14 JOHN FLETCHER
Like a daric wood he comes, or tempest pouring; O view the wings of horse the meadows scouring! The vanguard marches bravely. Hark, the drums !
Dub, dub !
They meet, they meet, and now the battle comes: See how the arrows fly That darken all the sky ! Hark how the trumpets sound ! Hark how the hills rebound
Tara, tara, tara, tara, tara!
Hark how the horses charge ! in, boys ! boys, in ! The battle totters; now the wounds begin:
O how they cry !
O how they die ! Room for the valiant Memnon, armed with thunder !
See how he breaks the ranks asunder ! They fly ! they fly ! Eumenes has the chase, And brave Polybius makes good his place :
To the plains, to the woods,
To the rocks, to the floods, They fly for succour. Follow, follow, follow ! Hark how the soldiers hollow !
Hey, hey!
Brave Diocles is dead, And all his soldiers fled ; The battle's won, and lost, That many a life hath cost.
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