The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw, o erhanging Richmond Hill, that streak of blood-red light: The 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 farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each rousing 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, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went; And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent: Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth; High on black 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, all night from hill to hill; Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Derwent'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 town and hamlet rose in arms, o'er all the boundless plain; Till Belvoir's lordly towers the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on, o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burnt on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle. _LORD TENNYSON_ LADY CLARE IT was the time when lilies blow, And clouds are highest up in air, Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe To give his cousin, Lady Clare. I trove they did not part in scorn: Lovers long-betroth'd were they: They two will wed the morrow morn; God's blessing on the day! 'He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well,' said Lady Clare. In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, Who was this that went from thee?' 'It was my cousin,' said Lady Clare, To-morrow he weds with me.' O God be thank'd!' said Alice the nurse, That all comes round so just and fair: Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, And you are not the Lady Clare.' 'Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?' Said Lady Clare, that ye speak so wild?' As God's above,' said Alice the nurse, I speak the truth: you are my child. 'The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead.'