6. Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed; but who could paint that gaze!
They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze:
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood;
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.
7. “Father!” at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then—
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!—
He thought on all his glorious hopes, on all his young renown:
Then flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down;
8. And covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,
“No more, there is no more,” he said, “to lift the sword for now: