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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Not unpursued—
The Maid and her Ten Thousand followed fast.
That mystic sword rapt from St. Catherine's Church
Though borne before her in the battle's van
She wielded never. In her sword-hand flamed
The Oriflamme alone.
Each battle won clothed her with light as when
Miriam sole standing by the Red Sea raised
Her cymbal, singing, ‘The Lord hath triumphed.’
Oft o'er the noble dead she wept; yet laughed
To hear how Suffolk on the red grass lay
Wounded, and how above him towered Renaud:
‘Art thou a knight?’ the old warrior made demand:
Renaud replied, ‘Not yet.’ Then Suffolk laid
On the young man's shoulder knighthood with his blade
And said, ‘Your prisoner, Sir.’ She heard, and cried
‘Brave man and true! God grant him speedy ransom!
All good men should be friends!’
The Maid and her Ten Thousand followed fast.
343
Though borne before her in the battle's van
She wielded never. In her sword-hand flamed
The Oriflamme alone.
Each battle won clothed her with light as when
Miriam sole standing by the Red Sea raised
Her cymbal, singing, ‘The Lord hath triumphed.’
Oft o'er the noble dead she wept; yet laughed
To hear how Suffolk on the red grass lay
Wounded, and how above him towered Renaud:
‘Art thou a knight?’ the old warrior made demand:
Renaud replied, ‘Not yet.’ Then Suffolk laid
On the young man's shoulder knighthood with his blade
And said, ‘Your prisoner, Sir.’ She heard, and cried
‘Brave man and true! God grant him speedy ransom!
All good men should be friends!’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |