| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| The Death of Marlborough |
| | | George Walter Thornbury (1828–76) |
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| THE SUN shines on the chamber wall, | |
| The sun shines through the tree, | |
| Now, though unshaken by the wind, | |
| The leaves fall ceaselessly; | |
| The bells from Woodstock’s steeple | 5 |
| Shake Blenheim’s fading bough. | |
| “This day you won Malplaquet,”— | |
| “Aye, something then, but now!” | |
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| They lead the old man to a chair, | |
| Wandering, pale and weak; | 10 |
| His thin lips move—so faint the sound | |
| You scarce can hear him speak. | |
| They lift a picture from the wall, | |
| Bold eyes and swelling brow; | |
| “The day you won Malplaquet,”— | 15 |
| “Aye, something then, but now!” | |
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| They reach him down a rusty sword, | |
| In faded velvet sheath: | |
| The old man drops the heavy blade, | |
| And mutters ’tween his teeth; | 20 |
| There ’s sorrow in his fading eye, | |
| And pain upon his brow; | |
| “With this you won Malplaquet,”— | |
| “Aye, something then, but now!” | |
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| Another year, a stream of lights | 25 |
| Flows down the avenue; | |
| A mile of mourners, sable clad, | |
| Walk weeping two by two; | |
| The steward looks into the grave | |
| With sad and downcast brow: | 30 |
| “This day he won Malplaquet,— | |
| Aye, something then, but now!” | |
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