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Rough with the gore of Pictish kings:
Ev'n now, with arching sculpture crown'd,
By the Same.
BOUND for holy Palestine,
Nimbly we brush'd the level brine,
O'er the wave our weapons play'd,
"From distant towers, with anxious eye, "The radiant range of shield and lance "Down Damascus' hills advance :
"From Sion's turrets as afar
"Ye ken the march of Europe's war!
"Saladin, thou paynim king
"From Albion's isle revenge we bring!
"On Acon's spiry citadel,
"Though to the gale thy banners swell,
"Pictur'd with the silver moon;
"England shall end thy glory soon!
"In vain, to break our firm
"Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray : "Those sounds our rising fury fan: "English Richard in the van. "On to victory we go,
"A vaunting infidel the foe."
And swept the wire with glowing hand.
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd,
Echoed the prophetic strain.
Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
That gave a murther'd Saviour birth:
Thus the solemn song renew'd:
"Lo, the toilsome voyage past, "Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last! ❝ Object of our holy vow,
"We tread the Tyrian vallies now.
"Hail Cavalry, thou mountain hoar,
"By mocking pagans rudely trod,
"Bereft of every awful rite,
"And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so
"For thee, from Britain's distant coast,
"Lo, Richard leads his faithful host!
"Aloft in his heroic hand,
"Blazing like the beacon's brand,
“O'er the far-affrighted fields,
"Resistless Kaliburn he wields.
"Proud Saracen, pollute no more
"The shrines by martyrs built of yore! "From each wild mountain's trackless crown
"In vain the gloomy castles frown:
"Thy battering engines, huge and high,
"On giant-wheels harsh thunders grate.
"We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt,
"Nor magic charms, nor fiends of hell,
"Soon on thy battlements divine
"Ye Barons, to the sun unfold
"Our Cross with crimson wove and gold!"