Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1827.pdf/7



sat in silence on the ground, The old and haughty Czar; Lonely, though princes girt him round, And leaders of the war: He had cast his jewelled sabre, That many a field had won To the earth beside his youthful dead, His fair and first-born son.

With a robe of ermine for its bed, Was laid that form of clay, Where the light a stormy sunset shed, Through the rich tent made way: