Volume Ii Part 29 (1/2)

Yellow flamed the meady sunset; Red runs up the flag of morn.

Signal for the British onset Hiccups through the British horn.

Down these hillmen pour like cattle Sniffing pasture: grim below, Showing eager teeth of battle, In his spear-heads lies the foe.

IV

- Monster of the sea! we drive him Back into his hungry brine.

- You shall lodge him, feed him, wive him, Look on us; we stand in line.

- Pale sea-monster! foul the waters Cast him; foul he leaves our land.

- You shall yield us land and daughters: Stay the tongue, and try the hand.

V

Swift as torrent-streams our warriors, Tossing torrent lights, find way; Burst the ridges, crowd the barriers, Pierce them where the spear-heads play; Turn them as the clods in furrow, Top them like the leaping foam; Sorrow to the mother, sorrow, Sorrow to the wife at home!

VI

Stags, they b.u.t.ted; bulls, they bellowed; Hounds, we baited them; oh, brave!

Every second man, unfellowed, Took the strokes of two, and gave.

Bare as hop-stakes in November's Mists they met our battle-flood: h.o.a.ry-red as Winter's embers Lay their dead lines done in blood.

VII

Thou, my Bard, didst hang thy lyre in Oak-leaves, and with crimson brand Rhythmic fury spent, Aneurin; Songs the churls could understand: Thrumming on their Saxon sconces Straight, the invariable blow, Till they snorted true responses.

Ever thus the Bard they know!

VIII

But ere nightfall, harper l.u.s.ty!

When the sun was like a ball Dropping on the battle dusty, What was yon discordant call?

Cambria's old metheglin demon Breathed against our rus.h.i.+ng tide; Clove us midst the thres.h.i.+ng seamen:- Gashed, we saw our ranks divide!

IX

Britain then with valedictory Shriek veiled off her face and knelt.

Full of liquor, full of victory, Chief on chief old vengeance dealt.

Backward swung their hurly-burly; None but dead men kept the fight.

They that drink their cup too early, Darkness they shall see ere night.

X

Loud we heard the yellow rover Laugh to sleep, while we raged thick, Thick as ants the ant-hill over, Asking who has thrust the stick.

Lo, as frogs that Winter c.u.mbers Meet the Spring with stiffen'd yawn, We from our hard night of slumbers Marched into the b.l.o.o.d.y dawn.

XI

Day on day we fought, though shattered: Pushed and met repulses sharp, Till our Raven's plumes were scattered: All, save old Aneurin's harp.

Hear it wailing like a mother O'er the strings of children slain!