XXV.

Past was the flight, and welcome seem'd the tower,
That like a giant standard-bearer frown'd
Defiance on the roving Indian power.
Beneath, each bold and promontory mound
With embrasure emboss'd, and armour crown'd,
An arrowy frieze, and wedged ravelin,
Wove like a diadem its tracery round

The lofty summit of that mountain green;
Here stood secure the group, and eyed a distant
scene, -

XXVI.

A scene of death! where fires beneath the sun,
And blended arms, and white pavilions glow;
And for the business of destruction done
Its requiem the war-horn seem'd to blow:
There, sad spectatress of her country's wo!
The lovely Gertrude, safe from present harm,
Had laid her cheek, and clasp'd her hands of

snow

On Waldegrave's shoulder, half within his arm Enclosed, that felt her heart, and hush'd its wild. alarm!

XXVII.

But short that contemplation — sad and short The pause to bid each much-loved scene adieu!

Beneath the very shadow of the fort,

were drawn, and banners

of Indian crew

of murderous

as,

We call feel tny dear caress :