Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE OLD CAVALIER, by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE Poet's Biography First Line: For our martyr'd charles I pawn'd my plate Last Line: "with my son on worcester plain." Subject(s): Cavaliers; Charles I, King Of England (1600-1649); Great Britain - History; English History | ||||||||
"FOR our martyr'd Charles I pawn'd my plate, For his son I spent my all, That a churl might dine, and drink my wine, And preach in my father's hall: That father died on Marston Moor, My son on Worcester plain; But the king he turn'd his back on me When he got his own again. "The other day, there came, God wot! A solemn, pompous ass, Who begged to know if I did not go To the sacrifice of Mass: I told him fairly to his face, That in the field of fight I had shouted loud for Church and King, When he would have run outright. "He talk'd of the Man of Babylon With his rosaries and copes, As if a Roundhead was n't worse Than half a hundred Popes. I don't know what the people mean, With their horror and affright; All Papists that I ever knew Fought stoutly for the right. "I now am poor and lonely, This cloak is worn and old, But yet it warms my loyal heart, Through sleet, and rain, and cold, When I call to mind the Cavaliers, Bold Rupert at their head, Bursting through blood and fire, with cries That might have wak'd the dead. "Then spur and sword was the battle word, And we made their helmets ring, Howling like madmen, all the while, For God and for the King. And though they snuffled psalms, to give The Rebel-dogs their due, When the roaring shot pour'd close and hot They were stalwart men and true. "On the fatal field of Naseby, Where Rupert lost the day By hanging on the flying crowd Like a lion on his prey, I stood and fought it out, until, In spite of plate and steel, The blood that left my veins that day Flow'd up above my heel. "And certainly, it made those quail Who never quail'd before, To look upon the awful front Which Cromwell's horsemen wore. I felt that every hope was gone, When I saw their squadrons form, And gather for the final charge Like the coming of the storm. "Oh! where was Rupert in that hour Of danger, toil, and strife? It would have been to all brave men Worth a hundred years of life To have seen that black and gloomy force, As it poured down in line, Met midway by the Royal horse And Rupert of the Rhine. "All this is over now, and I Must travel to the tomb, Though the king I serv'd has got his own, In poverty and gloom. Well, well, I serv'd him for himself, So I must not now complain, But I often wish that I had died With my son on Worcester plain." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG OF DEGREES by GEOFFREY HILL CHURCHILL'S FUNERAL by GEOFFREY HILL CONCERNING INHERITANCE by GEOFFREY HILL DARK-LAND (1) by GEOFFREY HILL DARK-LAND (2) by GEOFFREY HILL DARK-LAND (3) by GEOFFREY HILL THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS; OR, THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN CHINA by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE RIZPAH, DAUGHTER OF AIAH (WRITTEN FOR MUSIC) by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE THE RETURN OF THE GUARDS; JULY 9, 1856 by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE |
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