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But sturdy pikemen pierce th’embattled field, And bear to earth who bears th' opposing shield.
The English bill, dread weapon, hews it way, And Harold's valour almost claims the day. Three foaming coursers under Wuliam slain Add blood to blood on the ensanguined plain : The Duke undaunted, “ dares again the field,” The dauntless monarch scorns alike to yield; His loyal soldiers gallantly contend, While Norman hopes of conquest nearly end; The Kentish phalanx ev'ry onset dares, And fierce invasion pauses and despairs.
O, stratagem! in war, as love, allow'd,
brave; Too oft his living laurels charm the crowd, Who vanquish’d, but for thee, had found a
While fortune, and while justice in the scale,
Alternately our hopes and fears divide :
See fortune turn, by artifice, the tide.
The foe before the English force retreat,
But HAROLD, HAROLD, now supremely great,
flew, Once, twice, and thrice, his ranks the fight
renew. Again he leadş 'em with resistless rage, Again a fruitless war the Normans wage; Another onset ends the doubtful strife, He leads, he falls, and loses but his life! His crown he never lost, who, unsurpast, Maintain'd it like a Briton, to the last. While hand to hand death threaten’d him in
vain, The shaft accurs'd that pierc'd his royal brain Left WILLIAM less a victor than the slain. ..
Il-fame betide the coward hand that drew
Peace to their manes! cou'd th' unequal pen