The Battle of Blore Heath

A fragment.

As stood A lady fair in days of yore, Her bright hair streaming down, Around her waist,—a silver wreath Her feet upon the ground. And well she knew what her hand had done, For madness bade her flee; With fever flushing in her veins, And thoughts of liberty.

O for the cause, the land, the fame? But now the day is clear— Old legends of the Battle thrive, And conquering hearts endear; Amidst the oil and sunlit roots, The victor’s smile is bright; The sheaf, a bond; high far and clear, O swift, o’er woods and height.

• Robert Southey