And friends, dear friends,—­when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
  And round my bier ye come to weep,
Let one most loving of you all
Say, “Not a tear must o’er her fall;
  ‘He giveth his beloved, sleep.’ "

XLIX.  DESCRIPTION OF A SIEGE. (197)

“The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow.”  “Under what banner?” asked Ivanhoe.  “Under no ensign which I can observe,” answered Rebecca.  “A singular novelty,” muttered the knight, “to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed.  Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?” “A knight clad in sable armor is the most conspicuous,” said the Jewess:  “he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him.”

“Seem there no other leaders?” exclaimed the anxious inquirer.  “None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station,” said Rebecca, “but doubtless the other side of the castle is also assailed.  They seem, even now, preparing to advance.  God of Zion protect us!  What a dreadful sight!  Those who advance first bear huge shields and defenses made of plank:  the others follow, bending their bows as they come on.  They raise their bows!  God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made!”

Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the kettledrums, retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy.  The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants crying, “Saint George, for merry England!” and the Normans answering them with loud cries of “Onward, De Bracy!  Front de Boeuf, to the rescue!”

“And I must lie here like a bedridden monk,” exclaimed Ivanhoe, “while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others!  Look from the window once again, kind maiden, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm.”  With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be exposed to the arrows of the archers.  “What dost thou see, Rebecca?” again demanded the wounded knight.  “Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them.”  “That can not endure,” said Ivanhoe.  “If they press not right on, to carry the castle by force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks.  Look for the knight in dark armor, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be.”