Lay his sword by his side -- it hath served him too well <br />Not to rest near his pillow below; <br />To the last moment true, from his hand ere it fell, <br />Its point was still turn'd to a flying foe. <br />Fellow-labourers in life, let them slumber in death, <br />Side by side, as becomes the reposing brave -- <br />That sword which he loved still unbroke in its sheath, <br />And himself unsubdued in his grave. <br /> <br />Yet pause -- for, in fancy, a still voice I hear, <br />As if breathed from his brave heart's remains; -- <br />Faint echo of that which, in Slavery's ear, <br />Once sounded the war-word, "Burst your chains." <br />And it cries, from the grave where the hero lies deep, <br />"Though the day of your Chieftain for ever hath set, <br />Oh leave not his sword thus inglorious to sleep -- <br />It hath victory's life in it yet! <br /> <br />"Should some alien, unworthy such weapon to wield, <br />Dare to touch thee, my own gallant sword, <br />Then rest in thy sheath, like a talisman seal'd, <br />Or return to the grave of thy chainless lord. <br />But, if grasp'd by a hand that hath learn'd the proud use <br />Of a falchion, like thee, on the battle-plain, <br />Then, at Liberty's summons, like lightning let loose, <br />Leap forth from thy dark sheath again!"<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lay-his-sword-by-his-side/
