Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/299

Rh

wine-month* shone in its golden prime, And the red grapes clustering hung, But a deeper sound, through the Switzer's clime, Than the vintage-music, rung. A sound, through vaulted cave, A sound, through echoing glen, Like the hollow swell of a rushing wave; —'Twas the tread of steel-girt men.

And a trumpet, pealing wild and far, Midst the ancient rocks was blown, Till the Alps replied to that voice of war, With a thousand of their own. And through the forest glooms Flash'd helmets to the day, And the winds were tossing knightly plumes, Like the larch-boughs in their play.