Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 1 (October 1912-March 1913).djvu/96

POETRY: He has bowed to the voice stentorian,
 * Sick with thought of the grave—

He has called for his battered morion
 * And his scarred glaive.

On the boy's helm a glove
 * Of the Duke's daughter—

In his eyes splendor of love
 * And slaughter.

Hideous the Hun advances
 * Like a sea-tide on sand;

Unyielding, the haughty lances
 * Make dauntless stand.

And ever amid the clangor,
 * Butchering Hun and Hun,

With sorrowful face rides Sangar
 * And his son

Broken is the wild invader
 * (Sullied, the whole world's fountains);

They have penned the murderous raider
 * With his back to the mountains.

Yet tho' what had been mead
 * Is now a bloody lake,

Still drink swords where men bleed,
 * Nor slake.