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Laid him in the grand cathedral That he built in other years;Poured upon him the oblation Of his people's bitter tears.When the sacred rites were ended, And the last requiem sung—When the great bell in the tower Its last solemn note had rung,Then with tender hands we laid him In his deep and narrow bed;Near his own shrine of "Our Lady," Rests his noble, saintly head.
And the sunlight through the window Cast a shining, golden wave,That fell brightly on the casket— Played about the open grave,As though the angels, bending Softly downward through the gloom,Poured the very light of heaven In the darkness of his tomb.And he lies there in his slumber, Undisturbed by sound or breath;Victor even in surrender, Proudly conqueror in death.
