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”This night yon haughty Towers must yield,
Or we for ever quit the field.
—Neville is utterly dismayed,
For promise fails of Howard’s aid;
And Dacre to our call replies
That he is unprepared to rise.
My heart is sick;—this weary pause
Must needs be fatal to the cause.
The breach is open—on the Wall,
This night, the Banner shall be planted!”
—’Twas done :—his Sons were with him—all;—
They belt him round with hearts undaunted:
And others follow—Sire and Son
Leap down into the court—“’Tis won”—
They shout aloud—but Heaven decreed
Another close
To that brave deed
Which struck with terror friends and foes!
The friend shrinks back—the foe recoils
From Norton and his filial band;
