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The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

His brothers were gleaming in purple and gold;

The sheen of their spears were like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls on Galilee.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings,

And all of Hell he brings;

The eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

Their hearts once heaved, but for ever grew still.

There lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

Through there rolled not the breath of his pride:

The foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

Cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings,

And all of Hell he brings;

The eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

Their hearts once heaved, but for ever grew still.

There lay the rider distorted and pale,

With dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;

The tents were all silent, the banners alone,

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings,

And all of Hell he brings;

The eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

Their hearts once heaved, but for ever grew still.

Angel of Death

Angel of Death…