Under the stone you behold, <br />Buried, and coffined, and cold, <br />Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold. <br /> <br />Always he marched in advance, <br />Warring in Flanders and France, <br />Doughty with sword and with lance. <br /> <br />Famous in Saracen fight, <br />Rode in his youth the good knight, <br />Scattering Paynims in flight. <br /> <br />Brian the Templar untrue, <br />Fairly in tourney he slew, <br />Saw Hierusalem too. <br /> <br />Now he is buried and gone, <br />Lying beneath the gray stone: <br />Where shall you find such a one? <br /> <br />Long time his widow deplored, <br />Weeping the fate of her lord, <br />Sadly cut off by the sword. <br /> <br />When she was eased of her pain, <br />Came the good Lord Athelstane, <br />When her ladyship married again.<br /><br />William Makepeace Thackeray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/requiescat-7/
