Take knighthood from thy father's sword, before his course be run,—
Be valiant, fortunate, and true; acquit thee as my son!
My harper here?—ere life depart, strike me some warlike strain;
Some song of my own battle-field I would hear once more again:
Unfurl the silken Sunburst[6] in the noontide's golden shine,
In death, even as in pride of life, let it wave o'er Geraldine!"
VII.
The banner fluttered in the breeze, the harper's strain went on,
A song it was of mighty deeds by the dying Chieftain done.
At first he listened calmly,—the strain grew bold and strong,—