Centwin of the vale arose, he seized the massy spear; terrible was his
voice, great was his strength; he hurled the rocks into the sea, and
broke the strong oaks of the forest. Slow in the race as the minutes
of impatience. His spear, like the fury of a thunderbolt, swept down
whole armies; his enemies melted before him, like the stones of hail
at the approach of the sun.
Awake, O Eldulph! thou that sleepest on the white mountain, with the
fairest of women. No more pursue the dark-brown wolf: arise from the
mossy bank of the falling waters; let thy garments be stained in
blood, and the streams of life discolour thy girdle; let thy flowing
hair be hid in a helmet, and thy beauteous countenance be writhed into
terror.
Egward, keeper of the barks, arise like the roaring waves of the sea:
pursue the black companies of the enemy.
Ye Saxons, who live in the air and glide over the stars, act like
yourselves.
Like the murmuring voice of the Severn, swelled with rain, the Saxons
moved along; like a blazing star the sword of Kenrick shone among the
Britons; Tenyan bled at his feet; like the red lightning of heaven he
burnt up the ranks of his enemy.
Centwin raged like a wild boar. Tatward sported in blood; armies
melted at his stroke. Eldulph was a flaming vapour; destruction sat
upon his sword.
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