Requiem Second, XXXVII

They have made St Baldred’s grave Under Preston’s sculptured nave, Where forgotten ’scutcheons wave Of those who’ve pass’d away! Gentle space, and mossy stone, Tell of him who dazzling shone The meteor of his day! He, whom nations could not bound, Lies in a few feet of ground! And he, whom kings wou’d bleed to save, Will lie forgotten in the grave!

They have borne the saint’s last pall, And placed his statue in the wall; Dust to dust the bell is tolling, As it must toll for all; While through the aisles the anthem’s rolling, Lovely in its dying fall, Fanning, with melodious breath, The solitary house of death!