Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/12

X.

All still, all voiceless!—and the billow's roar
Alone replies!—Alike their soul is gone,
Who shared the funeral-feast on Æta's shore,
And theirs, that o'er the field of Ascalon
Swell'd the crusader's hymn!—Then gird thou on
Thine armour, Eastern Queen! and meet the hour
Which waits thee ere the day's fierce work is done
With a strong heart; so may thy helmet tower

Unshiver'd through the storm, for generous hope is power!

XI.

But linger not,—array thy men of might!
The shores, the seas, are peopled with thy foes.
Arms through thy cypress groves are gleaming bright,
And the dark huntsmen of the wild, repose
Beneath the shadowy marble porticoes
Of thy proud villas. Nearer and more near,
Around thy walls the sons of battle close;
Each hour, each moment, hath its sound of fear,

Which the deep grave alone is charter'd not to hear.