The Conqueror's Grave

    And yet the monument proclaims it not

    Nor round the sleeper²'s name hath chisel³ wrought⁴

    The emblems⁵ of a fame that never dies —

    Ivy⁶ and amaranth in a graceful⁷ sheaf

    Twined with the laurel's fair imperial leaf.

    A simple name alone

    To the great world unknown

    Is graven here and wild-flowers rising round

    Meek⁸ meadow-sweet and violets of the ground

    Lean lovingly against the humble⁹ stone.

    Here in the quiet earth they laid apart

    No man of iron mould and bloody¹⁰ hands

    Who sought to wreak¹¹ upon the cowering¹² lands

    The passions that consumed his restless heart；

    But one of tender spirit and delicate frame

    Gentlest in mien¹³ and mind

    Of gentle womankind

    Timidly shrinking from the breath of blame：

    One in whose eyes the smile of kindness made

    Its haunt like flowers by sunny brooks¹⁴ in May

    Yet at the thought of others' pain a shade

    Of sweeter sadness chased the smile away.

    Nor deem that when the hand that moulders¹⁵ here

    Was raised in menace realms were chilled with fear

    And armies mustered¹⁶ at the sign as when

    Clouds rise on clouds before the rainy East—

    Gray captains leading bands of veteran men

    And fiery¹⁷ youths to be the vulture's feast.

    Not thus were waged the mighty¹⁸ wars that gave

    The victory to her who fills this grave；

    Alone her task was wrought

    Alone the battle fought；

    Through that long strife¹⁹ her constant hope was staid

    On God alone nor looked for other aid.

    She met the hosts of Sorrow with a look

    That altered not beneath the frown they wore

    And soon the lowering brood were tamed and took

    Meekly²⁰ her gentle rule and frowned no more.

    Her soft hand put aside the assaults of wrath²¹

    And calmly broke in twain

    The fiery shafts²² of pain

    And rent the nets of passion from her path.

    By that victorious²³ hand despair was slain²⁴.

    With love she vanquished²⁵ hate and overcame

    Evil with good in her Great Master's name.

    Her glory is not of this shadowy state

    Glory that with the fleeting²⁶ season dies；

    But when she entered at the sapphire²⁷ gate

    What joy was radiant in celestial²⁸ eyes！

    How heaven's bright depths with sounding welcomes rung

    And flowers of heaven by shining hands were flung！

    And He who long before

    Pain scorn and sorrow bore

    The Mighty Sufferer with aspect sweet

    Smiled on the timid stranger from his seat；

    He who returning glorious from the grave

    Dragged Death disarmed²⁹ in chains a crouching³⁰ slave.

    See as I linger here the sun grows low；

    Cool airs are murmuring that the night is near.

    O gentle sleeper from thy grave I go

    Consoled though sad in hope and yet in fear.

    Brief is the time I know

    The warfare³¹ scarce begun；

    Yet all may win the triumphs thou hast won.

    Still flows the fount whose waters strengthened thee

    The victors' names are yet too few to fill

    Heaven's mighty roll； the glorious armory³²

    That ministered to thee is open still.