THEY reared no trophy o'er his grave. They bade no requiem flow; What left they there to tell the brave That a warrior sleeps below? A shivered spear, a cloven shield, A helm with its white plume torn, And a blood-stained turf on the fatal field, Where a chief to his rest was borne. He lies not where his fathers sleep, But who hath a tomb more proud? For the Syrian wilds his record keep, And a banner is his shroud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 6. GRUACH by GORDON BOTTOMLEY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 109 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE PIAZZA OF ST. MARK AT MIDNIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE GRAVE OF COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE TO MR. BARBAULD, WITH A MAP OF THE LAND OF MATRIMONY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SWORD AND BUCKLER; OR, SERVING-MAN'S DEFENCE: TO THE READER by WILLIAM BASSE |