Ii

'Death's my neighbour,' Quoth Bran the Blest; 'Christian labour Brings Christian rest. From the trunk sever The Head of Bran, That which never Has bent to man! 'That which never To men has bowed Shall live ever To shame the shroud: Shall live ever To face the foe; Sever it, sever, And with one blow.

'Be it written, That all I wrought Was for Britain, In deed and thought: Be it written, That while I die, Glory to Britain! Is my last cry.

'Glory to Britain! Death echoes me round. Glory to Britain! The world shall resound. Glory to Britain! In ruin and fall, Glory to Britain! Is heard over all.'