Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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THE WARRIOR'S FUNERAL. |
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 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
THE WARRIOR'S FUNERAL.
A Warrior's funeral stern and sad
Went gleaming through the night,
And the wind-waved torches reddening glared
With a wild and fitful light.
Went gleaming through the night,
And the wind-waved torches reddening glared
With a wild and fitful light.
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'Twas a Warrior, dauntless in the field,
And fearless of the foe!
But shield nor spear might serve to ward,
Death! Death! thy certain blow!
And fearless of the foe!
But shield nor spear might serve to ward,
Death! Death! thy certain blow!
With their arms reversed and muffled drum,
They bore him to his grave,
Thrice clanged the peal of musquetry,
Be blessings on the brave!
They bore him to his grave,
Thrice clanged the peal of musquetry,
Be blessings on the brave!
What shall the Warrior's trophies be?
Place, place the banner near,
Let the plumed helm hang proud beside,
And the threatening sword and spear.
Place, place the banner near,
Let the plumed helm hang proud beside,
And the threatening sword and spear.
Let the Eagle, bird of victory bold,
Be sculptured fairly there,
So shall the dim sepulchral hall
An air of triumph wear!
Be sculptured fairly there,
So shall the dim sepulchral hall
An air of triumph wear!
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Nay! there no warlike trophies place,
'Twere veriest mockery all—
In the chamber of unbroken peace,
Cold Death's sepulchral hall!
'Twere veriest mockery all—
In the chamber of unbroken peace,
Cold Death's sepulchral hall!
Enough of bitterness and wrath,
Of restlessness and strife,
Attend our painful labour'd steps,
Through the steepy paths of life.
Of restlessness and strife,
Attend our painful labour'd steps,
Through the steepy paths of life.
Why should we seek, Oh! Holy Peace!
Thy solemn show to chase
From the precincts of the silent tomb,
The undreaming slumber's place?
Thy solemn show to chase
From the precincts of the silent tomb,
The undreaming slumber's place?
No marvel! when through life we strive,
With weak and senseless arts,
As though it were our one chief aim,
To chase thee from our hearts!
With weak and senseless arts,
As though it were our one chief aim,
To chase thee from our hearts!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |