POE TRY.
THE WEAPONED MAN.*
V' The freeman . . . ... was the weaponed man,' who alone bore sword and shield."—green's History. J WHEN oak woods grew where barley waves
And bare downs faced the sky, Untrodden save by winter wolves, Where now great cities lie, The fathers of our Saxon folk (Sires of our blood and bone) Set up their thorpes and homesteads, Self-centred and alone.
They were not over-masterful Nor braggart in their pride, But the freeman's badge was the spear in band And the war-sword at his side; And when the arrow-splinter came To muster great and small, The man who stood unarmed that day Was weakling, priest, or thrall.
When we waged the War of a Hundred Years Or marched to Flodden fray, Small need was there for time or toil To marshal our array.
Each yeoman's chimney held its bow, Each manor, jack and spear, And every churl could handle steel To guard his goods and gear.
Now cities gather them goods and gold With ships on every sea, And the Guilds of Craft wax fat and proud And every hind is free ; And no man bears a weaponed belt Save he whose trade is war, Yet—weaponless men are thralls at heart As -it was in the days of yore. CYMRIC AP EINION.
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