Poetry Archives

Galahads, Galahads, Percivals, gallop!
Bayards, to the saddle!—the clangorous trumpets,
Hoarse with their ecstasy, call to the mellay.
Paladins, Paladins, Rolands flame-hearted,
Olivers, Olivers, follow the bugles!

Girt with the glory and glamor of power,
Error sits throned in the high place of justice;
Paladins, Paladins, youth noble-hearted,
Saddle and spear, for the battle-flags beckon!
Thrust the keen steel through the throat of the liar.

Star (or San Grael) that illumines thy pathway,
Follow it, follow that far Ideal!—
Thine not the guerdon to gain it or grasp it;
Soul of thee, passing, ascendeth unto it,
Augmenting its brightness for them that come after.

Heed then the call of the trumpets, the trumpets,
Hoarse with the fervor, the frenzy of battle,—
Paladins, Paladins, saddle! to saddle!
Bide not, abide not, God’s bugles are calling!—
Thrust the sharp sword through the heart of the liar.