| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 672. Tradition of Conquest |
| | | By Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt |
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| HIS Grace of Marlborough, legends say, | |
| Though battle-lightnings proved his worth, | |
| Was scathed like others, in his day, | |
| By fiercer fires at his own hearth. | |
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| The patient chief, thus sadly tried,— | 5 |
| Madam, the Duchess, was so fair,— | |
| In Blenheim’s honors felt less pride | |
| Than in the lady’s lovely hair. | |
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| Once ( shorn, she had coiled it there to wound | |
| Her lord when he should pass, ’t is said), | 10 |
| Shining across his path he found | |
| The glory of the woman’s head. | |
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| No sudden word, nor sullen look, | |
| In all his after days, confessed | |
| He missed the charm whose absence took | 15 |
| A scar’s pale shape within his breast. | |
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| I think she longed to have him blame, | |
| And soothe him with imperious tears:— | |
| As if her beauty were the same, | |
| He praised her through his courteous years. | 20 |
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| But when the soldier’s arm was dust, | |
| Among the dead man’s treasures, where | |
| He laid it as from moth and rust, | |
| They found his wayward wife’s sweet hair. | |
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