Page:Lost Galleon (1867).djvu/64

62 "Enough! I know that clarion voice;

I know that gleaming eye and helm—

Those crimson lips—their dew that blends

The best blood of the realm.

"The young, the brave, the good and wise,

Have fallen in thy curst embrace.

The juices of the grapes of wrath

Still stain thy guilty face.

"My brother lies in yonder field,

Face downward to the quiet grass.

Go back! he cannot see thee now;

But here thou shalt not pass."

A crack upon the evening air,

A wakened echo from the hill;

The watch-dog on the distant shore

Gives mouth—and all is still.

The sentry with his brother lies

Face downward on the quiet grass,

And by him, in the pale moonshine,

A shadow seems to pass.