Page:The Fall of the Alamo.djvu/26

 Prepare our arms, call out our countrymen, And gather at my door two hours from now, To storm the fort, when night has spread her shade. [Exeunt]

''A gloomy vault in the Fort of Anahuac, lighted by one single window near the ceiling. Opposite to the side which contains the window, is an adjoining dungeon from which Wm. B. Travis steps forth, absorbed in reverie.''

In prison! Ha! why startles me this name All of a sudden, which like other words Of daily speech I hitherto pronounced Unmoved, unstirred, scarce thinking of its import? Why now rebels my inmost soul against This sound, as though it were a mournful dirge? Why dreads my foot to step upon this floor That, cold and stern, sends shudders through my frame? Why sinks my head involuntarily Betwixt my shoulders, wishing there to hide Against this frowning ceiling's pressing weight? Why shrinks my hand to touch these circling walls That slowly, stealthily, with every moment Seem drawing, creeping closer up to me? Because here is the sum of human horrors, The acme of distress, a living grave,