Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE VIGIL OF ARMS, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE VIGIL OF ARMS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A sounding step was heard by night
Last Line: "might aid me at the last."
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Knights & Knighthood


A SOUNDING step was heard by night
In a church where the mighty slept,
As a mail-clad youth, till morning's light,
'Midst the tombs his vigil kept.
He walked in dreams of power and fame,
He lifted a proud, bright eye,
For the hours were few that withheld his name
From the roll of chivalry.

Down the moon-lit aisles he paced alone,
With a free and stately tread;
And the floor gave back a muffled tone
From the couches of the dead:
The silent many that round him lay,
The crowned and helmed that were,
The haughty chiefs of the war-array --
Each in his sepulchre!

But no dim warning of time or fate
That youth's flushed hopes could chill,
He moved through the trophies of buried state
With each proud pulse throbbing still.
He heard, as the wind through the chancel sung,
A swell of the trumpet's breath;
He looked to the banners on high that hung,
And not to the dust beneath.

And a royal masque of splendour seemed
Before him to unfold;
Through the solemn arches on it streamed,
With many a gleam of gold:
There were crested knight and gorgeous dame,
Glittering athwart the gloom,
And he followed, till his bold step came
To his warrior-father's tomb.

But there the still and shadowy might
Of the monumental stone,
And the holy sleep of the soft lamp's light,
That over its quiet shone,
And the image of that sire, who died
In his noonday of renown --
These had a power unto which the pride
Of fiery life bowed down.

And a spirit from his early years
Came back o'er his thoughts to move,
Till his eye was filled with memory's tears,
And his heart with childhood's love!
And he looked, with a change in his softering glance,
To the armour o'er the grave, --
For there they hung, the shield and lance,
And the gauntlet of the brave.

And the sword of many a field was there,
With its cross for the hour of need,
When the knight's bold war-cry hath sunk in prayer,
And the spear is a broken reed! --
Hush! did a breeze through the armour sigh?
Did the folds of the banner shake?
Not so! -- from the tomb's dark mystery
There seemed a voice to break!

He had heard that voice bid clarions blow,
He had caught its last blessing's breath, --
'Twas the same -- but its awful sweetness now
Had an under-tone of death!
And it said, -- "The sword hath conquered kings,
And the spear through realms hath passed;
But the cross, alone, of all these things,
Might aid me at the last."





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