But when he came, though pale and wan,
He looked so great and high,
So noble was his manly front,
So calm his steadfast eye;--
The rabble rout forebore to shout,
And each man held his breath,
For well they knew the hero's soul
Was face to face with death.
And then a mournful shudder
Through all the people crept,
And some that came to scoff at him,
Now turn'd aside and wept.