Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1837.pdf/57

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leads them on, the chief, the knight; Dark is his eye with fierce delight, A calm and unrelenting joy, Whose element is to destroy.

Down falls his soft and shining hair, His face is as woman’s fair; And that slight frame seems rather meant For lady’s bower than soldier’s tent.

But on that kindled brow is wrought The energy that is of thought, The sternness and the strength that grow In the high heart that beats below.

The golden spur is on his heel, The spur his war-horse does not feel; The sun alone has gilt the brand, Now bared in his unsparing hand.

But ere the sun go down again That sword will wear a deeper stain; Sun and sword alike will go Down o’er the dying and the foe.

Never yet hath failed that brand, Never yet hath spared that hand; Where their mingled light is shed, Are the fugitive or dead.

Though the grave were on his way, Forward, would that soldier say; And upon his latest breath Would be, "Victory or Death."