The Aisle of Tombs

The interior of Chester-le-Street church, Durham, contains a singular collection of monuments, bearing effigies of the deceased ancestry of the Lumley family, from the time of Liulphus to the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

The quiet and the chillness
    Of the aisle of tombs;
The shadow and the stillness
    A rosy light illumes:
        Like the memory of the past,
    On the carved arms delaying,
On the marble pall
    O’er the blood-red scutcheon playing
With a crimson fall,
        Into sudden sunshine cast
            Are the ancient warriors,
            The warriors of olden time.

So with kindled heart we love them,
    Dwelling on their fame,
So doth memory fling above them
    Its shadow of a name;
        Noblest shadow flung on earth:
We remember many a story
    Of the old chivalric day,
When the red cross, like a glory,
    Shone above the fray;
        ’Twas a glorious age gave birth
            To the ancient warriors,
            The warriors of olden time.

Though the sword no more be trusted
    As it was of old;
Tho’ the shining spear be rusted,
    And the right hand cold;
        They have left their fame behind,
Still a spirit from their slumbers
    Rises true and brave;
Asks the minstrel for his numbers,
    Music from their grave:
        Noble, gentle, valiant, kind,
            Were the ancient warriors.
            The warriors of olden time.

All their meaner part hath perished,
    In the earth at rest;
And the present hour hath cherished
    What of them was best.
        What a knight should be we keep;
For the present doth inherit
    All the glories of the past;
We retain what was its spirit,
    While its dust to dust is cast,
        All good angels guard the sleep
            Of the ancient warriors,
            The warriors of olden time.