Gave back the sabre’s clang.
They stood around her—steel-clad men,
Moulded for storm and fight,
But they quail’d before the loftier soul
In that pale aspect bright.
Yes! as before the falcon shrinks
The bird of meaner wing,
So shrank they from th’ imperial glance
Of her—that fragile thing!
And her flute-like voice rose clear and high