Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, RICHARD LION-HEART, by WILSON STEWART ROSS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

RICHARD LION-HEART, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ha! Ha! My veins are raging hot, my hectic senses reel!
Last Line: "that death may find king richard with his armour girded on!"
Subject(s): Berengaria, Queen Of Leon (1197-1246)


"HA! ha! my veins are raging hot, my hectic senses reel!
Pshaw, fever! Bring my harness, squire, my morion of steel.
I cannot live supine like this, and die like coward slave:
Ho, reeling front of battle be the death-bed of the brave!

"No, no, my Berengaria! take that bandage from my head,
And bring me, gentle wife of mine, the iron helm instead:
And put thy snow-white favour in my plume, so dark and high;
Steel harness be my winding-sheet, a soldier let me die!

"Know, in this sainted Palestine, the Saviour died for me;
And my good sword and strong right arm shall strike for Him and thee;
And ne'er shall heathen sandals tread, and heathen banners wave,
O'er the garden of his agony, the glory of his grave!

"No! o'er the Moslem turban, and the flashing scimitar,
We'll pour the hosts of England in the thunder-crash of war.
On, warriors of the high crusade, bended bow and swinging sword, --
And wave o'er Pagan Ascalon the banner of the Lord!

"Gird on my heavy armour, bring my war-horse from the stall;
Sound the trumpet, shout Jehovah! forward, onward to the wall!
Come, gentle Berengaria, -- through the vizor bars, a kiss;
And I'll leave to weak old women a dying bed like this.

"Let Leopold of Austria die thus, when die he may;
Let craven Philip breathe his last far from the battle fray;
The couch of Richard Lion-heart must be the crimson sod,
Where, 'neath the banner'd cross, he fought for glory and for God.

"See, holy Carmel's dark with shame, red blushes Jordan's tide,
That Saladin should hold a day the land where Jesus died;
Ho! where the dead lie thickest upon earth's groaning breast,
At eve search for King Richard, and lay him to his rest!

"And not in dear old England lay you your leader dead,
But deep within this holy land lay you his helmed head;
Not English oak, but Syrian palm, shall guard his soldier's grave
In the sainted land he lived to love -- the land he died to save!

"O Salem, for thy Holy Tomb, O England, for thy throne,
King Death shall find King Richard with his armour girded on;
He'll greet thee, King of Terrors, o'er Jordan's mortal flood,
With a forehead wreath'd in laurel, and a hand imbrued in blood!

"Come, laggard knights, I charge you, haste, ere the sun go down,
And bear me on your shoulders to the ramparts of the town! --
Plunge him amid the battle shock, the grapple, yell, and groan,
That Death may find King Richard with his armour girded on!"





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