Pyrene’s won! Upon the tallest crest
Did Nial, Morton mark with fond embrace
The crowning victory. Why together rest
Their eyes, the mist now melted, on that place
Beneath? Ye Powers! It is great Arthur’s face.
The flying French have eyed him too where o’er
His mountain charts, and plans of war the base,
With escort small intently he doth pore,
And none suspects the prize the foemen swift explore.
XXXV.