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.