Classic Poem

CHORUS OF BARDS .

III. I.

Behold the brassey-bristling foes advance
Grasp the firm Shield and shake the thirsty Lance!
Front answering front the breathing Battles stand
Eye meeting eye, and hand high threatening hand.

III. ii.

Hark! the sticken helmets ring
Hark! the holbards shivering sing:
The bloody-work is well begun,
Round the purple torrents run.
Wild, as Ocean tempest-tost,
Heaves the feathery-surging host;
Loud, as thunder's rattling rout,
Roll the Cars the warrior's shout;
Strong, as prison-bursting wind.
(Free to boot, and unconfin'd)
Fiercer than the powers of song
Swells the tide of war along.
Hovering high, on either band
Slaughter lays a crimson hand,
And round her Demons, in a dusky ring,
Their howling notes of horror sing;
Pleas'd the warrior's blood to spill,
They the fate-devoted hill;
Swift the weapon waft in air,
Swift the steeled bosom bare,
And, mightiest of the strong to slay,
Wing the dart and point the way.

III. iii.

Besmit with gore, and wod with wounds
Hengist meets the Scottish Peer;
They look — they frown — and each his Spear
Shakes, but awhile delays to smite: —
Lo! Dongar flies and dusts it o'er the plain;
Hengest brave pursues amain
Thro' floods cf carnage, and o'er hills of slain:
Thro' the blind woods and down the shadowy dale,
Clos'd in the cloudy mufflings of the Night,
While sad upon the wet wings of the gale
Come shouts and mingled groans, murmurings and sounds
Onward our Heroes press their keen-pursuing flight;
Fearfully distant from our wishes far,
They urge their random deeds in the dark-dealing war.