Save a voiceless wail, save a cry of woe,
That burst forth in fitful throbbing—
A bullet had pierced its metal through,
For the Dead the wounded was sobbing!
For the faithful, the brave, for our brethren all,
For the Watch on the Rhine, true-hearted!
Oh, the sound cut into our inmost soul!—
It brokenly wailed the Departed!
And now fell the night, and we galloped past,
Watch-fires were flaring and flying,
Our chargers snorted, the rain poured fast—
And we thought of the Dead and the Dying!
* * * * *
MORITZ GRAF VON STRACHWITZ
DOUGLAS OF THE BLEEDING HEART[48] (1842)
Earl Douglas, don thy helm so bright,
And buckle thy sword with speed,
Bind on thy sharpest spurs to-night
And saddle thy swiftest steed!
"The death watch ticks in the hall of Scone,
All Scotland hears its warning,
King Robert in pains of death does groan,
He'll never see the morning."
For nigh on forty miles they sped
And spoke of words not four,
And horse and spur with blood were red
When they came to the palace door.
King Robert lay at the north tower's turn;
With death he'd begun to battle:
"I hear the sword of Bannockburn
On the stairway clatter and rattle.