"Grip, Wulf and Gorlias, grip the ash! Slaves, and I make you free!Stamp, Hildred, hard in English land,Stand Gurth, stand Gorlias, Gawen stand!Hold, Halfgar, with the other hand, Halmer, hold up on knee!
"The lamps are dying in your homes, The fruits upon your bough;Even now your old thatch smoulders, Gurth;Now is the judgment of the earth, Now is the death-grip, now!"
For thunder of the captain, Not less the Wessex line,Leaned back and reeled a space to rearAs Elf charged with the Rhine maid's spear, And roaring like the Rhine.
For the men were born by the waving walls Of woods and clouds that pass,By dizzy plain and drifting sea,And they mixed God with glamoury,God with the gods of the burning tree And the wizard's tower and glass.
But Mark was come of the glittering towns Where hot white details show,
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