 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
XX.
Their wrath which, if its object had not flown,Might into outrage instantly have grown,
Died by degrees away—the bard withdrawn—
When through the canvass gleamed the summer dawn!
To sleep's demands the revellers 'gan to yield,
Each taking for a couch his own broad shield,
Where he had sat. Now reigned but stillness o'er
The scene, where wildest mirth had reigned before.
But soon, above their slumbers, from without,
Broke other sound than song or wassail shout—
Each startled warrior caught the loud alarms,
And, half-awakened, grasped his ready arms!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |