When fell the chill that tells of day,7
Darkling, the warriors took their way.
Leaving the river's rocky bed
Silent and swift, Moyarra led.
Nor long they journeyed, ere a star
Eclipsed in station high, while near
Beamed brightly many a rival sphere,
Served to their practised eyes to show
Where frowned a neighbouring mountain's brow;
Nearing it with unslackened pace
They bounded up its rocky base:
With joy beheld that winter's chill
Had bared the summit of the hill.
Save where in dreary order stood
Some hardier scions of the wood
Which, having bloomed their little hour
Remained, types of their tyrant's power,
Lifeless, yet in bleak array
Memorials eloquent of decay.
Now, lo! each moment brighter than the last