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Picture Credits:
Against the morrow's dawn,
A throbbing head and anxious heart
Arose from silken guardhouse couch,
In loneliest yet best repose,
A night of silence and rest, done.
Back to his watch on turret high,
Alone standing, ever watchful, vigilant.
Far off a lute's soft tone
Across the still air of night
Is heard, so soft it was, and soothing.
With snaffle, spur and spear, ever watchful!
Wrapped in footcloth from his black mare,
Blocking out the chill night air, so cold
His brazier wants for warmth!
Shivering near this fire, shivering, but watchful.
Alone on tower's ramparts,
Ever alert he was, ever vigilant.
Eyes combating the darkness,
Searching beyond the borderlands,
Reaching out toward the marshlands.
Glancing toward the heavens,
The dark cold moon hangs above,
There, that far off music is heard,
Like a choral stave, from the Great Hall,
Melodious and soothing it was.
He shivered with cold, bitter cold.
In the battlement's heights
He could almost touch the sky.
His whingers frozen in their scabbards.
The night so peaceful, yet frozen.
There! The Middle Marches seen clearly,
A vast domain in sight.
His countenance strong, resolute,
Rugged and vigil.
The pennon on his spear fluttering.
Downward in the castle-yard,
Helms and plumes, tossed 'round.
A sudden disorder shook,
A blast of trumpets, in alarm!
Men-at-arms gathered, foot and horse.
This watchman grabbed his harquebus,
A war-note was sounded.
Blazing strong a mighty roar.
Confusion gripped the night,
But what, pray, had stirred it?
The braziers blazed all round,
The mounted warriors rode out
Through castle gate o'er moat,
A ride for life and death.
The watchman watched amazed!
Wherefore the danger be?
What startled the stillness of night?
The foe nowhere to be found,
Yet horsemen galloped forth.
With warlike tidings upon the moors.
Trampling hoofs, trampled down,
The sound of steel and iron casts,
The castle-bell clanged piercing tones,
Splitting the calm cold night.
Banners, pennants, flags raised high.
The Baron of the keep rode hence,
Fierce and proud wheeled 'round,
He spurred his steed to lead his men,
As bursting thunder-clouds came
To open the skies in full measure.
Toward the western woodland brook,
This mighty host approached.
The watchman still bemused,
Could not reconcile his wits.
Perplexed he stood, no foe to see!
Ride on! Ride on!
The enemy to ferret out.
Mount, mount, forward!
But empty wood and stream
Had greeted this grim multitude.
He strained his eyes, this watchman did,
For any signs and omens.
The bugle-horn loudly sounds,
Yet none to meet the charge!
What madness this? What lunacy?
Then, as quickly as it all began,
In solemn measure, all faded!
Yes - the mounts and men, all faded,
The banners, flags and Baron, gone,
As a vignette disappears, slowly.
The watchman, awed, felt a sudden rush,
Shaken by the shoulders hard.
The Master of the Watch had come.
"Wake up you fool," he shouted,"Asleep?"
Yes, asleep this watchman, soundly slept.
Struggling to his feet, his dream he did impart.
The watchman bid forgiveness.
Sobbing in distress, he knew his fate too well.
The Master of the Watch with men-at-arms,
Threw him from the parapet.
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