Where are thy men-at-arms, they, once who moved
So lively at the warlike trumpet’s call?
And where their chiefs, thy mareschals all,
Heroes in many a glorious battle proved?—
In stern repose each warrior lies.
As flowers that all the darksome night
Close themselves up, until the day-star rise,
Then ope, and turn, as worshipping his light:
So these, in sullen slumber now reclined,
May soon awake, when thou shalt find