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He did not arm, he walked aloof!
For why?—to save his Father’s Land;—
Worst Traitor of them all is he,
A Traitor dark and cowardly!”
“I am no Traitor,” Francis said,
“Though this unhappy freight I bear;
It weakens me, my heart hath bled
Till it is weak—but you beware,
Nor do a suffering Spirit wrong,
Whose self-reproaches are too strong!”
At this he from the beaten road
Retreated towards a brake of thorn,
Which like a place of ’vantage shewed;
And there stood bravely, though forlorn.
In self-defence with a Warrior's brow
He stood,—nor weaponless was now;
He from a Soldier's hand had snatched
A spear,—and with his eyes he watched
