The bridal of Vaumond :: :: University of Virginia Library

The sun walks high in his pilgrimage,
He smiles at the wars that mortals wage,
And laughing, shakes his golden hair,
While battle drives uncheck'd his share;—
Onward in his slippery course
Plunging, tears the gory horse,
Where vassal, knight, and bandit spread,
Lie swelter'd in their common bed.

165

And where was Lodowick? where'er
The strife wax'd fiercest, he was there;
His charger slain, on foot he fought,
And still his foe thro' the battle sought;
But morn had wan'd away, and yet
Th' apostate traitor he had not met;
Tho' he saw his crest careering proud,
And heard his bugle, shrill and loud,—
He was borne away by the surging crowd.