Here they urge their tempest force!
Nor camp nor forest turns their course:
Their breath the shrieking peasants yield
O'er all the desolated field.
But lo, the daring hosts engage!
Dauntless hearts and flaming rage;
And, ere the direful morn is o'er,
Mangled limbs and reeking gore,
And crimson torrents whelm the ground,
Wild destruction stalking round;
Fainting warriors gasp for breath,
Or struggle in the toils of death.
Where the embattled fortress rose,
(Gwenystrad's bulwark from the foes,)
Fierce conflicting heroes meet--
Groans the earth beneath their feet.
I mark, amidst the rolling flood,
Where hardy warriors stain'd with blood
Drop their blunt arms, and join the dead,
Grey billows curling o'er their head:
Mangled with wounds, and vainly brave,
At once they sink beneath the wave.
Lull'd to everlasting rest,
With folded arms and gory breast--
Cold in death, and ghastly pale,
Chieftains press the reeky vale,
Who late, amidst their kindred throng,
Prepar'd the feast, and join'd the song;
Or like the sudden tempest rose,
And hurl'd destruction on the foes.
Warriors I saw who led the fray,
Stern desolation strew'd their way;
Aloft the glitt'ring blade they bore,
Their garments hung with clotted gore.
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