Arm, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all come in.
Keep your ranks close, and now your honours win.
Behold from yonder hill the foe appears:
Bows, bills, glaves, arrows, shields, and spears:
Like a dark wood he comes, or a tempest pouring:
Oh, view the wings of horse the meadows scouring.
The van-guard marches bravely. Hark! the drums, 
                                     Dub, dub.
They meet, they meet; now the battle comes.
  See how the arrows fly
  That darken all the sky;
  Hark how the trumpets sound;
  Hark how the hills rebound!
                                 Tara, tara.
Hark how the horse charge! in boys, in!
The battle totters; now the wounds begin;
    Oh, how they cry,
    Oh, how they die!
Room for the valiant Memnon armed with thunder!
  See how he breaks the ranks asunder.
They fly, they fly! Eumenes has the chase
And brave Polybius makes good his place.
    To the plains, to the woods,
    To the rocks, to the floods,
  They fly for succour. Follow, follow, follow!
  Hark how the soldiers hollow!      Hey, hey!
    Brave Diocles is dead,
    And all his soldiers fled.
    The battle’s won and lost,
    That many a life hath cost.