For when thy folding-star arising showsHis paly circlet, at his warning lampThe fragrant hours, and elvesWho slept in buds the day,And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedgeAnd sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier still,The pensive pleasures sweetPrepare thy shadowy car.
The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other’s watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other’s umber'd face: Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents, The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.
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