In Paris, and left Hildebert with me:
Then pressed on Tournai, after Hilperik,
Who fled before him on to Vitry, where
His nobles left him, laying down their arms,
Crying aloud: ‘Lo, we are spent with wars,
Let Sigebert be King of all the Franks.’
So the news came to me one warm eve when,
As the sun dropped behind the western hills,
I watched the bright stars one by one grow clear
In the green lingering of the faded light,