THE night before the battle met
He sang the splendor of the fray,
Till all our legions, hard beset,
Took heart against another day.
He sang the thunder-swift attack,
The shock of shields, the overthrow;
The shout that roared the chorus back
Startled the camp-fires of the foe.
The harp’s hour passed. Dawn heard alone
The high heroic bugles’ cry;
But ere a blade had crossed his own
The singer turned his horse to fly.
They slew him as he fled the field;
But all day long the foe in vain
Shattered against our spearsmen steeled
With memory of his noble strain.
So half fell fouled into the snare,
And half sped splendid to the goal. —
What earthly tribune can declare
The doom of this divided soul ?