Yet trust I well, his duty done,
The orphan’s God will guard my son.—
And you, in many a danger true,
At Duncan’s hest[201] your blades that drew,
To arms, and guard that orphan’s head!
Let babes and women wail the dead.”
Then weapon clang, and martial call,
Resounded through the funeral hall,
While from the walls the attendant band
Snatch’d sword and targe, with hurried hand;