 | The bridal of Vaumond |  |
III.
Streaming on the blackness deepWas a glare at distance shed,
Quick from his knee did the warrior leap—
As his saviour rock down sped!
The sign of the blessed cross he made
And onward rush'd where the gleaming play'd;
Now by rudely jutting stone
Backward in his progress thrown—
Plunging on with steps of haste,
Downward, darkling was he cast;—
109
Hurl'd down precipice and hill,
So terror, hope, and faith combined,
While sense to toil and pain was blind,
To lead the youth toward the light
In the waking dream of that awful night!
| The bridal of Vaumond | |