II.

No more the battle fires my blood, Angelica! No more gay lists flaunt all their guiles, And chivalry's charge, and beauty's smiles! I wander lone the thistly wold When night-snows fall, And crispy frosts the wild grass hold. Great knights go glimmering thro' the wood, The clarion's call Wakes War upon his desert wold-- I see the dawning breaking cold, Angelica!