Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/316

 292 MEREDITH

Blow, Wind, from the field ! Bran's Head is the Briton's shield.

Beam, Star, in the west !

Bright burns the Head of Bran the Blest.

��Crimson-footed like the stork,

From great ruts of slaughter, Warriors of the Golden Torque

Cross the lifting water. Princes seven, enchaining hands,

Bear the live Head homeward. Lo! it speaks, and still commands;

Gazing far out foamward.

Fiery words of lightning sense

Down the hollows thunder; Forest hostels know not whence

Comes the speech, and wonder. City-castles, on the steep

Where the faithful Severn House at midnight, hear in sleep

Laughter under heaven.

Lilies, swimming on the mere,

In the castle shadow, Under draw their heads, and Fear

Walks the misty meadow; Tremble not, it is not Death

Pledging dark espousal : 'Tis the Head of endless breath,

Challenging carousal !

�� �