Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON A PORTRAIT OF SIFR JOHN SUCKLING, by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN Poet's Biography First Line: Two hundred years, my hero, thou hast lain Last Line: To the great gone-away? Alternate Author Name(s): Lancaster, William P.; Preston, George F.; De Tabley, 3d Baron; De Tabley, Lord Subject(s): Suckling, John (1609-1642) | ||||||||
Two hundred years, my hero, thou hast lain Rusting in earth. The world has gone its way Careless that Death has mown thy golden youth. Soldiers have fought and died and known not thee. Maidens have loved, who never heard thy name. And thou, whom Muses crowned with every gift, While yet a boy -- tho' in achievement man And monarch -- young in years yet ripe in fame, Art snatched away; while this grim raven, Death, Feeds on the light and glory of the world. Heroic heart, long silent in the dust; Where is the warrior's tomb, what grey church tower Is honoured by thy rest? Art thou inurned In some dim Norfolk village, whence thy race Came of a kindly stock who fed their beeves And grew their grain? Hast thou an effigy Armoured in stone, with angels at the base In alabaster sorrow; as the mode Ran of sepulchral grief? And overhead Thy gauntlet and thy banner and thy helm Nailed to the chancel wall, and covered quite With cobwebs. While thy wasted banner droops As if the spiders wove its ragged sides. And this thy hatchment, azure once and gules, And three stags golden, emblems of thy race, Effaced and tarnished, half the tinctures gone. Oblivion and a hecatomb of dust Invade the silent precincts of thy rest, And thro' the lancet window I can hear The voices of the village, forge and mart, Harrow and spade, the mill-wheel and the plough. While in the coppice sole, one nightingale Sings me reminders of a note as sweet And tender as her own; and while she sings Thou art not quite forgot, my soldier bard, Here in the pastoral village of thy youth. Tender and great, true poet, dauntless heart, We cannot see with eyes as clear as thine. A sordid time dwarfs down the race of men. They may not touch the lute or draw the sword As thou didst, half immortal. So we hang A wreath of homage on our captain's urn. Farewell, to other scenes we must begone. The elms are shining in the sun: the roofs Melt with the mighty rain. The uprolled cloud Soars in its majesty away through heaven. The morning breaks in red and lustre. Earth Is glad because of her. But we bewail The young glad light of our Apollo gone, Thy laurel, and thy lyre with broken chords, And snapt below the hilt, thy gallant sword. Where is the winsome lady whom he met In that old spring among the old-world flowers? Where are her fairy footsteps, where are gone Aglaura's graceful curls? The tender rose That lay against her cavalier's soft kiss: The lordly, the invincible, the king Of every Muse. Surely, that giant wreath, Stamped on the opening page of thy renown, Made out of all the woods, that leaf shedding Of rathe Castalia's orchards, that green round Shall wrap thee in with honour, dear and dead, True gentleman, great type of ages gone, To shallow natures in the days of smoke: Radiant Apollo, warrior, Englishman, To whom the cannon calling or the lute Came with an equal voice: colleague of gods, Such as the puny mothers of the world No longer nourish on degenerate breasts, The giants of the dawn, that never more Shall come again. Old England, hear me say, This man has lain in dust two hundred years, Hast thou another such, my country, peer To the great gone-away? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S HUNDRED HORSE by ANONYMOUS ANSWER TO SUCKLING'S SONG ( OUT UPON IT ) by TOBY MATTHEWS NUPTIAL SONG by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN A SIMPLE MAID by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN A SONG OF DUST by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN A SONG OF FAITH FORSWORN by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN A WOODLAND GRAVE by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN CHORUS, FR. MEDEA by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN CIRCE by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN |
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