Men of Harlech (Oliphant, 1862)

Verse 1 Hark! I hear the foe advancing, Barbed steeds are proudly prancing, Helmets in the sunbeams glancing Glitter through the trees. Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming? See ye not their falchions gleaming, While their pennons gaily streaming Flutter in the breeze? From the rocks rebounding, Let the war cry sounding Summon all at Cambria's call, The haughty foe surrounding, Men of Harlech, on to glory! See, your banner famed in story Waves these burning words before ye "Britain scorns to yield!"

Verse 2 'Mid the fray, see dead and dying, Friend and foe together lying; All around, the arrows flying, Scatter sudden death! Frighten'd steeds are wildly neighing, Brazen trumpets hoarsely braying, Wounded men for mercy praying With their parting breath! See! they're in disorder! Comrades, keep close order! Ever they shall rue the day They ventured o'er the border! Now the Saxon flies before us! Vict'ry's banner floateth o'er us! Raise the loud exulting chorus "Britain wins the field,"