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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