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;
Though 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 perish'd
In the earth at rest;
And the present hour hath cherish'd
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.