Of lofty sadness in it.
Troubadour sings.
’Twas a trumpet’s pealing sound!
And the knight look’d down from the Paynim’s tower,
And a Christian host in its pride and power
Through the pass beneath him wound.
“Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill.
Cease! let them hear the captive’s voice—be still!
“I knew ’twas a trumpet’s note!
And I see my brethren’s lances gleam,