Classic Poem

To sue and lose, his knightly soul might bear;
But insult galled him sore.
Should he imbrue
His puissant sword in her own father's gore?
That were to do a deed he e'er must rue;
Unfit it for a place in his Walhalla there.

No, better far to don the holy cross,
As valiant knight became;
Then if he fell,
He would at least have saved his honoured name;
Could say with life's last flitting breath--"'Tis well,
For so to live or die, to me were gain, not loss."

Yet spite of all, one parting word and kiss,
From dear Rowena's lips.--
May be the last!
God knows. That when his life felt death's eclipse,
Her angel-presence would its brightness cast
And dissipate its gloom. O thus to die were bliss!