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

He eyed Vaumond on the battle's verge,
A flagging few to the combat urge;
Then, thro' the slaying and the slain,
Mowing his way, he strode amain,
Through the hot ploughshares of the fray,
In the high ordeal of the day;
His bassnett through its circuit raz'd,
Resounding still the wandering shield,—
Till full on his proud foe he gaz'd,
The traitor on his sight reveal'd.
“Now turn thee—craven renegade!”—
No further challenge was there said—
Quick from his Afric barb hath lit
The Baron bold his foe to meet:—
—“Now with my blood thy vengeance slake—
No odds to combat man I take—
And parle and priestcraft all aside,
Knight—let our feud at last be tried.”—
Even as he spake, his foeman's steel
Swung imminent in its flaming wheel

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Above his head—but its descent
Its fury on the keen edge spent,
Where, planted in his stounde unchang'd,
The Baron's eye o'er Lodowick rang'd.
He mark'd not the faulchion's wanderings
As round him flash'd its curvetings;
In his foeman's eye he could detect
Where'er the stroke he would direct;
His eye the planet his course that show'd,
When wrath th' ascendant's monarch rode.