Await—their lord is there.
He gave his pennon to the gale,
His bugle echo’d far,
O’er distant forest, plain and dale,
The fearful notes of war.
Then spurr’d their furious steeds amain,
And soon they cross the lengthen’d plain.
But, lo! from yonder lofty tower,
The ladye keeps her lonely watch,
And there has spent a long, long hour,