XI.
Then deeper paused the priest anew,
And hard his laboring breath he drew,
While, with set teeth and clinched hand,
And eyes that glow’d like fiery brand,
He meditated curse more dread,
And deadlier, on the clansman’s head,
Who, summon’d to his Chieftain’s aid,
The signal saw and disobeyed.
The crosslet’s points of sparkling wood
He quenched among the bubbling blood,
And, as again the sign he rear’d,
Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:
"When flits this Cross from man to man,
Vich-Alpine’s summons to his clan,
Burst be the ear that fails to heed!
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!
May ravens tear the careless eyes,
Wolves make the coward heart their prize!
As sinks that blood stream in the earth,
So may his heart’s blood drench his hearth!
As dies in hissing gore the spark,
Quench thou his light, Destruction dark,
And be the grace to him denied,
Bought by this sign to all beside!"
He ceased; no echo gave agen
The murmur of the deep Amen.