"My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee." 535 He crossed the threshold--and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rushed, But soon for vain alarm he blushed, When on the floor he saw displayed, 540 Cause of the din, a naked blade Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; For all around, the walls to grace, Hung trophies of the fight or chase: 545 A target there, a bugle here, A battle-ax, a hunting spear, And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, With the tusked trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550 And there the wild-cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns, Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; Pennons and flags defaced and stained, That blackening streaks of blood retained, 555 And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, With otter's fur and seal's unite, In rude and uncouth tapestry all, To garnish forth the silvan hall. XXVIII The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560 And next the fallen weapon raised-- Few were the arms whose sinewy strength, Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and swayed, "I never knew but one," he said, 565 "Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field." She sighed, then smiled and took the word: "You see the guardian champion's sword; As light it trembles in his hand, 570 As in my grasp a hazel wand; My sire's tall form might grace the part Of Ferragus, or Ascabart; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old." 575 XXIX