Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/238

And with the waving of ten thousand plumes,
Like a land's harvest in the autumn-wind,
And with fierce light, which is not of the sun,
But flung from sheets of steel—it comes, it comes,
The vengeance of our God!

GONZALEZ.

I hear it now,

The heavy tread of mail-clad multitudes,
Like thunder-showers upon the forest-paths.

HERNANDEZ.

Aye, earth knows well the omen of that sound,

And she hath echoes, like a sepulchre's,
Pent in her secret hollows, to respond
Unto the step of death!

GONZALEZ.

Hark! how the wind

Swells proudly with the battle-march of Spain!
Now the heart feels its power!—A little while
Grant me to live, my God!—What pause is this?

HERNANDEZ.

A deep and dreadful one!—the serried files

Level their spears for combat; now the hosts
Look on each other in their brooding wrath,
Silent, and face to face.