside.
No 'scutcheon blazoned high was there;
But tattered banners on the air,
Sad witness of their master's fate,
Now, as mute mourners, seemed to wait.
Rose not the stately canopy,
With crowded lights, o'er hearse on high;
While troops of mourners, watching round,
Might creep to hear the Requiem sound.
Not such the solemn watch held now,
No lofty hearse—no mourners bow;
Nor blaze of tapers high in air;
Nor likeness of the dead was there.
The dead, each in his arms arrayed,
Exposed to many an eye was laid,
Forsaken save by heralds vain,
Nor mourned, but in the death-priests' strain.