is groping near them,
Sees nothing, and can scarcely hear them.
He is astounded,--wonder not,--
With such a charge in such a spot; 195
Astounded in the mountain gap
With thunder-peals, clap after clap,
Close-treading on the silent flashes--
And somewhere, as he thinks, by crashes [28]
Among the rocks; with weight of rain, 200
And sullen [29] motions long and slow,
That to a dreary distance go--
Till, breaking in upon the dying strain,
A rending o'er his head begins the fray again.

Meanwhile, uncertain what to do, 205
And oftentimes compelled to halt,
The horses cautiously pursue
Their way, without mishap or fault;
And now have reached that pile of stones,
Heaped over brave King Dunmail's bones; 210
He who had once supreme command,
Last king of rocky Cumberland;
His bones, and those of all his Power,
Slain here in a disastrous hour!

When, passing through this narrow strait, 215
Stony, and dark, and desolate,
Benjamin can faintly hear
A voice that comes from some one near,
A female voice:--"Whoe'er you be,
Stop," it exclaimed, "and pity me!" 220
And, less in pity than in wonder,
Amid the darkness and the thunder,
The Waggoner, with prompt command,
Summons his horses to a stand.

While, with increasing agitation, 225
The Woman urged her supplication,
In rueful words, with sobs between--
The voice of tears that fell unseen; [30]
There came a flash--a startling glare,
And all Seat-Sandal was laid bare! 230
'Tis not a time for nice suggestion,
And Benjamin, without a question,
Taking her for some way-worn rover, [31]
Said, "Mount, and get you under cover!"
Another voice, in tone as hoarse 235
As a swoln brook with rugged course,
Cried out, "Good brother, why so fast?
I've had a glimpse of you--'avast!'
Or, since it suits you to be civil,
Take her at once--for good and evil!" 240

"It is my Husband," softly said
The Woman, as if half afraid:
By this time she was snug within,
Through help of honest Benjamin;
She and her Babe, which to her breast 245
With thankfulness the Mother pressed;
An