Wildly they meet—that final strife shall close
On none but victors and their silent foes.
XIII.
And where was Clara? In that chamber dark
She might by sounds the battle’s progress mark;
She heard when Gilbert woke them to the fray,
And when the door to angry blows gave way;
The volleyed crash that sped the deadly hail,
And the long shout that quivered to a wail,
She heard—but still as wilder grew the din,