HIS falchion flashed along the Nile; His hosts he led through Alpine snows; O'er Moscow's towers, that shook the while, His eagle flag unrolled, -- and froze. Here sleeps he now, alone; -- not one Of all the kings whose crowns he gave, Nor sire, nor brother, wife, nor son, Hath ever seen or sought his grave. Here sleeps he now, alone; -- the star, That led him on from crown to crown, Hath sunk; -- the nations from afar Gazed, as it faded and went down. He sleeps alone; -- the mountain cloud That night hangs round him, and the breath Of morning scatters, is the shroud That wraps his martial form in death. High is his couch; -- the ocean flood Far, far below by storms is curled, As round him heaved, while high he stood, A stormy and inconstant world. Hark! Comes there from the Pyramids, And from Siberia's waste of snow, And Europe's fields, a voice that bids The world be awed to mourn him? -- No; -- The only, the perpetual dirge, That's heard here, is the sea-bird's cry, The mournful murmur of the surge, The cloud's deep voice, the wind's low sigh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO SIR HENRY WOTTON (1) by JOHN DONNE PAST AND PRESENT by ROWLAND EYLES EGERTON-WARBURTON RAIN ON THE ROOF (1) by COATES KINNEY HIMALAYA by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG WINTER MOUNTAIN by MARIANA BACHMAN NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 9 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT GERALDINE by EMILY JANE BRONTE |