'The land is desolate; our wives 9
And children cry for bread;
Arise, and pull the tyrant down!
Let Gwin be humbled!'
Gordred the giant rous'd himself 13
From sleeping in his cave;
He shook the hills, and in the clouds
The troubl'd banners wave.
Beneath them roll'd, like tempests black, 17
The num'rous sons of blood;
Like lions' whelps, roaring abroad,
Seeking their nightly food.
Down Bleron's hills they dreadful rush, 21
Their cry ascends the clouds;
The trampling horse and clanging arms
Like rushing mighty floods!
Their wives and children, weeping loud, 25
Follow in wild array.
Howling like ghosts, furious as wolves
In the bleak wintry day.
' Pull down the tyrant to the dust, 29
Let Gwin be humbled,'
They cry, 'and let ten thousand lives
Pay for the tyrant's head.'
From tow'r to tow'r the watchmen cry, 33
' O Gwin, the son of Nore,
Arouse thyself! the nations, black
Like clouds, come rolling o'er!'
Gwin rear'd his shield, his palace shakes, 37
His chiefs come rushing round;
Each, like an awful thunder cloud,
With voice of solemn sound:
9-12 The . . . humbled] No quotation marks in original.21 hills] hill EY.
