University of Virginia Library

The sons of Craven now are happier far,—
No Scottish warriors wage the cruel war,

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As when the sons of Gargrave sallied forth
To meet the fierce invaders from the north;
When on the shields the battle-axes rung,
Spears broke, helms cleft, and many a bow was strung!
Death through Northumbria's fields had marked their way,
And mothers wept where lifeless husbands lay;
Friends, kindred, lovers, on the earth expired,
Their dwellings plundered, and their churches fired;
The holy crucifix away was borne,
And from the shrines the sacred relics torn;
The sacramental wine they rudely quaffed,
Smiled o'er the flames, and at destruction laughed!