Once more towards them the tide of battle swept;
Christine moved not. Young Philip on her cried,
And strove, in vain, to draw her safe aside.
A random shaft in her unshielded breast--
Though hot to stay its course her brother leapt--
Struck quivering, and she slowly sank to rest.
VI.
Queen Hild sat weaving in her garden-close,
When on her startled ear there fell the news
Of Christine's flight before the darkling dews