174
SONGS, LEGENDS, AND BALLADS.
And watched the glimmering stars above,—so quiet did they seem,—
And all that dreadful field appeared like some wild, fearful dream.
But memory soon came back again, and cleared my wandering brain,
And then from every joint and limb shot fiery darts of pain.
My throat was parched, the burning thirst increased with every breath;
I made no effort to arise, but wished and prayed for death.
My bridle arm was broken, and lay throbbing on the sward,
But something still my right hand grasped: I thought it was my sword.
I raised my hand to cast it off,—no reeking blade was there;
Then life and strength returned,—I held the Standard of the Square!
With bounding heart I gained my feet. Oh I thee I wished to live,
