Was still most prompt the conquered foe to save?
All his—the young—the beautiful—the brave!
He who had lightly held that slender hand,
Would scarce have scorned it when it grasped the brand;
And he who marked at rest that eye and cheek,
In war so wild, in peace so soft and meek,
Might well have wondered whence the spirit rose,
So dear to friends—so terrible to foes!
IV.
He came—they knew not whence—nor much they cared;