Paul's bell tolls
out one, and we may move and speak, we thus discourse, nor leave
such themes till the first gray gleam of day shall strike us dumb.
Is that our bargain, brother?'
'Yes,' said the Giant Gog, 'that is the league between us who guard
this city, by day in spirit, and by night in body also; and never
on ancient holidays have its conduits run wine more merrily than we
will pour forth our legendary lore. We are old chroniclers from
this time hence. The crumbled walls encircle us once more, the
postern-gates are closed, the drawbridge is up, and pent in its
narrow den beneath, the water foams and struggles with the sunken
starlings. Jerkins and quarter-staves are in the streets again,
the nightly watch is set, the rebel, sad and lonely in his Tower
dungeon, tries to sleep and weeps for home and children. Aloft
upon the gates and walls are noble heads glaring fiercely down upon
the dreaming city, and vexing the hungry dogs that scent them in
the air, and tear the ground beneath with dismal howlings. The
axe, the block, the rack, in their dark chambers give signs of
recent use. The Thames, floating past long lines of cheerful
windows whence come a burst of music and a stream of light, bears
suddenly to the Palace wall the last red stain brought on the tide
from Traitor's Gate.
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