Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/196

 Fair the war-time was when still, as beacon answering beacon, Sea to land flashed fight, and thundered note of wrath or cheer; But the strength of noonday night hath power to waste and weaken, Nor may light be passed from hand to hand of year to year If the dying deed be saved not, ere it die for ever, By the hands and lips of men more wise than years are strong; If the soul of man take heed not that the deed die never, Clothed about with purple and gold of story, crowned with song. Still the burning heart of boy and man alike rejoices, Hearing words which made it seem of old for all who sang That their heaven of heavens waxed happier when from free men’s voices Well-beloved Harmodius and Aristogeiton rang. Never fell such fragrance from the flower-month’s rose-red kirtle As from chaplets on the bright friends’ brows who slew their lord: Greener grew the leaf and balmier blew the flower of myrtle When its blossom sheathed the sheer tyrannicidal sword.