Chapter III

Hearing his high behest, Swells every Briton's breast, Red as their lance in rest Their faces glowing; See, through the Saxon band, Many a strong right hand Once and again strikes home, As in their might they come, A broad lane mowing. Britons from far and near Loud raise their voice in prayer, "In this our hour of need To Thee, O God, we plead, Send help from heaven! Guard now our fatherland, Strengthen each Briton's hand, And now on Rhuddlan's strand Be victory given."