186
THE TWO MONUMENTS.
Triumph yet linger'd in his eye,
Ere by the dark night seal'd,
And his head was pillow'd haughtily
On standard and on shield.
And shadowing that proud trophy pile
With the glory of his wing,
An eagle sat;—yet seem'd the while
Panting through Heaven to spring.
He sat upon a shiver'd lance,
There by the sculptor bound;
But in the light of his lifted glance
Was that which scorn'd the ground.
And a burning flood of gem-like hues
From a storied window pour'd,
There fell, there centred, to suffuse
The conqueror and his sword.
