And where the northern thornwoods standAnd the road parts on either hand, There came to him a sign.
King Guthrum was a war-chief, A wise man in the field,And though he prospered well, and knewHow Alfred's folk were sad and few,Not less with weighty care he drew, Long lines for pike and shield.
King Guthrum lay on the upper land, On a single road at gaze,And his foe must come with lean array,Up on the left arm of the cloven way, To the meeting of the ways.
And long ere the noise of armour, An hour ere the break of light,The woods awoke with crash and cry,And the birds sprang clamouring harsh and high,And the rabbits ran like an elves' army Ere Alfred came in sight.
The live wood came at Guthrum, On foot and claw and wing,The nests were noisy overhead,For Alfred and the star of red,
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