As Percy ceas'd, the bugles blew;

Strait to the sound his yeomen flew ;

The slumbering stag-hound heard the note, And starting, bay'd with answering throat, Then lightly bounded on before ;

While thronging fast, with loud uproar,
From hill and glen, o'er bank and brook,

Their bows the ready archers took;
Ere rang the bugle's second blast,

Their scatter'd force, so widely cast
Thro' the long alleys of the wood,
In one embodied phalanx stood;
And when again was heard the peal,
With knee advanc'd and steady heel,
Each bowman bent his trusty yew,

An arrow from his broad belt drew,

And ere he fix'd it on the string,

Twang'd the strong cord, and prov'd its spring. Proudly advanc'd before the rest,

His coal-black steed the Percy prest;

And scarce his warlike ranks array'd,
When from the neighbouring forest-shade,

Borne on a charger, white as snow,

With steel-sperth at his saddle-bow,

And milk-white plume and visor shut,
Sheath'd in bright arms from head to foot,

A stately warrior rode amain;

Behind, a long unbroken train

Thro' the deep pass in silence wound,

Save that along the hollow ground

Ran their quick footsteps' sullen roar;
Two thousand chosen spears and more,