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Page 198 - Which he kept for battle and days of need ; (Oh! ride as though you were flying!) Spurs were struck in the foaming flank ; Worn-out chargers staggered and sank ; Bridles were slackened and girths were burst ; But ride as they would, the king rode first, For his rose of the isles lay dying ! His nobles are beaten, one by one ; (Hurry!) They...
Page 199 - His nobles are beaten, one by one; (Hurry!) They have .fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; His little fair page now follows alone, For strength and for courage trying! The king looked back at that faithful child; Wan was the face that answering smiled...
Page 180 - IN the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet's rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges.
Page 199 - None welcomed the king from that weary ride ! For dead, in the light of the dawning day, The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay, Who had yearned for his voice while dying ! The panting steed, with a drooping crest, Stood weary.
Page 62 - MANY a year is in its grave, Since I crossed this restless wave ; And the evening, fair as ever, Shines on ruin, rock, and river. " Then, in this same boat, beside, Sat two comrades old and tried ; One with all a father's truth, One with all the fire of youth. " One on earth in silence wrought, And his grave in silence sought ; But the younger, brighter form Passed in battle and in storm !
Page 198 - Which he kept for battle and days of need. (Oh, ride as though you were flying!) Spurs were struck in the foaming flank; Worn-out chargers staggered and sank; Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst; But ride as they would, the king rode first, For his rose of the isles lay dying! His nobles are beaten, one by one; (Hurry!) They have fainted and faltered, and homeward gone: His little fair page now follows alone, For strength and for courage trying.
Page 198 - KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE WORD was brought to the Danish king (Hurry!) That the love of his heart lay suffering, And pined for the comfort his voice would bring; (O, ride as though you were flying!) Better he loves each golden curl On the brow of that Scandinavian girl Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl: And his rose of the isles is dying! Thirty nobles saddled with speed; (Hurry!) Each one mounting a gallant steed Which he kept for battle and days...