I stood an alien. On the very floor
Which oft had trembled to my boyish mirth,
The love that rear’d me knew my face no more!
There hung the antique armour, helm and crest,
Whose every stain woke childhood in my breast;
There droop’d the banner, with the marks it bore
Of Paynim spears; and I, the worn in frame
And heart, what there was I?—another and the same!
XXVI.
Then bounded in a boy, with clear, dark eye—