And, guest invisible, upon his face
Hovered a faint and transitory smile,
Like lightning which divides the morning cloud,
Boding at once the sunrise and the thunder.
The Master’s zeal, his threatening countenance,
All hearts with hope and newer courage fills;
Battle before them they behold and plunder,
And pour in thought great floods of pagan blood.
Who shall against such ruler dare to stand?
Who will not fear his sabre or his glance?