HACON'S LAST BATTLE.

I.

All was over: day was ending
As the foeman turned and fled.
Gloomy red
Glowed the angry sun descending;
While round Hacon's dying bed,
Tears and songs of triumph blending,
Told how fast the conqueror bled

II.

"Raise me," said the King. We raised him--
Not to ease his desperate pain;
That were vain!
"Strong our foe was--but we faced him
Show me that red field again."
Then, with reverent hands, we placed him
High above the bloody plain.

III.

Silent gazed he; mute we waited,
Kneeling round-a faithful few,
Staunch and true,--
Whilst above, with thunder freighted,
Wild the boisterous north wind blew,