Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, <br /> That beat to battle where he stands; <br /> Thy face across his fancy comes, <br /> And gives the battle to his hands: <br /> A moment, while the trumpets blow, <br /> He sees his brood about thy knee; <br /> The next, like fire he meets the foe, <br /> And strikes him dead for thine and thee.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-princess-a-medley-thy-voice-is-heard/
