And we hang thee high in air.
To arms—to arms, my faithful Archers,
Without the rousing war-pipes sound,
My Cavaliers, and trusty foot-men,
Haste the grove to circle round!’
It is not yet the glow of mid-day,
Loud and long the bell doth boom!
It is not yet the gloom of midnight,
Walk they both to meet their doom!
To the sound of Ave-Marias,