Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/38

 14 JOHN FLETCHER

Like a daric wood he comes, or tempest pouring; O view the wings of horse the meadows scouring! The vanguard marches bravely. Hark, the drums !

Dub, dub !

They meet, they meet, and now the battle comes: See how the arrows fly That darken all the sky ! Hark how the trumpets sound ! Hark how the hills rebound

Tara, tara, tara, tara, tara!

Hark how the horses charge ! in, boys ! boys, in ! The battle totters; now the wounds begin:

O how they cry !

O how they die ! Room for the valiant Memnon, armed with thunder !

See how he breaks the ranks asunder ! They fly ! they fly ! Eumenes has the chase, And brave Polybius makes good his place :

To the plains, to the woods,

To the rocks, to the floods, They fly for succour. Follow, follow, follow ! Hark how the soldiers hollow !

Hey, hey!

Brave Diocles is dead, And all his soldiers fled ; The battle's won, and lost, That many a life hath cost.

�� �