Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/397



I, without offending, choose The death that I would die, I'd fall, as erst the Templar fell, Aneath a Syrian sky.

Upon a glorious plain of war, The banners floating fair, My lance and fluttering pennoncel Should marshal heroes there!

Upon the solemn battle-eve, With prayer to be forgiven, I'd arm me for a righteous fight, Imploring peace of Heaven!

High o'er the thunders of the charge Should wave my sable plume, And where the day was lost or won, There should they place my tomb!