Funeral March of a Fallen Hero

Funeral March of a Fallen Hero

"Funeral March of a Fallen Hero" by Sheila Kaye-Smith is a lyric elegy in which the speaker mourns and denounces a former leader who once inspired her devotion but now lies in shame. Opening with a call to sound the trumpet and beat the drum, the speaker lays the purple of mourning on the fallen figure's breast while summoning her "shuddering memories" to salute him even as she bows to his disgrace, covering his face as she does so. The speaker recalls how this hero once led her soul to war, his cry going before her "fierce and far," calling her to triumph or die; she owes her very place to his sword, yet now she covers his face. She remembers his scorn for her fears, his exhortations to raise the banner, fight on, and follow him "through blood and tears" from darkness into light — memories of a time she strove after him eagerly, contrasted with her present act of covering his face. She confesses she dares not gaze into his eyes now, for fear of seeing mirrored there the same hungry despair and shame for his disgrace that burns in her own eyes. In her heart, she says, he lies in state: purple sorrow serves as his pall, and trumpets of doom and drums of fate sound his death-march, while on his livid brow rests a crown of withered bay and laurel — emblems of glory now decayed. At his head burn tall candles representing dying hopes; at his feet stands a brazen urn holding the ashes of her love's best part; at his side lies his own broken sword, symbol of his once-solemn word now failed. The speaker considers bringing dreams to adorn his funeral rites, laying them as an offering on his sorrowing heart, but reflects that this would spoil his stately bier, for her dreams, like him, are already dead. The poem closes as it began, with the call to sound the trumpet and beat the drum, to lay the purple upon his breast, to bow before his shame, and to perform each last funeral rite, granting him a royal resting-place — yet still, urgently, to cover up his face.

By Sheila Kaye-Smith · Genre: Elegy, Lyric Poetry, Narrative Poetry · 457 words

First lines

Sound the trumpet, beat the drum, / Lay the purple on his breast, / Let my shuddering memories come / To salute him in his rest, / To bow down to his disgrace, / While I cover up his face.

Once he led my soul to war, / And the thunder of his cry / Went before me, fierce and far, / Calling me to triumph or die; / To his sword I owe my place, / But I cover up his face.

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tragedy · drama · hero · death · mourning · funeral · loss · sorrow · reflection · historical · British literature · novel

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Funeral March of a Fallen Hero is listed on Textopian as a poem by Sheila Kaye-Smith, dated Date unknown.

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