Woman and child—all caught the fire of men,50
To its own heaven that Alleluia rang,
Life to the spectres had return'd again;
And from the grave an armèd Nation sprang!
Then spoke the Bard,—each crest its plumage bow'd,
As the large voice went lengthening through the crowd
"Hark to the measur'd march!—The Saxons come!51
The sound earth quails beneath the hollow tread;
Your fathers rush'd upon the swords of Rome
And climb'd her war-ships, when the Cæsar fled!
The Saxons come! why wait within the wall?
They scale the mountain—let its torrents fall!
"Mark, ye have swords, and shields, and armour, ye!52
No mail defends the Cymrian Child of Song,[5]
But where the warrior—there the Bard shall be!
All fields of glory to the Bard belong!
His realm extends wherever godlike strife
Spurns the base death, and wins immortal life.
"Unarm'd he goes—his guard the shields of all,53
Where he bounds foremost on the Saxon spear!
Unarm'd he goes, that, falling, ev'n his fall
Shall bring no shame, and shall bequeath no fear!
Does his song cease?—avenge it by the deed,
And make his sepulchre—a nation freed!"
He said, and where the chieftains wrangling sate,54
Led the grand army marshall'd by his song,
Into the hall—and on the wild debate,
King of all kings, A People, pour'd along;
And from the heart of man—the trumpet cry
Smote faction down, "Arms, arms, and Liberty!"—
Meanwhile roll'd on the Saxon's long array;55
On to the wall the surge of slaughter roll'd;
Slow up the mount—slow heaved its labouring way;
The moonlight rested on the domes of gold;
No warder peals alarum from the Keep,
And Death comes mute, as on the realm of Sleep;
When, as their ladders touch'd the ruin'd wall,56
And to the van, high-towering, Harold strode,
Sudden expand the brazen gates, and all
The awful arch as with the lava glow'd;
Torch upon torch the deathful sweep illumes,
The burst of armour and the flash of plumes!
Rings Owaine's shout;—rings Geraint's thunder-cry,57
The Saxon's death-knell in a hundred wars;
And Cador's laugh of triumph;—through the sky
Rush tossing banderolls swift as shooting stars,
Trystan's white lion—Lancelot's cross of red,
And Tudor's[6] standard with the Saxon's head.
And high o'er all, its scalèd splendour rears58
The vengeful emblem of the Dragon Kings.
Full on the Saxon bursts the storm of spears;
Far down the vale the charging whirlwind rings,
While through the ranks its barbèd knightood clave,
All Carduel follows with its roaring wave.
And ever in the van, with robes of white59
And ivory harp, shone swordless Caradoc!
And ever floated in melodious might,
The clear song buoyant o'er the battle shock;
Calm as an eagle when the Olympian King
Sends the red bolt upon the tranquil wing.