Round the rough Castle shrilly sung
The whirling blast, and wildly flung
On each tall rampart’s thundering side
The surges of the tumbling tide:
When Arthur ranged his red cross ranks
On conscious Camlan’s crimson banks.”
Wharton, The Grave of King Arthur.
“On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne
This sore battayle was doomed to be;
Where many a knight cry’d ‘Well-a-waye!’