Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
The Last Crusader
By Edward, Lord Lytton (18031873)L
The land that girds the Saviour’s grave;
Where Godfrey’s crosier-standard rose,
He saw the crescent-banner wave.
The halo-light on Zion glowed;
There Kedron, with a voice of wail,
By tombs of saints and heroes flowed;
The dimness of the distant hill;
There still the flowers that Sharon bore,
Calm air with many an odor fill.
The towers, the mount, the stream, the plain,
And thought of those whose blood had dyed
The earth with crimson streams in vain!
The hosts that over land and deep
The Hermit marshalled on their way,
To see those towers, and halt to weep!
O’er burning wastes the cross to bear,
And rescue from the Paynim’s hands
The empire of a sepulchre!
And vain the famine and the strife:
In vain the faith that bore the cross,
The valor prodigal of life!
And guileless Godfrey’s patient mind,—
Like waves on shore, they reached the goal,
To die, and leave no trace behind!
“And art thou careless of thine own?
For us thy Son in Salem died,
And Salem is the scoffer’s throne!
To godless hands the holy tomb?
Against thy saints the heathen rage,—
Launch forth thy lightnings and consume!”
A form flashed, white-robed, from above;
All Heaven was in those looks of light,
But Heaven, whose native air is love.
“Thy God is of the shield and spear,—
To bless the quick and raise the dead,
The Saviour-God descended here!
The hearts that seek, through blood, the Son;
O warrior! never by the sword
The Saviour’s Holy Land is won!”