Ah then, who sinks to sleep away,
In tent, or galley scarlet-prowed,
Nor doubts some deed he did to-day?
That taunt was harsh, that boast was loud.
How failed his eyes to recognize
The god behind the foeman bold?
Why gave he, under friendship’s guise,
That mail of brass for mail of gold?
Oh, is there one, of either host,
Who never, sighing, weighs his cause