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Poems

by R. E. E. Warburton

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The evening wanes, and the plundering Danes
Have hied to their camp with the prey,
To rest from the fight and to revel by night,
On the spoil they have taken by day.
Loud was the glee and the revelry,
And the riot in ev'ry tent;
In wasteful excess and licentiousness,
Their nights were ever spent.
So great was the scorn, by those Heathens borne,
'Gainst the Saxon's scattered band,
From the feast was spared not a single guard,
To warn when a foe was at hand.