Chapter XXIII

We rode in silence. And at twilight came
Into the Moated Manse.--Great clouds had grown
Up in the West, on which the sunset's flame
Lay like the hand of slaughter.--Very lone
Its rooms and halls: a splintered door that, lame,
Swung on one hinge; a cabinet o'erthrown;
Or arras torn; or blood-stain turning wan,
Showed us the way the battle once had gone.