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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
France: Vols. IX–X. 1876–79.


To the Memory of Edward the Black Prince

By Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832)

(From Rob Roy)

O FOR the voice of that wild horn,

On Fontarabian echoes borne,

The dying hero’s call,

That told imperial Charlemagne

How Paynim sons of swarthy Spain

Had wrought his champion’s fall.

Sad over earth and ocean sounding,

And England’s distant cliffs astounding,

Such are the notes should say

How Britain’s hope and France’s fear,

Victor of Cressy and Poitier,

In Bourdeaux dying lay.

“Raise my faint head, my squires,” he said,

“And let the casement be displayed,

That I may see once more

The splendor of the setting sun

Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne,

And Blaye’s empurpled shore.”

“Like me, he sinks to Glory’s sleep,

His fall the dews of evening steep,

As if in sorrow shed;

So soft shall fall the trickling tear,

When England’s maids and matrons hear

Of their Black Edward dead.

“And though my sun of glory set,

Nor France nor England shall forget

The terror of my name;

And oft shall Britain’s heroes rise,

New planets in these southern skies,

Through clouds of blood and flame.”