Wellington's Funeral (Beinecke Library cancelled fair copy) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 © Yale University, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library At Wellington's Funeral 18th November, 1852 Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1852 fair copy 4 pages DGR Beinecke Library unruled white laid paper Commentary
Introduction

This is the earlier of the two surviving manuscripts and, as WMR's accompanying note indicates, one of the few manuscripts that were originallypart of the manuscript inhumed in his wife's grave by DGR. DGR crossed it through, presumably, after he had copied this text. The copy he made from this document is at the Lilly Library.

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

The note here is by WMR.

This is one of the various M.S.S. by my Brother which he buried in 1862 in the coffin of his wife, & which were recovered thence in 1869

W. M. Rossetti

 The note here is by WMR.

This is my brother's own M.S. of his poem on Wellington's Funeral. The writing is probably nearly contemporaneous with the date when the poem was composed, towards the end of 1852. The M.S. came into my hands with other papers at the date April 1882, of my brother's death.

W. M. Rossetti October 1888

 The text is crossed through by DGR on this page and all the subsequent pages. At Wellington's Funeral<lb/>18<hi rend="sup">th November</hi> 1852 “Victory!” So once more the cry must be. Duteous mourning we fulfil In God's Name; but by God's will, Doubt not, the last word is still “Victory!” Funeral, In the music round this pall, Solemn grief yields earth to earth; But what tones of solemn mirth In the pageant of new birth Rise and fall? For indeed, If our eyes were opened, Who shall say what escort floats Here, which breath nor gleam denotes,— Fiery horses, chariots Fire-footed? Trumpeter, Even thy call he may not hear; Long-known voice for ever past, Till with one more trumpet-blast God's assuring word at last Reach his ear. Multitude, Hold your breath in reverent mood: For while earth's whole kindred stand Mute even thus on either hand, This soul's labour shall be scann'd And found good. Cherubim, Lift ye not even now your hymn? Lo! once lent for human lack, Michael's sword is rendered back. Thrills not now the starry track, Seraphim? Gabriel, Since the Gift of thine “All hail!” Out of Heaven no time hath brought The damage at the top of the manuscript has destroyed the document so that the word “fuller” is partly obliterated; its missing characters are editorially supplied. Gift with fu[ller] blessing fraught Than the peace which this man wrought Passing well. Be no word Raised of bloodshed Christ-abhorr'd. Say: 'Twas thus in His decrees Who Himself, the Prince of Peace, For His harvest's ripe increase Sent a sword. Veterans, He by whom the neck of France Then was given unto your heel, Timely sought, may lend as well To your sons his terrible Countenance. Waterloo! As the last grave must renew, Ere fresh death, the banshee-strain,— So methinks upon thy plain Falls some presage in the rain, In the dew. And O thou, Watching still, with angry brow Unappeased, o'er death's dumb flood:— Lo! the saving strength of God In some new heart's English blood Slumbers now. Emperor, Is this all thy work was for?— Thus to see thy self-sought aim, Yea thy titles, yea thy name, In another's shame, to shame Bandied o'er? Wellington, Thy great work is but begun. With quick seed his end is rife Whose long tale of conquering strife Shows no triumph like his life Lost and won.