Page:Friendship's Offering 1844.pdf/2



white plume was upon his head, The spur upon his heel, The trumpet rang upon his ear With a note the dead might feel. Before him lay a gallant host, His own, his bannered line, Where from a thousand silver shields Flashed back the morning's shine. He sat upon his raven steed As a proud ship curbs the deep; One instant yet he reined his horse— He heard his lady weep. "What, weepest thou, lady mine!" he said, "And thou a soldier's bride! Dearer should be his fame than aught    In the whole world beside." "Away!" she cried; "these are not tears    That fall for thee or me— I weep our infant boy, too young     To fight or follow thee!"