As lightning through a forest; and his plume
Waved like a torch above the battle-storm,
The soldier’s guide, when princely crests had sunk,
And banners were struck down. Around my steps
Floated his fame, like music, and I lived
But in the lofty sound. But when my heart
In one frail ark had ventured all, when most
He seem’d to stand between my soul and heaven,
—Then came the thunder-stroke!
Elm. ’Tis ever thus!