What have I more to tell you?
A good twelve hundred men
Made onset sore upon them,
again and yet again.
The strangers cool’d their fury
by wounding many a one—
No truce could be between them;
one saw the life blood run
What have I more to tell you?
A good twelve hundred men
Made onset sore upon them,
again and yet again.
The strangers cool’d their fury
by wounding many a one—
No truce could be between them;
one saw the life blood run