My Father, do I clasp your knees;
The Banner touch not, stay your hand,
This multitude of men disband,
And live at home in blameless[37] ease;
For these my brethren's sake, for me; 60
And, most of all, for Emily!"

Tumultuous noises filled the hall;[38]
And scarcely could the Father hear
That name--pronounced with a dying fall--[39][X]
The name of his only Daughter dear, 65
As on[40] the banner which stood near
He glanced a look of holy pride,
And his moist[41] eyes were glorified;
Then did he seize the staff, and say:[42]
"Thou, Richard, bear'st thy father's name, 70
Keep thou this ensign till the day
When I of thee require the same:
Thy place be on my better hand;--
And seven as true as thou, I see,
Will cleave to this good cause and me." 75
He spake, and eight brave sons straightway
All followed him, a gallant band!

Thus, with his sons, when forth he came
The sight was hailed with loud acclaim
And din of arms and minstrelsy,[43] 80
From all his warlike tenantry,
All horsed and harnessed with him to ride,--
A voice[44] to which the hills replied!

But Francis, in the vacant hall,
Stood silent under dreary weight,-- 85
A phantasm, in which roof and wall
Shook, tottered, swam before his sight;
A phantasm like a dream of night!
Thus overwhelmed, and desolate,
He found his way to a postern-gate; 90
And, when he waked, his languid eye[45]
Was on the calm and silent sky;
With air about him breathing sweet,
And earth's green grass beneath his feet;
Nor did he fail ere long to hear 95
A sound of military cheer,
Faint--but it reached that sheltered spot;
He heard, and it disturbed him not.

There stood he, leaning on a lance
Which he had grasped unknowingly, 100
Had blindly grasped in that strong trance,
That dimness of heart-agony;
There stood he, cleansed from the despair
And sorrow of his fruitless prayer.
The past he calmly hath reviewed: 105
But where will be the fortitude
Of this brave man, when he shall see
That Form beneath the spreading tree,
And know