EDWARD BLACKADDER
I LOITER here within this ancienttown—Long time agone the rising hope of France,The seed of future empire—as in trance,'Mid storied scenes, I wander up and down.Here are the grass-grown walls which bore the frownOf death-disgorging cannon long ago,And wide the gleaming basin spreads below,Where thunder-bearing ships no more are known.Yea, death hath reaped his harvest in this place;Along these shores have hundreds bled and diedTo save this jewel for the Gallic crown.Stern fate ordained it for another race:The sturdy Saxon tills yon meadows wide;Peace rules o'er all; war's trumpet sleeps unblown.
I LOITER here within this ancienttown—Long time agone the rising hope of France,The seed of future empire—as in trance,'Mid storied scenes, I wander up and down.Here are the grass-grown walls which bore the frownOf death-disgorging cannon long ago,And wide the gleaming basin spreads below,Where thunder-bearing ships no more are known.Yea, death hath reaped his harvest in this place;Along these shores have hundreds bled and diedTo save this jewel for the Gallic crown.Stern fate ordained it for another race:The sturdy Saxon tills yon meadows wide;Peace rules o'er all; war's trumpet sleeps unblown.
I LOITER here within this ancienttown—Long time agone the rising hope of France,The seed of future empire—as in trance,'Mid storied scenes, I wander up and down.
I LOITER here within this ancienttown—
Long time agone the rising hope of France,
The seed of future empire—as in trance,
'Mid storied scenes, I wander up and down.
Here are the grass-grown walls which bore the frownOf death-disgorging cannon long ago,And wide the gleaming basin spreads below,Where thunder-bearing ships no more are known.
Here are the grass-grown walls which bore the frown
Of death-disgorging cannon long ago,
And wide the gleaming basin spreads below,
Where thunder-bearing ships no more are known.
Yea, death hath reaped his harvest in this place;Along these shores have hundreds bled and diedTo save this jewel for the Gallic crown.Stern fate ordained it for another race:The sturdy Saxon tills yon meadows wide;Peace rules o'er all; war's trumpet sleeps unblown.
Yea, death hath reaped his harvest in this place;
Along these shores have hundreds bled and died
To save this jewel for the Gallic crown.
Stern fate ordained it for another race:
The sturdy Saxon tills yon meadows wide;
Peace rules o'er all; war's trumpet sleeps unblown.