She scarce knows what—her cheek is drench’d with tears,
And forms and scenes distorted cross her mind,
Like images on water, swept by wind.
She starts—ah, now all’s known—that voice—for well
Each tone of that loved voice her ear can tell!
’Twas then that Gilbert strove, with voice and hand,
To that last charge to cheer his drooping band;
She hears and flies—flings wide the door, and all
Is there revealed within that gory hall.
XIV.