SONG.
He goes away to a far distant land,
With cross on his shoulder and lance in his hand;
And news soon comes how his lightning brand
Has scattered the hosts of paninrie.
His beautiful Lady sits weeping and lone,
And wishes she were where her Knight has gone;
But she grieves not his absence with angry moan,
For her spirit is full of his chivalry.
But what are the tidings come next to her ear?
Oh! tidings dark and heavy to hear;
How her fearless warrior, her husband dear,
Has fallen 'neath the lance of the Moslema.
How, gallantly staking his life, to save
From infidel hands, the Redeemer's grave,
He has fought for the righteous and sleeps with the brave,
'Neath the walls of Hierosolima!
'Tis true, oh, 'tis true!--yet she will not believe,
"Ah, no! e'en in dying he would not deceive;
And he promised, if spirit such power could receive,