THE RESCUE. 



" WITH crested helm and steel-cased limb, 

 Arrayed in glorious battle trim, 

 I led my gallant clump of spears, 

 For Victory's bays or bloody biers : 

 Why did my fainting spirit stay, 

 When I was trodden in the clay- 

 Torn senseless from my loyal men, 

 And cooped and chained in donjon-den ? 



" High on the turret stood forlorn 

 My love, on that ill-omen'd morn ; 

 Now waving, in her high-born pride, 

 Her kerchief, like a soldier's bride, 

 Now hiding there her weeping woes, 

 As from her heart the woman rose : 

 Long may she there her vigils keep, 

 And gaze and grieve and watch and weep ! 



" Where now are all my kinsmen proud ? 

 Where the unfailing faith they vowed ? 

 Had I a hound in foeman's thrall, 

 While hung a banner in my hall, 

 While ready to my eager hand, 

 Came lance, or battle-axe, or brand 

 No rampart's strength, nor roaring rout, 

 Should keep him in, or keep me out." 



The warrior hush'd his haughty wail, 

 For sudden on the blustering gale 

 Rolled the deep Nakir hoarse and high, 

 The soul-exciting clarion's cry, 

 The clamour of a warlike power 

 Beleaguering the embattled tower, 

 The circling camp the measured tramp 

 The foaming barb's impatient champ. 



O, could he see that thrilling show ! 

 His own broad banner's blood-red glow, 

 Whose folds the wild wind flaps and flings, 

 Like an avenging angel's wings ; 

 Which forth, as to a banquet, drew 

 A thousand spirits tried and true, 

 To drain their hearts in mortal fight, 

 Or wrest him back to life and light ! 



A human mass of burning ire, 



Spurred by revenge, with soul of fire : 



Fiercely their daring summons rose, 



Met by defiance from their foes. 



Then burst amain their war-cry loud, 



Like thunder bellowing from its cloud ; 



'Mid curse and clash, in maddening jar, 



The cannon-crash the roar of war. 



The barriers quail the bastions fail, 



Crushed by that storm of flaming hail ; 



And through the breach the siegers pour, 



They batter in the castle door : 



Now shouting triumph in the air, 



Chokes the death-wail of wild despair, 



The massive bars in splinters fiee, 



The keep is forced the captive free ! W. G, A, 



