232 TENNYSON
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will.
'Shoot, if you must, this old grey head, But spare your country's flag,' she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word:
'Who touches a hair of yon grey head Dies like a dog ! March on ! ' he said.
All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet :
All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Whittier.
XCIV
A BALLAD OF THE FLEET
AT Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from far away :
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