A Legend of Old Persia and Other Poems

by A. B. S. Tennyson

Naught could restore lost courage to his eyes,

The Knightly ardour that he used to feel,

Or make his heart the seat of high emprise,

Or nerve his hand to grasp the shining steel.

Whether she kept him fast by her enchantment,

Or drove him forth to roam death-pale and weeping,

Naught could remind him what his life's fair grant meant,

Now that his soul was in Hegertha's keeping.

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The Dreamer.