To seek the field where they might bravely die?
And where was he, at whose beloved side
Thousands had rushed to fall? He who defied
The haughty Saracen, and came to free
The holy shrine from heathen mockery—
Their leader and their king? Alas! no more
His hand shall wield the sceptre, or before
His mailed bands, lead on in victory’s way:—
Pale, haggard, motionless, the monarch lay
Upon his couch, while mournful round him stood