But itching ears her language scanned,
And jealous eyes were on her steps;
And fancies into rumors fanned
By loyal shrews and demireps
Proclaimed her traitress to the land.

They knew her blood, but could not know
That mighty passion of her heart
Which, reaching widely in its woe,
Grasped all she loved on either part,
And could not, would not let it go!



XXI.

The time of gathering came and went--
Of noisy zeal and hasty drill--
And every where, in field and tent,--
A constant presence,--Philip's will
Moulded the callow regiment.

And then there fell a gala day,
When all the mighty, motley swarm
Appeared in beautiful display
Of burnished arms and uniform,
And gloried in their brave array!--

And, later still, the hour of dread
To all the simple country round,