... hope that day? Did Angels help the just? Their falling blood, Say, leaped it up once more, each drop a man Their phalanx to replenish? Backward driven, Again that multitudinous foe returned With clangour dire; futile, again fell back Down dashed, like hailstone showers from palace halls Where princes feast secure. Astonishment Smote them at last. Through all those serried ranks, Compact so late, sudden confusions ran Like lines divergent through a film of ice Stamped on by armed heel, or ... — Legends of the Saxon Saints • Aubrey de Vere
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