Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/45

 
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 thro' 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,
 
With horses and with chariots—
And all his spearmen bold
March to the sound of mournful song,
Like clouds around him roll'd.
 
Gwin lifts his hand—the nations halt;
"Prepare for war," he cries—
Gordred appears!—his frowning brow
Troubles our northern skies.