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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519715" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Norman Horse-Shoe</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. <br>Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds,<br>And hammers din, and anvil sounds,<br>And armourers, with iron toil,<br>Barb many a steed for battle's broil,<br>Foul fall the hand which bends the steel<br>Around the courser's thundering heel,<br>That e'er shall dint a sable wound<br>On fair Glamorgan's velvet ground!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn,<br>Was heard afar the bugle-horn;<br>And forth, in banded pomp and pride,<br>Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride,<br>They swore, their banners broad should gleam,<br>In crimson light, on Rymny's stream;<br>They vowed, Caerphili's sod should feel<br>The Norman charger's spurning heel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>And sooth they swore - the sun arose,<br>And Rymny's wave with crimson glows;<br>For Clare's red banner, floating wide,<br>Roll'd down the stream to Severn's tide!<br>And sooth they vow'd - the trampled green<br>Show'd where hot Neville's charge had been:<br>In every sable hoof-tramp stood<br>A Norman horseman's curdling blood!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>Old Chepstow's brides may curse the toil,<br>That arm'd stout Clare for Cambrian broil;<br>Their orphans long the art may rue,<br>For Neville's war-horse forged the shoe.<br>No more the stamp of armed steed<br>Shall dint Glamorgan's velvet mead;<br>Nor trace be there, in early spring,<br>Save of the Fairies' emerald ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519715" data-title="The Norman Horse-Shoe de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="I. 
Red glows the forge in Striguil's bounds,
And hammers din, and anvil sounds,
And armourers, with iron toil,
Barb many a steed for battle's broil,
Foul fall the hand which bends the steel
Around the courser's thundering heel,
That e'er shall di..."></div>
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