In Dorian mood when he would sing, Timotheus the charmer, 'Tis said the famous lyre would bring All listeners into armor: It woke in Alexander rage For war, and nought would slake it, Unless he could the world engage, And his by conquest make it. Timotheus Of Miletus Could strongly sing To rouse the King Of Macedon, Heroic one, Till, in his ire And manly fire, For shield and weapon rising, He went, the foe chastising.
For what God drives, that ever goes,-- So sang courageous Judith; No one can such as He oppose; There prospers what He broodeth. Who has from God a martial mood, Through all resistance breaking, Can prove himself 'gainst heroes good, On foes a vengeance taking. Drums, when we droop; Stand fast, my troop! Let dart and sabre The air belabor; Give them no heed, But be agreed That flight be a breach of honor: Of that be hearty scorner.
Although a part, as haps alway, Will faintly take to fleeing, A lion's heart have I to-day For Kaiser Henry's seeing. The wheat springs forth, the chaff's behind;[12] Strike harder, then, and braver;
[Footnote 12: This was first said by Rudolph of Erlach at the Battle of Laupen, in 1339, fought between citizens of Berne and the neighboring lords. The great array of the nobles caused the rear ranks of the Bernese to shrink. "Good!" cried Erlach, "the chaff is separated from the wheat! Cowards will not share the victory of the brave." --Zschokke's _History of Switzerland_, p. 48, Shaw's translation.]
Perhaps they all will change their mind, So, brothers, do not waver! Kyrie eleison! Pidi, Pom, Pom, Pom, Alarum beat, There's no retreat; Wilt soon be slashed, Be pierced and gashed: But none of these things heeding, The foe, too, set a-bleeding.
Many good surgeons have we here, Again to heal us ready; With God's help, then, be of good cheer, The Pagans grow unsteady: Let not thy courage sink before A foe already flying; Revenge itself shall give thee more, And hearten it, if dying. Drom, Drari, Drom, Kyrie eleison! Strike, thrust,--for we Must victors be; Let none fall out, Keep order stout; Close to my side, Comrade, abide! Be grace of God revealed now, And help us hold the field now!
God doth Himself encamp us round, Himself the tight inspiring; The foe no longer stands his ground, On every side retiring; Ye brothers, now set boldly on The hostile ranks!--they waver,-- They break before us and are gone,-- Praise be to God the Saver! Drom, Drari, Drom, Come, brother, come! Drums, make a noise! My troops, rejoice! Help now pursue And thrust and hew; Pillage restrain,-- The spoils remain In reach of every finger, But not a foe wilt linger.