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lirik lagu richard mitchley - james whitcomb riley - grant at rest august 8th 1885

sir launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and held no path but as wild adventure led him… and he returned and came again to his horse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirdled his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. ~~age of chivalry

what shall we say of the soldier. grant
his sword put by and his great soul free?
how shall we cheer him now or chant
his requiem befittingly?
the fields of his conquest now are seen
ranged no more with his armed men~~
but the rank and file of the gold and green
of the waving grain is there again
though his valiant life is a nation’s pride
and his death heroic and half divine
and our grief as great as the world is wide
there breaks in speech but a single line~~:
we loved him living, revere him dead~~!
a silence then on our lips is laid:
we can say no thing that has not been said
nor pray one prayer that has not been prayed
but a spirit within us speaks: and lo
we lean and listen to wondrous words
that have a sound as of winds that blow
and the voice of waters and low of herds;
and we hear, as the song flows on serene
the neigh of horses, and then the beat
of hooves that skurry o’er pastures green
and the patter and pad of a boy’s bare feet
a brave lad, wearing a manly brow
knit as with problems of grave dispute
and a face, like the bloom of the orchard bough
pink and pallid, but resolute;
and flushed it grows as the clover~bloom
and fresh it gleams as the morning dew
as he reins his steed where the quick quails boom
up from the grasses he races through
and ho! as he rides what dreams are his?
and what have the breezes to suggest~~?
do they whisper to him of sh~lls that whiz
o’er fields made ruddy with wrongs redressed?
does the hawk above him an eagle float?
does he thrill and his boyish heart beat high
hearing the ribbon about his throat
flap as a flag as the winds go by?
and does he dream of the warrior’s fame~~
this western boy in his rustic dress?
for in miniature, this is the man that came
riding out of the wilderness~~!
the selfsame figure~~ the knitted brow~~
the eyes full steady~~ the lips full mute~~
and the face, like the bloom of the orchard bough
pink and pallid, but resolute
ay, this is the man, with features grim
and stoical as the sphinx’s own
that heard the harsh guns calling him
as musical as the bugle blown
when the sweet spring heavens were clouded o’er
with a tempest, glowering and wild
and our country’s flag bowed down before
its bursting wrath as a stricken child
thus, ready mounted and booted and spurred
he loosed his bridle and dashed away~~!
like a roll of drums were his hoof~beats heard
like the shriek of the fife his charger’s neigh!
and over his shoulder and backward blown
we heard his voice, and we saw the sod
reel, as our wild steeds chased his own
as though hurled on by the hand of god!
and still, in fancy, we see him ride
in the blood~red front of a hundred frays
his face set stolid, but glorified
as a knight’s of the old arthurian days:
and victor ever as courtly too
gently lifting the vanquished foe
and staying him with a hand as true
as dealt the deadly avenging blow
so brighter than all of the cl~ster of stars
of the flag enshrouding his form to~day
his face shines forth from the grime of wars
with a glory that shall not pass away:
he rests at last: he has borne his part
of salutes and salvos and cheers on cheers~~
but o the sobs of his country’s heart
and the driving rain of a nations tears!

- lirik lagu richard mitchley

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