Closed, in a Tyrant’s dungeon cell,
Wear out the remnant of my life?
And never hear again, the swell
Of high and hot and glorious strife
Where trumpet’s peal, and bugles sing,
And minstrels sweep the martial string,
And war, and fame are rife.
No Blondel! thou wert sent by heaven,
Thy King, thy Lion-King to free,
To thee, the high command was given