All of the Old Kings Are wakened from their sleep, Arthur out of Avalon, Ogier from the deep, Redbeard from his Dragon-Rock, Sigurd from his fen . . . @3"Is it time,"@1 they rise and cry, @3"To lead our hosts again?"@1 They have donned their winged helms, They would rise and reign, The young king Sebastian, The old king Charlemagne, Harold with his great bow, Roland with his horn . . . Men have heard their horses' hoofs Many a scarlet morn! The Old Kings have arisen . . . Where the hosts advance Redbeard cries his Germans on, Karle cries out for France, Up and down the battle-field Ghostly armies beat, Stilly down the gray sea glides Olaf's shadow-fleet. . . . Up and down the red fields Men have seen them go, Seen the long plumes on the wind, Seen the pennons flow; Harry out of Agincourt Sends his bowmen wide, Joan that has forgiven them Battles at their side. . . . Christ, king of Paradise, Hasten with Thy hosts, Angels all in silver mail, Saints and blessed ghosts; Cry the long swords sheathed again, Cry the pennons furled, Lest under Ragnarok Lie the shattered world! |