Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/50

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A blessing after him was all My distant lip could send. Curse on the feeble arm that hung Then useless by my side! I lay before my tent and watch'd Onwards the warriors ride. he was first of all, Upon his foam-white steed; Never knight curb'd more gallantly A fiery courser's speed. His silver armour shone like light, In the young morning's ray; And around his helm the snowy plume Danced like the ocean spray. Sudden a bird burst through the air,— I knew his falcon's flight;