Cho. Now entertain conjecture of a time

When creeping murmur and the poring dark

Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night

The hum of either army stilly sounds,[1]

That the fix’d sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other’s watch:[2]

Fire answers fire;[3] and through their paly flames

Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face:[4]

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs