Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Aisle of Tombs
By Anonymous
T
Of the aisle of tombs;
The shadow and the stillness
A rosy light illumes:
Like the memory of the past,
On the carvéd arms delaying,
On the marble pall
O’er the blood-red scutcheon playing
With a crimson fall,
Into sudden sunshine cast
Are the ancient warriors,
The warriors of olden time.
Dwelling on their fame;
So doth memory fling above them
Its shadow of a name,
Noblest shadow flung on earth:
We remember many a story
Of the old chivalric day,
When the red-cross, like a glory,
Shone above the fray;
’T was a glorious age gave birth
To the ancient warriors,
The warriors of olden time.
As it was of old,
Though the shining spear be rusted
And the right hand cold,
They have left their fame behind;
Still a spirit from their slumbers
Rises true and brave,
Asks the minstrel for his numbers,
Music from their grave:
Noble, gentle, valiant, kind,
Were the ancient warriors,
The warriors of olden time.
In the earth at rest;
And the present hour hath cherished
What of them was best.
What a knight should be we keep.
For the present doth inherit
All the glories of the past;
We retain what was its spirit,
While its dust to dust is cast.
All good angels guard the sleep
Of the ancient warriors,
The warriors of olden time.