Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/170

There was one, a leader crown’d,
    And arm'd for Greece that day;
But the falchions made no sound
    On his gleaming war-array.
In the battle's front he stood,
    With his tall and shadowy crest;
But the arrows drew no blood
    Though their path was through his breast.

His sword was seen to flash
    Where the boldest deeds were done;
But it smote without a clash;
    The stroke was heard by none!
His voice was not of those
    That swell'd the rolling blast,
And his steps fell hush'd like snows—
    'Twas the Shade of Theseus pass’d!