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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE CHIEFTAIN'S SON by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

Poet Analysis

First Line: YES, IT IS OURS! - THE FIELD IS WON
Last Line: AND BEAR HIM HOMEWARDS ON HIS BLOODY SHIELD.
Subject(s): WAR;

YES, it is ours! -- the field is won,
A dark and evil field!
Lift from the ground my noble son,
And bear him homewards on his bloody shield.

Let me not hear your trumpets ring,
Swell not the battle-horn!
Thoughts far too sad those notes will bring,
When to the grave my glorious flower is borne!

Speak not of victory! -- in the name
There is too much of woe!
Hushed be the empty voice of Fame --
Call me back his whose graceful head is low.

Speak not of victory! -- from my halls
The sunny hour is gone!
The ancient banner on my walls,
Must sink ere long; I had but him -- but one!

Within the dwelling of my sires
The hearths will soon be cold,
With me must die the beacon-fires
That streamed at midnight from the mountain-hold.

And let them fade, since this must be,
My lovely and my brave!
Was thy bright blood poured forth for me?
And is there but for stately youth a grave?

Speak to me once again, my boy!
Wilt thou not hear my call!
Thou wert so full of life and joy,
I had not dreamt of this -- that thou couldst fall!

Thy mother watches from the steep
For thy returning plume;
How shall I tell her that thy sleep
Is of the silent house, the untimely tomb?

Thou didst not seem as one to die,
With all thy young renown!
-- Ye saw his falchion's flash on high,
In the mid-fight, when spears and crests went down!

Slow be your march! the field is won!
A dark and evil field!
Lift from the ground my noble son,
And bear him homewards on his bloody shield.



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