Chapter XI

Now scattered wide and lost to loving sight
The gallant train
That heard thy strain;
’Tis May no longer,—shadows of the night
Beset the downward pathway; thou art gone,
And with thee vanished that perpetual dawn
Of which thou wert the harbinger and seer.
Yet courage! comrades,—though no more we hear
Each other’s voices, lost within this cloud
That time and chance about our way have cast,
Still his brave music haunts the hearkening ear,
As ’mid bold cliffs and dewy passes of the Past.
Be that our countersign! for chanting loud
His magic song, though far apart we go,
Best shall we thus discern both friend and foe.

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