Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/280

And proudly reared on hostile tower,
'Midst falchion-clash, and arrowy shower,
    Britannia's banner high!
And though some ancient feud had taught
    His Bertha's sire to loathe his name,
More noble warrior never fought,
    For glory's prize, or England's fame.
And well his dark, commanding eye,
    And form and step of stately grace,
Accorded with achievements high,
Soul of emprize and chivalry,
    Bright name, and generous race!
His cheek, embrowned by many a sun,
Tells a proud tale of glory won,
Of vigil, march, and combat rude,
Valour, and toil, and fortitude!
E'en while youth's earliest blushes threw
Warm o'er that cheek, their vivid hue,
His gallant soul, his stripling-form,
Had braved the battle's rudest storm;