Sir Eliduc's bright blade is at his throat, Sir Eliduc's mail'd foot is on his breast, The misty meadows round about him float, Yet his unconquer'd soul takes up the quest— 'Love, Guillardun! tho' now thou art far remote, My spirit shall wait thee in the glowing West.' So saying closed his eyes on mortal pain, To dwell with those lost souls in battle slain. |