That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
The complete works of lord Byron with a biogr. and critical notice by J. W. Lake - Page 298
by George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1825
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