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Walter Scott - The Norman Horse-Shoe
Work rating: Low

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 dint a sable wound
On fair Glamorgan`s velvet ground!

II.
From Chepstow`s towers, ere dawn of morn,
Was heard afar the bugle-horn;
And forth, in banded pomp and pride,
Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride,
They swore, their banners broad should gleam,
In crimson light, on Rymny`s stream;
They vowed, Caerphili`s sod should feel
The Norman charger`s spurning heel.

III.
And sooth they swore — the sun arose,
And Rymny`s wave with crimson glows;
For Clare`s red banner, floating wide,
Roll`d down the stream to Severn`s tide!
And sooth they vow`d — the trampled green
Show`d where hot Neville`s charge had been:
In every sable hoof-tramp stood
A Norman horseman`s curdling blood!

IV.
Old Chepstow`s brides may curse the toil,
That arm`d stout Clare for Cambrian broil;
Their orphans long the art may rue,
For Neville`s war-horse forged the shoe.
No more the stamp of armed steed
Shall dint Glamorgan`s velvet mead;
Nor trace be there, in early spring,
Save of the Fairies` emerald ring.
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