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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536862" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Gwin King of Norway</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, kings, and listen to my song:<br>When Gwin, the son of Nore,<br>Over the nations of the North<br>His cruel sceptre bore;<br>The nobles of the land did feed<br>Upon the hungry poor;<br>They tear the poor man's lamb, and drive<br>The needy from their door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`The land is desolate; our wives<br>And children cry for bread;<br>Arise, and pull the tyrant down!<br>Let Gwin be humblèd!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gordred the giant rous'd himself<br>From sleeping in his cave;<br>He shook the hills, and in the clouds<br>The troubl'd banners wave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath them roll'd, like tempests black,<br>The num'rous sons of blood;<br>Like lions' whelps, roaring abroad,<br>Seeking their nightly food.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down Bleron's hills they dreadful rush,<br>Their cry ascends the clouds;<br>The trampling horse and clanging arms<br>Like rushing mighty floods!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their wives and children, weeping loud,<br>Follow in wild array,<br>Howling like ghosts, furious as wolves<br>In the bleak wintry day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`Pull down the tyrant to the dust,<br>Let Gwin be humblèd,'<br>They cry, `and let ten thousand lives<br>Pay for the tyrant's head.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From tow'r to tow'r the watchmen cry,<br>`O Gwin, the son of Nore,<br>Arouse thyself! the nations, black<br>Like clouds, come rolling o'er!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gwin rear'd his shield, his palace shakes,<br>His chiefs come rushing round;<br>Each, like an awful thunder cloud,<br>With voice of solemn sound:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like rearèd stones around a grave<br>They stand around the King;<br>Then suddenly each seiz'd his spear,<br>And clashing steel does ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The husbandman does leave his plough<br>To wade thro' fields of gore;<br>The merchant binds his brows in steel,<br>And leaves the trading shore;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shepherd leaves his mellow pipe,<br>And sounds the trumpet shrill;<br>The workman throws his hammer down<br>To heave the bloody bill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like the tall ghost of Barraton<br>Who sports in stormy sky,<br>Gwin leads his host, as black as night<br>When pestilence does fly,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With horses and with chariots--<br>And all his spearmen b 1000 old<br>March to the sound of mournful song,<br>Like clouds around him roll'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gwin lifts his hand--the nations halt;<br>`Prepare for war!' he cries--<br>Gordred appears!--his frowning brow<br>Troubles our northern skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The armies stand, like balances<br>Held in th' Almighty's hand;--<br>`Gwin, thou hast fill'd thy measure up:<br>Thou'rt swept from out the land.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now the raging armies rush'd<br>Like warring mighty seas;<br>The heav'ns are shook with roaring war,<br>The dust ascends the skies!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earth smokes with blood, and groans and shakes<br>To drink her children's gore,<br>A sea of blood; nor can the eye<br>See to the trembling shore!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on the verge of this wild sea<br>Famine and death doth cry;<br>The cries of women and of babes<br>Over the field doth fly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The King is seen raging afar,<br>With all his men of might;<br>Like blazing comets scattering death<br>Thro' the red fev'rous night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath his arm like sheep they die,<br>And groan upon the plain;<br>The battle faints, and bloody men<br>Fight upon hills of slain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now death is sick, and riven men<br>Labour and toil for life;<br>Steed rolls on steed, and shield on shield,<br>Sunk in this sea of strife!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The god of war is drunk with blood;<br>The earth doth faint and fail;<br>The stench of blood makes sick the heav'ns;<br>Ghosts glut the throat of hell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O what have kings to answer for<br>Before that awful throne;<br>When thousand deaths for vengeance cry,<br>And ghosts accusing groan!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like blazing comets in the sky<br>That shake the stars of light,<br>Which drop like fruit unto the earth<br>Thro' the fierce burning night;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like these did Gwin and Gordred meet,<br>And the first blow decides;<br>Down from the brow unto the breast<br>Gordred his head divides!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gwin fell: the sons of Norway fled,<br>All that remain'd alive;<br>The rest did fill the vale of death,<br>For them the eagles strive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The river Dorman roll'd their blood<br>Into the northern sea;<br>Who mourn'd his sons, and overwhelm'd<br>The pleasant south country.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Blake">William Blake</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=536862" data-title="Gwin King of Norway de William Blake" data-description="Come, kings, and listen to my song:
When Gwin, the son of Nore,
Over the nations of the North
His cruel sceptre bore;
The nobles of the land did feed
Upon the hungry poor;
They tear the poor man's lamb, and drive
The needy from their door.

`The l..."></div>
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