[Pg 31]

And lead thee by this little living hand

That death shall make so strong, to that great end

550

Whence it shall lighten like a God's, and strike

Dead the strong heart of battle that would break

Athens; but ye, pray for this land, old men,

That it may bring forth never child on earth

To love it less, for none may more, than we.

CHORUS.

[Str. 1.

Out of the north wind grief came forth,

And the shining of a sword out of the sea.

Yea, of old the first-blown blast blew the prelude of this last,

The blast of his trumpet upon Rhodope.

Out of the north skies full of his cloud,

560

With the clamour of his storms as of a crowd

At the wheels of a great king crying aloud,

At the axle of a strong king's car

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