Of far other mould than the shepherd swain.
And far other herds, and far other flocks
Than shepherds may feed, lie hid by these rocks.
He doubts not but all who a spear could wield
Have fall’n in the strife of one bloody field.
Onward he presses, and, blindly led,
Go his Norsemen, with hopes of plunder fed.
The current was rapid, the stream was deep,
And the cumbered waters foamed high and flashed,
As horsemen and foot, from the shore so steep,