fight! said the leader. stand and fight!

how dare you yield!

what is the pain of the bitter blows,

the ache and sting and the blood that flows,

to a losing field!

yea, said they, you may stand and fight;

we needs must yield!

what is the danger and pain to you,

when every blow falls fair and true

on your magic shield?

the magical cuirass over your breast,

leather and steel,

guarded like that, of course you dare

to meet the storm of battle there—

but we can feel!

19the leader fell where he fought alone.

see the lifeblood start

where one more blow has pierced too far,

through a bosom hardened with scar on scar,—

the only shield, the only bar,

for that great heart!