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A while of weakness followed. My brain reel'd: my fingers dug into the rock behind till they bled. I bent forward forward over the heaving mist through which the sea crawl'd like a snake. It beckon'd me down, that crawling water.... I stiffened my knees and the faintness pass'd. I must not look down again. It flashed on me that Delia had call'd me weak: and I hardened my heart to fight it out.
"I remember both one and the other," said Giles Gosling; "it is sung of a dozen times a week on my ale-bench below. Sir Roger Robsart of Devon oh, ay, 'tis him of whom minstrels sing to this hour, 'He was the flower of Stoke's red field, When Martin Swart on ground lay slain; In raging rout he never reel'd, But like a rock did firm remain.
As Leostratus of Croton, At the Pythian God's behest, Steer'd along the troubled waters To the tranquil spirit-land. In the earthquake of the battle, When the Locrians reel'd before Croton's shock of marching iron, Strode a Phantom to their van: Strode the shade of Locrian Ajax, Guarding still the native soil, And Leostratus, confronting, Wounded fell before the spear.
IV. Flash'd all their sabers bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke, Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the saber-stroke Shattered and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.
I saw him stand Before an altar with a gentle bride; Her face was fair, but was not that which made The star-light of his boyhood; as he stood Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came The self-same aspect, and the quivering shock That in the antique oratory shook His bosom in its solitude; and then As in that hour a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced, and then it faded as it came, And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke The fitting vows, but beard not his own words, And all things reel'd around him: he could see Not that which was, nor that which should have been But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall, And the remember'd chambers, and the place, The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade, All things pertaining to that place and hour, And her who was his destiny, came back, And thrust themselves between him and the light: What business had they there at such a time?"
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