And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back,— Toll slowly. And a fortnight's siege is done—and, except the Duchess, none Can misdoubt the coming wrack.
*....*....*....*
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,— Toll slowly. On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword, With an anguish in his breast.
With a spirit-laden weight, did he lean down passionate.— Toll slowly. They have almost sapped the wall,—they will enter therewithal, With no knocking at the gate.
Then the sword he leant upon, shivered—snapped upon the stone,— Toll slowly. "Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff When thy nobler use is done!
"Sword, thy nobler use is done!—tower is lost, and shame begun"— Toll slowly. "If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech, We should die there, each for one.
"If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall,"— Toll slowly. "But if I die here alone,—then I die, who am but one, And die nobly for them all.
"Five true friends lie for my sake,—in the moat and in the brake,"— Toll slowly. "Thirteen warriors lie at rest, with a black wound in the breast, And not one of these will wake.
"And no more of this shall be!—heart-blood weighs too heavily,"— Toll slowly. "And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave Heaped around and over me.
"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith,"— Toll slowly. "Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks, Albeit never a word she saith—