DEATH AND THE WARRIOR.
“Ay, warrior, arm! and wear thy plume
On a proud and fearless brow!
I am the lord of the lonely tomb,
And a mightier one than thou!
“Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief—
Bid her a long farewell!
Like the morning's dew shall pass that grief—
Thou comest with me to dwell!
“Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep
Thy steed o'er the breezy hill;
But they bear thee on to a place of sleep,
Narrow, and cold, and chill!”
“Was the voice I heard, thy voice, oh Death!
And is thy day so near?
Then on the field shall my life's last breath
Mingle with victory's cheer!
“Banners shall float, with the trumpet's note,
Above me as I die!
And the palm-tree wave o'er my noble grave,
Under the Syrian sky.
“High hearts shall burn in the royal hall,
When the minstrel names that spot;
And the eyes I love shall weep my fall,—
Death, Death, I fear thee not!”
“Warrior! thou bear'st a haughty heart,
But I can bend its pride!
How should'st thou know that thy soul will part
In the hour of victory's tide?
“It may be far from thy steel-clad bands,
That I shall make thee mine;
It may be lone on the desert sands,
Where men for fountains pine!
“It may be deep amidst heavy chains,
In some deep Paynim hold;—
I have slow dull steps and lingering pains,
Wherewith to tame the bold!”
“Death, Death! I go to a doom unblest,
If this indeed must be;
But the Cross is bound upon my breast,
And I may not shrink for thee!
“Sound, clarion, sound!—for my vows are given
To the cause of the holy shrine;
I bow my soul to the will of Heaven,
Oh Death!—and not to thine!”
