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Updated: September 7, 2025
Just then Bob rose in his stirrups in answer to a sign from Denham, clapped his fist to his mouth, and brought forth a capital imitation of a trumpet's blast, which made the horses stretch out and tear away close together over the open veldt as if in answer to the cry which thrilled me with recollections.
The admiring looks, the respectful salutes, the smiles of the women, the soft, caressing tones of Sabine, and Madame Gerson's pearly teeth, he saw or heard all these again, and above all, this word clear as a clarion, triumphant as a trumpet's blast: Success! All this came back again to him. "You have succeeded!" He heard Guy's voice again speaking this to him in joyous tones. Succeeded!
The trumpet's loud call awoke every sleeper in the city of Brussels a little after midnight. Then it became known that the French had advanced to Charleroi, which they had taken, and that the English troops were ordered to advance and support the Prussians.
And as his voice had something of the trumpet's hardness, it had something also of the trumpet's warlike inspiration.
What glowing hopes here leap out in rapid words! No bitterness of hate, no revenge, no cruel purpose; but simply the firm resolve to march in the front of their country's defenders. Would you hear a song? You shall, for even now they sing: "Aha! a song for the trumpet's tongue! For the bugle to sing before us, When our gleaming guns, like clarions, Shall thunder in battle chorus!"
No suppliant crowds before the judge appeared, No court erected yet, nor cause was heard, But all was safe, for conscience was their guard. No walls were yet, nor fence, nor moat, nor mound; Nor drum was heard, nor trumpet's angry sound; Nor swords were forged; but, void of care and crime, The soft creation slept away their time.
Bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far differently. Instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she whets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity. As the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins, and waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. At the signal she drew her sword, and fell with fury upon her Rogero.
Over the iron shield the spiders hang their threads, or that Rust eats the pointed spear and double-edged sword. No more is heard the trumpet's brazen roar, Sweet sleep is banished from our eyes no more. For, during the whole reign of Numa, there was neither war, nor sedition, nor innovation in the state, nor any envy or ill-will to his person, nor plot or conspiracy from views of ambition.
Then as I looked towards the sea I thought I saw the fleet of Gryffith Ab Cynan steering from Ireland to Aber Menai, Gryffith, the son of a fugitive king, born in Ireland, in the Commot of Columbcille, Gryffith the frequently baffled, the often victorious; once a manacled prisoner sweating in the sun, in the market-place of Chester, eventually king of North Wales; Gryffith, who "though he loved well the trumpet's clang loved the sound of the harp better"; who led on his warriors to twenty-four battles, and presided over the composition of the twenty-four measures of Cambrian song.
My helm and shield are rusting in the hall; The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast, The herald's call, inviting to the lists, Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught Save cowherd's horn and cattle-bell is heard, In one unvarying, dull monotony. ATTINGHAUSEN. Deluded boy, seduced by empty show! Despise the land that gave thee birth! Ashamed Of the good ancient customs of thy sires!
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