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Thy brow is his, and thou wilt wield A sword like his in battle-field. Let the day break, and thou shalt ride Another by my side; And thou shalt win and I confer, To-morrow, knightly brand and spur."

With thoughts of pride, and thoughts of grief, Sat by that stranger chief, So proud to hear his father's fame, So sad to hear that father's name, And then to think that he had known That father by his name alone; And aye his heart within him burn'd When his eye to turn'd,