Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826/The Burial of William the Conqueror
The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 17, Pages 135-136
THE BURIAL OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
A very remarkable account is given in Sismondi's Histoire des Français (vol. iv. p. 481) of the circumstances attending the death and burial of William the Conqueror. It is thus concluded—"Enfin le corps étoit déjà deposé dans la fosse, et avant qu'on le recouvrit de terre, Gislebert, Evêque d'Evreux, prononçait son pannégyrique, lorsqu'un Normand, nommé Ascelin, se leva du milieu de la foule, et s'écria à haute voix, 'Cet homme dont vous venez de prononcer l'éloge, vous allez l'enterrer dans une terre qui est à moi. Ici même étoit ma maison paternelle, et il l’enleva à mon Père contre toute justice, sans jamais la lui payer, pour y bâtir cette Eglise. Je vous interdis, au nom de Dieu, de couvrir le corps du Ravisseur, avec une terre qui m'appartient.' Cette protestation frappa de componction les Seigneurs et les Evêques qui l'entendirent; ils firent immédiatement autour du cercueil une collecte pour racheter d' Ascelin, le place même où son Souverain seroit enterré; ils lui promirent que plus tard on le compenseroit pour la perte de son heritage, et ils lui tinrent parole; car le fait qu'il avait rappelé était de notorieté publique."
Lowly upon his bier
The royal Conqueror lay;
Baron and Chief stood near,
Silent in war-array.
Down the long minster's aisle
Crowds mutely gazing stream'd;
Altar and tomb the while
Through mists of incense gleam'd.
And by the torch's blaze
The stately priest had said
High words of power and praise
To the glory of the dead.
They lower'd him, with the sound
Of requiems, to repose;
When from the throngs around
A solemn voice arose:—
"Forbear! forbear!" it cried;
"In the Holiest Name forbear!
He hath conquer'd regions wide,
But he shall not slumber there!
"By the violated hearth
Which made way for you, proud shrine;
By the harvests which this earth
Hath borne for me and mine;
"By the house e'en here o'erthrown,
On my brethren's native spot;
Hence! with his dark renown,
Cumber our birth-place not!
"Will my sire's unransom'd field,
O'er which your censers wave,
To the buried spoiler yield
Soft slumbers in the grave?
"The tree before him fell
Which we cherish'd many a year,
But its deep root yet shall swell,
And heave against his bier!
"The land that I have till'd,
Hath yet its brooding breast
With my Home's white ashes fill'd,
And it shall not give him rest!
"Each pillar's massy bed
Hath been wet by weeping eyes
—Away! bestow your Dead
Where no wrong against him cries."
Shame glow'd on each dark face
Of those proud and steel-girt men,
And they bought with gold a place
For their leader's dust e'en then.
A little earth for him
Whose banner flew so far!
—And a peasant's tale could dim
The name, a nation's star!
One deep voice thus arose
From a heart which wrongs had riven—
Oh! who shall number those
That were but heard in Heaven?
F. H.