Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.
XVI.
“Now, yield thee, or by Him who made
The world, thy heart’s blood dyes my blade!”—
“Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!
Let recreant yield, who fears to die.”
—Like adder darting from his coil,
Like wolf that dashes through the toil,
Like mountain cat who guards her young,
Full at Fitz-James’s throat he sprung;