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Above the flaming tide, I ween,
Scarce half the charger's neck was seen;
For he was barded[1] from counter to tail,
And the rider was armed complete in mail;
Never heavier man and horse
Stemmed a midnight torrent's force;
The warrior's very plume, I say,
Was daggled by the dashing spray;
Yet through good heart, and our Ladye's grace,
At length he gained the landing place.
Scarce half the charger's neck was seen;
For he was barded[1] from counter to tail,
And the rider was armed complete in mail;
Never heavier man and horse
Stemmed a midnight torrent's force;
The warrior's very plume, I say,
Was daggled by the dashing spray;
Yet through good heart, and our Ladye's grace,
At length he gained the landing place.
XXX.
Now Bowden Moor the march-man won,
And sternly shook his plumed head,
As glanced his eye o'er Halidon[2] ;
For on his soul the slaughter red,
Now Bowden Moor the march-man won,
And sternly shook his plumed head,
As glanced his eye o'er Halidon[2] ;
For on his soul the slaughter red,