95 Ere the ruddy fun be fet, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring, (Weave the crimson web of war) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our Friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of fate we tread, Wading thro' th' enfanguin'd field : Gondula, and Geira, spread O'er the youthful King your fhield. We the reins to flaughter give, Ours to kill, and ours to fpare: Spite of danger, he shall live, (Weave the crimfon web of war.) They, whom once the defart-beach Pent within its bleak domain, Soon their ample fway fhall ftretch O'er the plenty of the plain. Low the dauntlefs Earl is laid, Gor'd with many a gaping wound; Fate demands a nobler head; Soon a King fhall bite the ground. Long his lofs fhall Eirin weep, Ne'er again his likeness fee; Long her ftrains in forrow fteep, Strains of Immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the fun. Sifters, weave the web of death; Sifters, ceafe, the work is done. Hail Hail the task, and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph fing! Joy to the victorious bands; Triumph to the younger King. Mortal, thou that hear'ft the tale, Far and wide the notes prolong. Sisters, hence with fpurs of speed: Each her thundering faulchion wield; Each beftride her fable fteed. Hurry, hurry to the field. THE |