High on St. Michael's Mount it shone:

It shone on Beachy Head.

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw,

Along each southern shire,

Cape beyond cape, in endless range,
Those twinkling points of fire.

The fisher left his skiff to rock

On Tamar's glittering waves:

The rugged miners poured to war

From Mendip's sunless caves:

O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks,

The fiery herald flew :

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge,

The rangers of Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night

Rang out from Bristol town,

And ere the day three hundred horse

Had met on Clifton down;

The sentinel on Whitehall gate

Looked forth into the night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill

The streak of blood-red light.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar

The death-like silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry,

The royal city woke.

At once on all her stately gates

Arose the answering fires;

At once the wild alarum clashed
From all her reeling spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower
Pealed loud the voice of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames
Sent back a louder cheer:

And from the furthest wards was heard

The rush of hurrying feet,

And the broad streams of pikes and flags
Rushed down each roaring street;

And broader still became the blaze,

And louder still the din,

As fast from every village round

The horse came spurring in :

And eastward straight from wild Blackheath

The warlike errand went,

And roused in many an ancient hall

The gallant squires of Kent.

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills

Flew those bright couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor

They started for the north;

And on, and on, without a pause,

Untired they bounded still:

All night from tower to tower they sprang; They sprang from hill to hill:

Till the proud peak unfurled the flag

O'er Darwin's rocky dales,

Till like volcanoes flared to heaven

The stormy hills of Wales,

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze
On Malvern's lonely height,

Till streamed in crimson on the wind

The Wrekin's crest of light,

Till broad and fierce the star came forth

On Ely's stately fane,

And tower and hamlet rose in arms

O'er all the boundless plain;

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces

The sign to Lincoln sent,

And Lincoln sped the message on

O'er the wide vale of Trent;

Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned

On Gaunt's embattled pile,

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused The burghers of Carlisle.

THE

CAVALIER'S MARCH TO LONDON.