 | The bridal of Vaumond |  |
I.
“Summon the Baron of VaumondFrom treason foul and dæmon bond,
To cleanse his honour's stain!”
—I cannot tell the countless throng
Whose gathering thousands roll'd along
Upon the echoing plain;
As waves the serried grain, each crest
By every transient gale carest,
That undulating multitude
A mingling mass all anxious stood.
| The bridal of Vaumond | |