War's greatness is not greatest; there are heights
Of splendour pure mere warriors scarce may scale,
But thou wert more than battle's scourge and flail,
Calm-souled controller of such Titan fights
As mould man's after-history. When thy star
Shone clear at Koniggrätz, men gazed and knew
The light that heralds the great Lords of War;
And when o'er Sedan thy black Eagles flew
And the bold Frank, betrayed and broken, drew
One shuddering gasp of agony and sank,