And, girding on his glaive,
Swift through the glen, with his harnessed men,
He rushed to the Danube’s wave.
‘To the shore! to the shore! thou skipper knave!
For thy life and prize are mine!’
‘Not so, proud knight! for we bear this freight
To the Lord of Greiffenstein.
Look back!’—And looking back he saw
His towers in a ruddy blaze
Where flashing aloof, through the crackling roof,