Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/81

No!—by yon golden orb which rolls
    In splendour through the air,
If honour's death this day be thine,
    That holy death I'll share."

They arm'd them for the battle-field,
    Their blood was boiling high,
Forgot were danger, love, and wo,
    In that proud ecstacy;—

Forgot was she, whose hand alone
    Could give their hope its meed,
Forgot was all in earth or heaven
    Save their dear country's need.

Their rushing legions like the surge
    When tempests lash the main,
With thundering shout and revelry
    Spread o'er the fatal plain.

Forth came the cavalry of Gaul,
    With glittering lance and spur,
Led on by warlike Constantine,
    That christian Emperor.

With cloud of darts, and clash of swords,
    They greet the early sun,
And when his western gate he sought
    The conflict scarce was done.—

But sober twilight's mantle gray
    Enwrapt a silent plain,
Save where from wounded bosoms burst
    The lingering groan of pain.