With a willowy droop, as beneath the storm;
Till wakening in anguish, his faint heart strove
In vain with its burden of helpless love!
Thus woke the dreamer one weary night—
There flash’d through his dungeon a swift strong light;
He sprang up—he climb’d to the grating-bars.
—It was not the rising of moon or stars,
But a signal-flame from a peak of snow,
Rock’d through the dark skies to and fro!
There shot forth another—another still—