Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DIRGE OF WALLACE, by THOMAS CAMPBELL Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: They lighted a taper at the dead of night Last Line: A nobler was never embalmed! Subject(s): Wallace, Sir William (1270-1305) | ||||||||
THEY lighted a taper at the dead of night, And chanted their holiest hymn; But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright -- Her eye was all sleepless and dim! And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, When a death-watch beat in her lonely room, When her curtain had shook of its own accord, And the raven had flapped at her window-board -- To tell of her warrior's doom. "Now, sing ye the death-song, and loudly pray For the soul of my knight so dear; And call me a widow this wretched day, Since the warning of God is here. For a nightmare rides on my strangled sleep: -- The lord of my bosom is doomed to die; His valorous heart they have wounded deep; And the blood-red tears shall his country weep For Wallace of Elderslie!" Yet knew not his country that ominous hour, Ere the loud matin bell was rung, That a trumpet of death on an English tower Had the dirge of her champion sung! When his dungeon light looked dim and red On the high-born blood of a martyr slain, No anthem was sung at his holy death-bed; No weeping there was when his bosom bled -- And his heart was rent in twain! Oh, it was not thus when his oaken spear Was true to that knight forlorn, And hosts of a thousand were scattered, like deer At the blast of the hunter's horn; When he strode on the wreck of each well-fought field With the yellow-haired chiefs of his native land; For his lance was not shivered on helmet or shield -- And the sword that seemed fit for Archangel to wield Was light in his terrible hand! Yet bleeding and bound, though the Wallace wight For his long-loved country die, The bugle ne'er sung to a braver knight Than William of Elderslie! But the day of his glory shall never depart; His head unentombed shall with glory be palmed: From its blood streaming altar his spirit shall start; Though the raven has fed on his mouldering heart, A nobler was never embalmed! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS THE SONG OF MARION by ELIZA COOK LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE OF THE WALLACE MONUMENT, STIRLING: 1861 by JANET HAMILTON WALLACE'S INVOCATION TO BRUCE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A DESCRIPTION OF WALLACE by HENRY THE MINSTREL LAMENT FOR THE GRAHAM by HENRY THE MINSTREL A SUMMARY HISTORY OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL BEAUTIES OF SCOTLAND, SELECTION by KENNETH MCLACHLAN BATTLE OF THE BALTIC by THOMAS CAMPBELL DOWNFALL OF POLAND [FALL OF WARSAW, 1794] by THOMAS CAMPBELL |
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