Back with the dust of her son she came,
When her voice had kindled that lightning flame;
She came in the might of a queenly foe,
Banner, and javelin, and bended bow;
But a deeper power on her forehead sate—
There sought the warrior his star of fate:
Her eye’s wild flash through the tented line
Was hail’d as a spirit and a sign,
And the faintest tone from her lip was caught
As a sibyl’s breath of prophetic thought.