64
“The tramp of destr’iers riseth with a noise as though some quake of earth rolled ’neath their tread: Heart-strings in bosoms flutter; gazing eyes are fixt in mingled sense of joy and dread: This, from his charger not dismounting flies; that groaneth falling with his falling steed; this hath his snow-white mail with vermeil dyed; that, with his helm-plume flogs his courser’s side.