Strange, Fiery Crowns Crested the Sea-Cliffs Dun

 Tintagel
by Aubrey De Vere 

When first remote Tintagel met mine eyes
 Between its bastions and the setting sun
 Cloud-pageantries of conflicts lost and won
 Rushed madly, so it seemed, through reddening skies:
 The glooming wave was streaked with sanguine dyes;
 Strange, fiery crowns crested the sea-cliffs dun,
 The caves beneath them, black as Acheron
 Blended their widow-wails with onset cries
 From Bostcastle and Bude. There moved in power
 Arthur, the King! No knightly mail he wore,
 No charger strode. Thundered his battle-axe
 Upon the flying Northmen's iron backs.
 Sunlike that long-haired Briton shone that hour;
 Fast fled the heathen o'er that ship-thronged shore!