Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit,
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that ye trod;
For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
Who sat in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
III.
It was about the noon of a glorious day in June,
That we saw their banner's dance, and their cuirasses shine:
And the Man of Blood was there, with his long essenced hair,
And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine.
IV.
Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword,
The general rode along us, to form us to the fight,
When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled into a shout,
Among the godless horsemen, upon the tyrant's right.
V.
And, hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore,
The cry of battle rises along their charging line!
For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws!
For Charles, king of England, and Rupert of the Rhine!
VI.
The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums,
His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall;
They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes, close your ranks,
For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall.