Where floats the standard o'er the tented plain,
His lonely watch the minstrel knight is keeping,
And thus beguiles the time with tuneful strain,
His silver lute with mailed finger sweeping,
The lady of my love I do not name,
I dare not hope my love can be requited;
Yet I will fight for liberty and fame,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted.
The night is gone, the battle comes with day,--
Behold the bard, surrounding foes defying;
Red carnage marks his presence in the fray,
While still he sings, amid the dead and dying,
The lady of my love I may not name,
I dare not hope my love can be requited;
Then let me die for liberty and fame,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted.
The fight is won; death sated quits the field,--
Yet still the faithful bard, while life is fleeting,
Expiring, lies upon his gory shield,
This dying note with feeble voice repeating,
The lady of my love I do not name,
In heaven above we yet may be united;
I fought and fell for liberty and fame,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted,
Beneath the banner where my vows were plighted.