The Dirge Of Wallace Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCE EFEF EGEG EHEEH BABI JEJJK LMLM ENEEN EEEEE EEEK EEEEE| When Scotland's great Regent our warrior most dear | A |
| The debt of his nature did pay | B |
| T' was Edward the cruel had reason to fear | A |
| And cause to be struck with dismay | B |
| - | |
| At the window of Edward the raven did croak | C |
| Though Scotland a widow became | D |
| Each tie of true honor to Wallace he broke | C |
| The raven croaked quot Sorrow and shame quot | E |
| - | |
| At Eldersie Castle no raven was heard | E |
| But soothings of honor and truth | F |
| His spirit inspired the soul of the bard | E |
| To comfort the Love of his youth | F |
| - | |
| They lighted the tapers at dead of night | E |
| And chanted their holiest hymn | G |
| But her brow and her bosom were all damp with affright | E |
| Her eye was all sleepless and dim | G |
| - | |
| And the lady of Eldersie wept for her lord | E |
| With a death watch beat in her lonely room | H |
| When her curtain shook of its own accord | E |
| And the raven flapped at her window board | E |
| To tell of her warrior's doom | H |
| - | |
| Now sing ye the death song and loudly pray | B |
| For the soul of my knight so dear | A |
| And call me a widow this wretched day | B |
| Since the warning of God is here | I |
| - | |
| For a nightmare rests on my strangled sleep | J |
| The lord of my bosom is doomed to die | E |
| His valorous heart they have wounded deep | J |
| And the blood red tears his country shall weep | J |
| For Wallace of Elderslie | K |
| - | |
| Yet knew not his country that ominous hour | L |
| Ere the loud matin bell was rung | M |
| That the trumpet of death on an English tower | L |
| The dirge of her champion sung | M |
| - | |
| When his dungeon light looked dim and red | E |
| On the high born blood of a martyr slain | N |
| No anthem was sung at his lowly death bed | E |
| No weeping was there when his bosom bled | E |
| And his heart was rent in twain | N |
| - | |
| When he strode o'er the wreck of each well fought field | E |
| With the yellow haired chiefs of his native land | E |
| For his lace was not shivered on helmet or shield | E |
| And the sword that was fit for archangel to wield | E |
| Was light in his terrible hand | E |
| - | |
| Yet bleeding and bound though the quot Wallacewight quot | E |
| For his long loved country die | E |
| The bugle ne'er sung to a braver night | E |
| Than William of Elderslie | K |
| - | |
| But the day of his triumphs shall never depart | E |
| His head unemtombed shall with glory be palmed | E |
| From its blood streaming altar his spirit shall start | E |
| Though the raven has fed on his mouldering heart | E |
| A nobler was never embalmed | E |
Thomas Campbell
(1)
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About The Dirge Of Wallace
The Dirge Of Wallace is a poem by Thomas Campbell. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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