Literary Gazette, 10th April, 1824, Page 236
THE KNIGHT.[1]
Farewell to thee, dearest! my banner is playing
Like a meteor of blood on the gale;
Impatient for battle, my white steed is neighing,
And the trumpet tells loud its war tale.
This brand must be red ere I meet thee again,
Or it would not be worthy of thee;
Oh, daughter of heroes, whose name has no stain,
How gallant my bearing must be!
Around us the walls of our ancient hall wear
The pictures of warriors of yore:
They look on me now! by each dark brow I swear,
I will equal, or see them no more,
The scarf thou hast bound must be dyed in the field—
My plume must be first in the line,
When the valiant shall fall, and the coward shall yield,
Oh, then I may claim Thee as mine!
- ↑ Signature after later poem
