He braved its wrath with head erect and proud.
He was not taken, but walled in with foes,
He hated them with hate the vanquished knows,
He would have shot them all had he the power.
“Kill him—he’s fired upon us for an hour!”
“Down with the murderer—down with the spy!”
And suddenly a small voice made reply,
“No—no, he is my father!” And a ray
Like a sunbeam seemed to light the day.
A child appeared, a boy with golden hair,