Poems (Eliza Gabriella Lewis)/Death and the Warrior

by Eliza Gabriella Lewis

DEATH AND THE WARRIOR.

Away to the battle—the foe onward pour—
Away, my fleet courser, I ne'er needed more
Thy speed and thy courage—on, on to the fight;
One glance, at the onset, were worth a whole life.

"Oh! stay thy fleet steed," said a voice in his ear,
"A foe is approaching—his footsteps are near;
Not low on the gory-stained field thou wilt lie;
Oh, warrior, prepare thee! this moment thou'lt die,"

The warrior he started—and, lo! at his side,
In loose sable garment, a horseman did ride;
No weapon displayed he—no word did he speak,
Yet the red color blanched on the warrior's cheek.

His eyes on the knight he so steadily turned,
Like bright glowing coals, in their sockets they burn'd;
Oh! he who could gaze, undismayed, on their gleam,
Was a warrior in feeling and bearing, I deem.

Then answered the knight:—"So help me, St. Bride!
Whilst my lance, still unbroken, I bear by my side;
My helmet and shield to no foe will I yield,
Whilst my heart breathes a gasp on the bloodstained field."

The warrior hath spoken, and calmly he gazed,
While the sable-clothed horseman his hand slowly raised;
"Not low on the gory-stained field thou wilt lie;
Oh, warrior, prepare thee! this moment thou'lt die."

"And must it be so, then? Death, art thou so near?
I shun thee not—phantoms the coward may fear;
'Mid the battle I hoped to have breathed my last sigh;
Now farewell, my country—farewell, ye bright sky."

Lo! his helmet and shield in the dust they are strown,
His fleet steed afar o'er the wide plain hath flown;
The phantom he vanished in darkness and gloom,
And they bear the cold corse of the knight to the tomb.