Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/172

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 * Soon she unclasped the volume once again,

And read the words in tone of agony, As in self-torture, weeping as she read: "He crowns the glory of his race; He prayeth but in some fair place To meet his foeman face to face;

"And battling for the true, the right, From ruddy dawn to purple night, To perish in the midmost fight;

"Where foes are fierce and weapons strong, Where roars the battle loud and long, Where blood is dropping in the throng.

"Still with a dim and glazing eye To watch the tide of victory, To hear in death the battle-cry.