Just as the men of Alfred forestalled and fought the invading Danes with bloody shields, tattered banners and steel worn hearts, defending the white dragon, the standard of their people. We Englishmen stand here today, over a thousand calendars ahead, as the product of blood and iron, forged in the anvil of hounding champions, through relentless struggle and the inherited iron will of our forefathers.

Just as Richard the Lionheart with great risk and fortuity, took up the cross to bear, departing Messina for Acre, where his vassal’s men quelled their foes in the Battle of Arsuf, where greater men had fallen before him and shall fall once again, in the decades and aeons to lie ahead, like an arrow in the dark on that fateful day in 1192.

And just as King Æthelstan, on that mighty day at the Battlefield of Brunanburh “the great battle”, defeated the Northmen invaders, with a pyrrhic victory were their bodies fit for the sport of crows, with not one last sinew laid to waste as the bodies piled high, the Mercian’s filled their bellies full of mead and golden ale on that night, roaring lusty hymns in honour of that once fateful king, and the rout of Guthfrithsons men, by the glory and conquest of English steel.

And this kingdom was born, acres and valleys she marches ahead, by the fruit and the profit of an Englishmen’s will.

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