Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DEATH OF WALLACE, by ROBERT SOUTHEY

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THE DEATH OF WALLACE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Joy, joy in london now!
Last Line: Go, edward, to thy god!
Subject(s): Great Britain - History; Happiness; London; Scotland - Relations With England; Wallace, Sir William (1270-1305); English History; Joy; Delight

JOY, joy in London now!
He goes, the rebel Wallace goes to death,
At length the traitor meets the traitor's doom,
Joy, joy in London now!

He on a sledge is drawn,
His strong right arm unweapon'd and in chains,
And garlanded around his helmless head
The laurel wreath of scorn.

They throng to view him now
Who in the field had fled before his sword,
Who at the name of Wallace once grew pale
And faltered out a prayer.

Yes, they can meet his eye,
That only beams with patient courage now;
Yes, they can gaze upon those manly limbs
Defenceless now and bound.

And that eye did not shrink
As he beheld the pomp of infamy,
Nor did one rebel feeling shake those limbs
When the last moment came.

What though suspended sense
Was by their damned cruelty revived;
What though ingenious vengeance lengthened life
To fell protracted death—

What though the hangman's hand
Graspt in his living breast the heaving heart,
In the last agony, the last sick pang,
Wallace had comfort still.

He called to mind his deeds
Done for his country in the embattled field;
He thought of that good cause for which he died,
And it was joy in death!

Go, Edward, triumph now!
Cambria is fallen, and Scotland's strength is crush'd;
On Wallace, on Llewellyn's mangled limbs
The fowls of heaven have fed.

Unrivalled, unopposed,
Go, Edward, full of glory, to thy grave!
The weight of patriot blood upon thy soul,
Go, Edward, to thy God!

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