Of arrows round them flew.
Then wi’ their men, these valiant twain
Rush’d down the green hill’s side,
And ’mongst their foes, wi’ mortal blows
Their hands in bluid they dy’d.
Like two huge rocks on Bramor’s brow,
When loossen’d fra’ their bed,
That thunder down and overthrow
The pines which crown the glade.
Thus they, thro’ ranks, the Earl of March