Look’d eager to her mother silently;
But Gaudiosa trembled and grew pale,
Doubting her sense deceived. A second time
The bugle breathed its well-known notes abroad
And Hermesind around her mother’s neck
Threw her white arms, and earnestly exclaim’d,
’Tis he!... But when a third and broader blast
Rung in the echoing archway, ne’er did wand,
With magic power endued, call up a sight
So strange, as sure in that wild solitude