Page:Frederic Rowton on Landon.pdf/15

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They pass'd next a low and humble church, Scarce seen amid the gloom; There was many a grave, yet not even there Had his father found a tomb.

They travers'd a bleak and barren heath, Till they came to a gloomy wood; Where the dark trees droop'd, and the dark grass grew, As curs'd with the sight of blood.

There stood a lorn and blasted tree, As heaven and earth were its foes, And beneath was a piled-up mound of stones, Where a rude grey cross arose.

"And lo!" said the ancient servitor, "It is here thy father is laid; No mass has bless'd the lowly grave, Which his humblest follower made.

"I would have wander'd through every land Where his gallant name was known, To have pray'd a mass for the soul of the dead, And a monumental stone.

"But I knew thy father had a son, To whom the task would be dear; Young knight, I kept the warrior's grave For thee, and thou art here."

Sir Walter grasped the old man's hand, But spoke he never a word;— So still it was that the fall of tears On his mailed vest was heard.

Oh, the heart has all too many tears: But none are like those that wait On the blighted love, the loneliness Of the young orphan's fate.