With no shrill of bugle or revelry,
Like angels of Death's dread company.
At night they stole to the dty-wall
And clustered beneath the ramparts tall;
And hearkened for noise of warlike din,
And found no breath of strife within;
And watched for lights in the houses' eyes,
And saw but the stars within the skies.
Then as one voice they raised the shout,
The echo eddied their cry about,