He deigned not raise the sword in their defence;
All day with folded arms upon his breast,
In thought remaining, or discourse with Halban.
Meanwhile the winter piled its heaps of snow,
And Witold, with his fresh recruited bands,
Besieged the army, fell upon the camp.
Oh! shame in annals of the valiant Order!
The Master first did fly the battle-field!
In place of laurels, and abundant spoil,
He brought the news of Litwa’s victories!