Glowed, instant-embered, as one oft may see
A star blaze up in heaven, then cease to be.
Slow from his visage he his visor raised,
And on the dying knight a moment gazed;
Then grimly said, "Look on me, Accolon!
I am thy King!" He, with an awful groan,
Blade-battered as he was, beheld and knew;
Strained to his tottering knees; and, gasping, drew
Up full his armored height and hoarsely cried,
"The King!" and at his mailed feet crashed and died.