Es over them, On dreadful cherubs borne; And the psalm is roaring above
the rune, And the Cross goes over the sun and moon, Endeth the battle of
Ethandune With the blowing of a horn." For back indeed disorderly The
Danes went clamouring, Too worn to take anew the tale, Or dazed with
insolence and ale, Or stunned of heaven, or stricken pale Before the
face of the King. For dire was Alfred in his hour The pale scribe
witnesseth, More mighty in defeat was he Than all men else in victory,
And behind, his men came murderously, Dry-throated, drinking death. And
Edgar of the Golden Ship He slew with his own hand, Took Ludwig from his
lady's bower, And smote down Harmar in his hour, And vain and lonely
stood the tower-- The tower in Guelderland. And Torr out of his tiny
boat, Whose eyes beheld the Nile, Wulf with his war-cry on his lips, And
Harco born in the eclipse, Who blocked the Seine with battleships Round
Paris on the Isle. And Hacon of the Harvest-Song, And Dirck from the
Elbe he slew, And Cnut that melted Durham bell And Fulk and fiery Oscar
fell, And Goderic and Sigael, And Uriel of the Yew. And highest sang the
slaughter, And fastest fell the slain, When from the wood-road's
blackening throat A crowning and crashing wonder smote The rear-guard of
the Dane. For the dregs of Colan's company-- Lost down the other road--
Had gathered and grown and heard the din, And with wild yells came
pouring in,

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