from The Princess: Thy Voice is Heard

Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
      That beat to battle where he stands;
Thy face across his fancy comes,
      And gives the battle to his hands:
A moment, while the trumpets blow,
      He sees his brood about thy knee;
The next, like fire he meets the foe,
      And strikes him dead for thine and thee.
More Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson