his native soil. Still
the task was no easy one. They were very numerous, fierce, and brave,
and trained to arms.

The aged bards of Wales struck their harps to encourage the warriors to
strive bravely in the fight.

It was, however, discovered that many recreant knights had joined the
forces of the Pagans; they and their followers being habited in armour
little differing from that of the Champion of Wales and those knights
who had accompanied him from abroad.

Summoning his warriors around him, he addressed them in a speech which
encouraged and animated their valour to the highest pitch. Thus he
concluded:--

"Then follow me, my gallant warriors! I will give the signal for the
onset, which will lay thousands of our foemen low; and see, for my
ensign, I do wear upon my burgonet this leek, which will, if we gain the
victory, be ever after held in honour throughout Wales, and on this
first day of March be worn by all Welshmen in commemoration of our
victory."

Thrice struck the bards their harps, while cheers, loud and long,
replied to the speech, each warrior of Wales forthwith plucking up a
great leek, and placing it on his casque, or head-piece, so that in the
thickest light friends might be known from foes.

Now there stepped forth a bard, and struck a mournful strain.

"Sad, sad are the notes I sing,
And sad the news I bring,
For many a gallant knight, and many a warrior bold,
Will fall to-day,
And turn to clay,
Before swift time grows old.
The noblest and the best before the eve must die,
Ere the fell Pagan host are taught to turn and fly."

These words struck the gallant old Champion's ears. He had never at any
time thought little of his own prowess, while he, like a true patriot,
had always been ready to sacrifice himself for the good of his country.
He resolved, accordingly, should the tide of battle set strong against
his followers, to charge onward amid the hosts of the enemy, and to fall
nobly among them, knowing that his friends, for the love they bore him,
would, for the sake of recovering his body, charge into the midst of the
foe, and assuredly retrieve the fortunes of the day.

With a cheerful voice, as if he had been giving orders for the
commencement of a tournament, the noble old Champion gave the promised
signal for the onset. Furiously charged the army of Welshmen. Bravely
were they met by their Pagan foes, who, with valour worthy of a better
cause, charged in re