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 town to town, they sprang; they sprang from hill to hill: Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o’er Darwins 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 wild 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; (_End of Lord Macaulay._) Till, from the peaks of Cheviot, the wonder-telling flames Passed on the news from Berwick bounds to subjects of King James.