Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 29 1831.pdf/11



How weeps yon gallant Band O'er him their valour could not save! For the bayonet is red with gore, And he, the beautiful and brave, Now sleeps in Egypt's sand.—

the shadow of the Pyramid Our brother's grave we made, When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey'd.

The blood-red sky above us    Was darkening into night, And the Arab watching silently Our sad and hurried rite.

The voice of Egypt's river Came hollow and profound, And one lone palm-tree, where we stood, Rock'd with a shivery sound:

While the shadow of the Pyramid Hung o'er the grave we made, When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey'd.

The fathers of our brother Were borne to knightly tombs, With torch-light and with anthem-note, And many waving plumes:

But he, the last and noblest Of that high Norman race, With a few brief words of soldier-love Was gather'd to his place;

In the shadow of the Pyramid, Where his youthful form we laid, When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey'd.

But let him, let him slumber By the old Egyptian wave! It is well with those who bear their fame Unsullied to the grave!

When brightest names are breathed on, When loftiest fall so fast, We would not call our brother back On dark days to be cast,

From the shadow of the Pyramid, Where his noble heart we laid, When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey'd.