THE FALCON.
45
I follow'd, such was its strange power,
Its circuit through the air.
It led me on,—before my path
The tangled branches yield;
It led me on till we had gain'd
The morning's battle-field.
The fallen confused, and numberless!
"O grief! it is in vain,
My own beloved friend, to seek
For thee amid the slain."
Yet paused the falcon, where heap'd dead
Spoke thickest of the fray;
There, compass'd by a hostile ring,
Its noble master lay.
None of his band were near, around
Were only foes o'erthrown;
