THE RHYME.
Broad the forest stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged—
Toll slowly!
And three hundred years had stood, mute adown each hoary wood,
Like a full heart, having prayed.
Toll slowly!
And three hundred years had stood, mute adown each hoary wood,
Like a full heart, having prayed.
And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,—
Toll slowly!
And but little thought was theirs, of the silent antique years,
In the building of their nest.
Toll slowly!
And but little thought was theirs, of the silent antique years,
In the building of their nest.
Down the sun dropt, large and red, on the towers of Linteged,—
Toll slowly!
Lance and spearhead on the height, bristling strange in fiery light,
While the castle stood in shade.
Toll slowly!
Lance and spearhead on the height, bristling strange in fiery light,
While the castle stood in shade.
There, the castle stood up black, with the red sun at its back,—
Toll slowly!
Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire,
When the wind is on its track.
Toll slowly!
Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire,
When the wind is on its track.
And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall,—
Toll slowly!
And the castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood,
And to-night, anears its fall.
Toll slowly!
And the castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood,
And to-night, anears its fall.
Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,—
Toll slowly!
One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors,
"May good angels bless our home."
Toll slowly!
One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors,
"May good angels bless our home."
