The promised aid: but hark! a shout is sent
Up from the noble barks!—the Moslem line is rent!
XXIV.
On, on through rushing flame and arrowy shower,
The welcome prows have cleft their rapid way;
And, with the shadows of the vesper hour,
Furl’d their white sails, and anchor’d in the bay.
Then were the streets with song and torch-fire gay,
Then the Greek wines flow’d mantling in the light
Of festal halls; and there was joy!—the ray