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.