An ancient battlefield'1 s before him,

And grim it looks, for everywhere

Gleam yellow bones, and here and there

Old, broken armour lies, corroding;

A quiver and a rusty shield

Rest near at hand; far out afield

Stiff, bony fingers hold a moulding

Green sword, a skull is seen to rot

Within a weed-grown helm. And what

Is that ahead? A skeleton,

That of a knight, still armed and on

His fallen, fleshless charger seated,

As if alive and undefeated.

Entwined with ivy, arrows, lances,

Spears from the earth stick. Not a sound

Disrupts of these forlorn expanses

The haunting silence and profound;

The sun alone the vale invades

Of death and of its lingering shades.

Sad-eyed the knight around him gazes.

"O field, wide field, you bear the traces

Of slaughter," says he with a sigh.

"Who planted you to bones and why?

By whose fleet stallion were you trampled?

What bloody battle here was fought

With perseverance unexampled?

Who prayed here and salvation sought?

Why are you mute, why with the grasses

O'ergrown of cold oblivion?

Is there escape from it for none?

Is it that time all, all erases?

What if upon some nameless hill

I am to lie? Mayhap Bayan