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And, spreading broad its wavering light,
Shakes its loose tresses on the night?
Is yon red glare the western star?—
O 'tis the beacon-blaze of war!
Scarce could she draw her tightened breath;
For well she knew the fire of death!
Shakes its loose tresses on the night?
Is yon red glare the western star?—
O 'tis the beacon-blaze of war!
Scarce could she draw her tightened breath;
For well she knew the fire of death!
XXVI.
The Warder viewed it blazing strong,
And blew his war-note loud and long,
Till, at the high and haughty sound,
Rock, wood, and river, rung around;
The blast alarmed the festal hall,
And startled forth the warriors all;
Far downward, in the castle-yard,
Full many a torch and cresset glared;
And helms and plumes, confusedly tossed,
Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost;
And spears in wild disorder shook,
Like reeds beside a frozen brook.
The Warder viewed it blazing strong,
And blew his war-note loud and long,
Till, at the high and haughty sound,
Rock, wood, and river, rung around;
The blast alarmed the festal hall,
And startled forth the warriors all;
Far downward, in the castle-yard,
Full many a torch and cresset glared;
And helms and plumes, confusedly tossed,
Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost;
And spears in wild disorder shook,
Like reeds beside a frozen brook.
