"'No wolf, Lord of Estienne, has ravaged thy hall,
But thy red-handed rival, with fire, steel and ball!
On an errand of mercy, I hitherward came,
While the walls of thy castle yet spouted with flame.
"'Pentagoet's dark vessels were moored in the bay,
Grim sea-lions roaring aloud for their prey.'
'But what of my lady?' cried Charles of Estienne:
'On the shot-crumbled turret, thy lady was seen:
"'Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud, her hand grasped thy pennon,
While her dark tresses swayed in the hot breath of cannon!