ETHANDUNE: THE FIRST STROKE
King Guthrum was a dread king, Like death out of the north;Shrines without name or numberHe rent and rolled as lumber,From Chester to the Humber He drove his foemen forth.
The Roman villas heard him In the valley of the Thames,Come over the hills roaringAbove their roofs, and pouringOn spire and stair and flooring Brimstone and pitch and flames.
Sheer o'er the great chalk uplands And the hill of the Horse went he,Till high on Hampshire beacons He saw the southern sea.
High on the heights of Wessex He saw the southern brine,And turned him to a conquered land,
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