The Too-Late Born

We too, we too, descending once again

The hills of our own land, we too have heard

Far off —- Ah, que ce cor a longue haleine —-

The horn of Roland in the passages of Spain,

The first, the second blast, the failing third,

And with the third turned back and climbed once more

The steep road southward, and heard faint the sound

Of swords, of horses, the disastrous war,

And crossed the dark defile at last, and found

At Roncevaux upon the darkening plain

The dead against the dead and on the silent ground

The silent slain—-