Page:The Yeomen of the Guard.djvu/7



Within its wall of rock The flower of the brave Have perished with a constancy unshaken. From the dungeon to the block, From the scaffold to the grave, Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken. And the wicked flames may hiss Round the heroes who have fought For conscience and for home in all its beauty, But the grim old fortalice Takes little heed of aught That comes not in the measure of its duty. "The screw may twist and the rack may turn, And men may bleed and men may burn. O'er London town and its golden hoard I keep my silent watch and ward!"

[Exeunt all but. Enter