GWIN, KING OF NORWAY.

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OME, kings, and listen to my song.---
When Gwin, the son of Nore,

Over the nations of the North

His cruel sceptre bore ;

The nobles of the land did feed

Upon the hungry poor;

They tear the poor man's lamb, and drive The needy from their door.

"The land is desolate! our wives
And children cry for bread;
Arise and pull the tyrant down!
Let Gwin be humblèd!"

Gordred the giant roused himself
From sleeping in his cave ;

He shook the hills, and in the clouds
The troubled banners wave.

Beneath them rolled, like tempests black,

The numerous sons of blood;
Like lions' whelps, roaring abroad,
Seeking their nightly food.

Down Bleron's hills they dreadful rush,
Their cry ascends the clouds;

The trampling horse and clanging arms
Like rushing mighty floods!

Their wives and children, weeping loud,
Follow in wild array,

Howling like ghosts, furious as wolves
In the bleak wintry day.

"Pull down the tyrant to the dust,

Let Gwin be humbled,"

They cry,

"and let ten thousand lives!

Pay for the tyrant's head!"

From tower to tower the watchmen cry:

O Gwin, the son of Nore,

Arouse thyself! the nations, black

Like clouds, came rolling o'er ! "

Gwin reared his shield, his palace shakes,

His chiefs come rushing round; Each like an awful thunder-cloud

With voice of solemn sound:

Like reared stones around a grave
They stand around the king;
Then suddenly each seized his spear,
And clashing steel does ring.

The husbandman does leave his plough
To wade through fields of gore;

The merchant binds his brows in steel,
And leaves the trading shore ;

The shepherd leaves his mellow pipe,
And sounds the trumpet shrill;

The workman throws his hammer down
To heave the bloody bill.

Like the tall ghost of Barraton

Who sports in stormy sky,

Gwin leads his host as black as night
When pestilence does fly,

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With horses and with chariots

And all his spearmen bold
March to the sound of mournful song,
Like clouds around him rolled.

Gwin lifts his hand—the nations halt;

Prepare for war!" he cries. Gordred appears !—his frowning brow Troubles our northern skies.

The armies stand, like balances
Held in the Almighty's hand-

(( Gwin, thou hast filled thy measure up:
Thou'rt swept from out the land."

And now the raging armies rushed

Like warring mighty seas;

The heavens are shook with roaring war,

The dust ascends the skies!

Earth smokes with blood, and groans and shakes To drink her children's gore,

A sea of blood; nor can the eye

See to the trembling shore.

And on the verge of this wild sea
Famine and death do cry ;

The cries of women and of babes
Over the field do fly.

The king is seen raging afar,
With all his men of might;

Like blazing comets scattering death
Through the red feverous night.

Beneath his arm like sheep they die,
And groan upon the plain;
The battle faints, and bloody men
Fight upon hills of slain.

Now death is sick, and riven men

Labour and toil for life;

Steed rolls on steed, and shield on shield,

Sunk in this sea of strife!

The god of War is drunk with blood,
The earth doth faint and fail;

The stench of blood makes sick the heavens
Ghosts glut the throat of hell!

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