XIV.
Fast as the fatal symbol flies,
In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
From winding glen, from upland brown,
They pour’d each hardy tenant down.
Nor slack’d the messenger his pace;
He show’d the sign, he named the place,
And, pressing forward like the wind,
Left clamor and surprise behind.
The fisherman forsook the strand,
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;
With changed cheer,[193] the mower blithe
Left in the half-cut swath the scythe;
The herds without a keeper stray’d,
The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,
The falc’ner toss’d his hawk away,
The hunter left the stag at bay;
Prompt at the signal of alarms,
Each son of Alpine rush’d to arms;
So swept the tumult and affray
Along the margin of Achray.
Alas, thou lovely lake! that e’er
Thy banks should echo sounds of fear!
The rocks, the bosky[194] thickets, sleep
So stilly on thy bosom deep,
The lark’s blithe carol, from the cloud,
Seems for the scene too gayly loud.