Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WELLINGTON'S FUNERAL, by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Victory!' / so once more the cry must be Last Line: Lost and won. Alternate Author Name(s): Rossetti, Gabriel Charles Dante Subject(s): Wellesley, Arthur (1769-1852); Wellington, Duke Of | ||||||||
1'th November, 1852 'VICTORY!' So once more the cry must be. Duteous mourning we fulfil In God's name; but by God's will, Doubt not, the last word is still 'Victory!' Funeral, In the music round this pall, Solemn grief yields earth to earth; But what tones of solemn mirth In the pageant of new birth Rise and fall? For indeed, If our eyes were opened, Who shall say what escort floats Here, which breath nor gleam denotes,-- Fiery horses, chariots Fire-footed? Trumpeter, Even thy call he may not hear; Long-known voice for ever past, Till with one more trumpet-blast God's assuring word at last Reach his ear. Multitude, Hold your breath in reverent mood: For while earth's whole kindred stand Mute even thus on either hand, This soul's labour shall be scann'd And found good. Cherubim, Lift ye not even now your hymn? Lo! once lent for human lack, Michael's sword is rendered back. Thrills not now the starry track, Seraphim? Gabriel, Since the gift of thine 'All hail!' Out of Heaven no time hath brought Gift with fuller blessing fraught Than the peace which this man wrought Passing well. Be no word Raised of bloodshed Christ abhorr'd. Say: ''Twas thus in His decrees Who Himself, the Prince of Peace, For His harvest's high increase Sent a sword.' Veterans, He by whom the neck of France Then was given unto your heel, Timely sought, may lend as well To your sons his terrible Countenance. Waterloo! As the last grave must renew, Ere fresh death, the banshee-strain,-- So methinks upon thy plain Falls some presage in the rain, In the dew. And O thou, Watching with an exile's brow Unappeased, o'er death's dumb flood:-- Lo! the saving strength of God In some new heart's English blood Slumbers now. Emperor, Is this all thy work was for?-- Thus to see thy self-sought aim, Yea thy titles, yea thy name, In another's shame, to shame Bandied o'er? Wellington, Thy great work is but begun. With quick seed his end is rife Whose long tale of conquering strife Shows no triumph like his life Lost and won. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS (THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON) by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON ON HEARING HIM MISPRAISED by MATTHEW ARNOLD SONNET TO BRITAIN by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN DON JUAN: CANTO 9 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LAST WORDS: NAPOLEON AND WELLINGTON by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH ON A DRAWING OF THE ELM-TREE; ... DUKE OF WELLINGTON STOOD by GEORGE CRABBE WELLINGTON by BENJAMIN DISRAELI LORD WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS by THOMAS MOORE FOUND' (FOR A PICTURE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |
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