She bow’d down o’er many a shatter’d breast,
She lifted up helmet and cloven crest—
Not there, not there he lay!
“Lead where the most hath been dared and done,
Where the heart of the battle hath bled,—lead on!”
And the vassal took the way.
He turn’d to a dark and lonely tree
That waved o’er a fountain red:
Oh! swiftest there had the currents free
From noble veins been shed.