With thundering wheels the golden war-wains run As wild fire leaps upon the gabled place, And shining warriors cry the White Christ's grace Against the harm the heathen gods have done; Hate's burning trumpets shriek the triumph won, The bastions flame, and with uplifted mace On rides the leader of the raven race, Swart, giant-thewed, the Aesir's shaggy son. But Aidan prays within his lowly cell, And paler than the moon upon a mere A winding wood-smoke folds the rock from sight; And while they hunt the vanished citadel Through many a misted mile, the wolf-men hear Far ringing harps on Bamborough's starry height. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINE OF NIGHT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE GORSE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON CALIBAN IN THE COAL MINES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER TO -- OCCASIONED BY HIS POEM ON THE SUN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE CHILD'S GRAVE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |