Where a king lay stately on his bier
In the church of Fontevraud.
Banners of battle o’er him hung,
And warriors slept beneath;
And light, as noon’s broad light, was flung
On the settled face of death.
On the settled face of death
A strong and ruddy glare,
Though dimm’d at times by the censer’s breath,
Yet it fell still brightest there: