And he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

THE EVE BEFORE WATERLOO

LORD BYRON

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell.

110

But, hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet!
But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is-it is the cannon's opening roar!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come!
they come!"

And wild and high the "Camerons' Gathering" rose!
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard—and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instills
The stirring memory of a thousand years,

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave—alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valor, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay;
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife-
The morn, the marshaling in arms-the day,
Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial blent!

NOTES AND STUDIES

In this selection from Childe Harold one stanza is omitted, because it mars the unity of the passage.

Just before the battle of Waterloo, the English forces were massed about Brussels, the capital of Belgium. On the evening before the battle the Duchess of Richmond gave a ball, which was attended by a great many English officers and their wives. Wellington, for reasons of policy, encouraged his officers to be present at the ball.

LORD BYRON

Lochiel was the ancestral home of the chiefs of the Cameron clan. The chiefs of this clan can show, or at least could, until recently, an unbroken line of descent from the middle of the twelfth century; and the clan had produced many heroic characters.

Evan, or Ewen, seventeenth lord of Lochiel, was one of the commanding figures among the Highland chiefs at the Battle of Killiecrankie, 1689. Donald, his grandson, was the hero of Campbell's poem, Lochiel's Warning. On the morning of the first day's fight at Waterloo, (Quatre-bras) John Cameron, the great-great grandson of Evan, or Ewen, led out from Brussels, the famous 92nd Highlanders, the first regiment to leave the city. As the 92nd marched out the bag pipes played the pibroch, or war tune of the Cameron clans, called "Camerons' Gathering." Col. Cameron was killed toward the close of the first day's fight. "Albyn, a poetic name for the Highlands"

"Saxon Foes, the English and the lowland Scotch had formerly been at feud with the Highlanders"

"Ardennes, the wood of Soignies, between Brussels and Waterloo"

Before beginning your study of the phrases given below, turn to the notes and studies under Webster's "Bunker Hill Address' and read carefully the discussion of Webster's phrasal power.

Pick out the finest expressions in the selection. Notice the rhyme scheme used in the stanza, a-b-a-b-b-c-b-c-c. Notice the

effect of the extra length of the last line of each stanza.

In line 11, the expression "the car rattling o'er the stony street," by its tone quality (tone-color) suggests the idea; and in the next line, "On with the dance," by the voice movement (rhythm) suggests or enforces the idea; see how many similar adaptations you can find in the poem. Stanza 5 is particularly rich in these adaptations of rhythm and tone-color.

The selection we are studying has been called the finest martial poem in the English language. The poet has not tried to make us feel the glory of war, but rather, its unutterable pathos and its horror. The first part of the selection pictures beauty and joyousness, then alarm and trepidation, followed by heroic determination; this, in turn, by tender pathos. Select one or more sentences as examples of each of these.

The last stanza sums up in a masterly way all of the emotional elements of the preceding stanzas.

Read thoughtfully the following extracts from Thackeray's Vanity Fair, then re-read the poem.

"On the appointed night George, having commanded new dresses and ornaments of all sorts for Amelia, drove to the famous ball, where his wife did not know a single soul.' "The enemy has passed the Sambre," William said, "and our left is already engaged. Come away. We are to march in three hours." At that moment a bugle from the Place of Arms began sounding clearly, and was taken up through the town; and amidst the drums of the infantry, and the shrill pipes of the Scotch the whole city awoke. We of peaceful

London city have never beheld-and please God never shall witness such a scene of hurry and alarm as that which Brussels presented. Women rushed to the churches and crowded the chapels, and knelt and prayed on the flagstones and steps. The dull sound of the cannon went on rolling and rolling. All that day, from morning until past sunset, the cannon never ceased to roar. All our friends took their share, and fought like men in the great field. All day long, whilst the