Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TOMB OF DE BRUCE, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TOMB OF DE BRUCE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: And liest thou, great monarch, this pavement below?
Last Line: By the chisel of fame on the tablet of time.
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Freedom; Graves; Honor; Robert I. King Of Scotland (1274-1329); Liberty; Tombs; Tombstones; Bruce, Robert; The Bruce


A Freedome is a noble thing;
Freedome makes man to have liking;
Freedome all solace to men gives:
He lives at ease that freely lives.
BARBOUR.

I.

AND liest thou, great Monarch, this pavement below?
Thou who wert in war like a rock to the ocean,
Like a star in the battle-field's stormy commotion,
Like a barrier of steel to the bursts of the foe!
All lofty thy boast, grey Dunfermline, may be,
That the bones of King Robert, the hero whose story,
'Mid our history's night, is a day-track of glory,
Find an honour'd and holy asylum in thee:
And here, till the world is eclips'd in decline,
Thy chosen ones, Scotland, shall kneel at this shrine.

II.

On Luxury's hot-bed thou sprang'st not to man—
From childhood Adversity's storms howl'd around thee;
And fain with his shackles had Tyranny bound thee,
When, lo! he beheld thee in Liberty's van!
To the dust down the Thistle of Scotland was trod;
'Twas wreck and 'twas ruin, 'twas discord and danger;
O'er her strongholds waved proudly the flag of the stranger;
Till thy sword, like the lightning, flashed courage abroad;
And the craven, that slept with his head on his hand,
Started up at thy war-shout, and belted his brand!

III.

How long Treason's pitfalls 'twas thine to avoid,—
Was the wild-fowl thy food, and thy beverage the fountain,
Was thy pillow the heath, and thy home on the mountain,
When that hope was cast down, which could not be destroy'd!
As the wayfarer longs for the dawning of morn,
So wearied thy soul for thy Country's awaking,
Unsheathing her terrible broadsword, and shaking
The fetters away, which in drowse she had worn:
At thy call she arous'd her to fight; and, in fear,
Invasion's fang'd bloodhounds were scatter'd like deer.

IV.

The broadsword and battle-axe gleam'd at thy call;
From the strath and the corrie, the cottage and palace,
Pour'd forth like a tide the avengers of Wallace,
To rescue their Scotland from rapine and thrall:
How glow'd the gaunt cheeks, long all careworn and pale,
As the recreant brave, to their duty returning,
In the eye of King Robert saw liberty burning,
And raised his wild gathering-cry forth on the gale!
O, then was the hour for a patriot to feel,
As he buckled his cuirass, the edge of his steel!

V.

When thou cam'st to the field all was ruin and woe;
'Twas dastardly terror or jealous distrusting;
In the hall hung the target and burgonet rusting;
The brave were dispersed, and triumphant the foe:—
But from chaos thy sceptre call'd order and awe—
'Twas Security's homestead; all flourish'd that near'd thee;
The worthy upheld, and the turbulent fear'd thee,
For thy pillars of strength were Religion and Law:
The meanest in thee a Protector could find—
Thou wert feet to the cripple, and eyes to the blind.

VI.

O, ne'er shall the fame of the patriot decay—
De Bruce! in thy name still our country rejoices;
It thrills Scottish heart-strings, it swells Scottish voices,
As it did when the Bannock ran red from the fray.
Thine ashes in darkness and silence may lie;
But ne'er, mighty hero, while earth hath its motion,
While rises the day-star, or rolls forth the ocean,
Can thy deeds be eclipsed or their memory die:
They stand thy proud monument, sculptur'd sublime
By the chisel of Fame on the Tablet of Time.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net