To sight that followed far.
Till, last, the fluctuant wood the flash did whelm,
That flood-like rolled in light and shadow o’er his helm.
IX.
I know not more: nor if that helm did rust
In weed of some drear wilderness down-thrust,
Where in the watches lone
Heaven’s host beheld him lying overthrown,
While God yet judged him victor, God whose laws
Note not the event of battle, but the cause.