Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/170

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There was one, a leader crown’d, And arm'd for Greece that day; But the falchions made no sound On his gleaming war-array. In the battle's front he stood, With his tall and shadowy crest; But the arrows drew no blood Though their path was through his breast.

His sword was seen to flash Where the boldest deeds were done; But it smote without a clash; The stroke was heard by none! His voice was not of those That swell'd the rolling blast, And his steps fell hush'd like snows— 'Twas the Shade of Theseus pass’d!