To turn the tide of that disastrous fight,
But not to rescue him. We bore him thence
Wounded, upon his shield——
Aym. And I was here!
Rai. He cast one look back on his burning towers,
Then threw the red sword of a hundred fields
To the earth—and hid his face! I knew, I knew
His heart was broken! Such a death for him!
—The wasting—the sick loathing of the sun—
Let the foe’s charger trample out my life,