The Final Stand Of Athelgome Poem by Christian Muller

So stirred by youthful words, the king arose
With axe and shield to face the final fray.
With fury of his youth. He broke through rows
Of crimson shields. And to their foe's dismay
The old man carved with ease their vanguard banks.
And when the wighes saw their fair king-at-arms.
A second wind flowed through their battered ranks.
'Come forth you pups! The grey wolf so alarms
Our fearsome foe'. With comely might they ate
Into the hordes. And sang as they so slew
Of sleeping lands across the sea. The weight
Of wighes that came before endowed their hue.
So brave was their last bitter stand. But dead
Now lies the comely king, beneath the fields of dread.