Nor wept, but as she bade her mother’s grave adieu!
XXV.
Past was the flight, and welcome seemed the tower,
That like a giant standard-bearer frowned
Defiance on the roving Indian power.
Beneath, each bold and promontory mound
With embrasure embossed, and armour crowned,
And arrowy frieze, and wedgèd ravelin,
Wove like a diadem its tracery round
The lofty summit of that mountain green;