ays, and brief t

ds that o'er t

ks his geniu

in the land,

helney, from

haven for the

's issue wi

ng purpose i

d the Raven,

ht; nor Dane no

kes his blow; th

t the font his

time, to gain t

ion doubli

fe, for us too

body lame be

marr'd the mind

rth heaven's ae

nd the love that

e's salt ocea

youth's fountai

tural impulse

r command, t

once in m

right divine

rowns the front o

Nature's ro

o the very he

English,' whose life has been vividly sketched by Freeman (Conquest, ch. ii); by Green (English Peop

ther to Guthrun the Dane, when baptize

ISH B

EAST DE

ld Dane, bel

back and s

e was, I

mound the s

d tinkles

e narrow

d Dane! This

thy centuri

wn roots abo

launts his

memento of

se-eyed for

Thy mother-

thee not ag

rom the nor

ld crew to p

d blood and sla

lack terror

thy very n

t only kno

scoop'd thy

foeman's pr

head, and sa

oes guards Eng

nd pass'd to

ee in thine

ith the cir

s corrosive

warrior

earth, and r

let the ch

flowers upo

h flowers,-th

looming-tid

years born

hin the Moth

ST

er 14

the sky that I see? or

fight in the North: yet

brother!-'twas hard!

ard of France, the hide

he razor

priceless,

e Raven at Sta

r the land here I

on her lips came the d

God; then takes his l

ven wall, tough ash-

nd binds, to his c

n stalwart

rd has Har

ield the false

our castle, and

and Holy Rood, arm!'-A

mong his brothers Gyrth th

oath is against thee! t

e lead them, me only

leader m

t Harold s

ppeal, not the d

Edward and En

ners and lances, three a

me's gonfanon round hi

t, o'er the hireling sq

il-clads, and horsemen w

in three

nd hold t

r own wooden wa

renchmen will bre

on! There, Harold a

Thor, true brethren

ards strain at their poles

of Wessex, and one

ighty!'

he Northm

e gather'd and lo

England the pr

ing-clouds tilt, betwe

he challenging thunders

d serpents of flame: g

d tornado:-so now t

hrough hel

l and battl

the reaper in su

horseman and ho

of France up the turf

Englishmen stand, and t

o be, when Englan

firm stood our squares,

'd o'er th

not braver

en yet their sti

long Marath

the Duke,-for the horsem

d he lifted the ventayl

hind!'-and he spurs t

e standard and Harold

s down!' is

the axes!

; the mace circ

he thunderbolt

ofwine is crush'd; yet th

ear ones is left me,

uld seek me to-day wh

ous alone than king

sweetnes

kindness

again the wild w

red wine-cup of

rt to lure them, to shatt

is craft thought Willi

rymen! slow to be roused

death, bent only t

m the bow-st

and hurl

ss yawns for the

imming with hor

sun, long caught i

ent crimson breaks out

the hills and the skies, a

ne hope flamed forth,

the corn-fi

erce arrow-

of France o'er t

is shatter'd; th

and dinting of axe and

blood: and Hatred th

the loudest, the slaught

that!-the cry of

the best o

ith mace an

arrow has crash

Harold the En

for their England!

e death, though the gre

ain in the solid r

and hills of foemen a

the heart

man, where

er blackness uncr

l shroud oversh

wept!-But a wan gra

and fro through the blood-l

xploring the features

inds nothing: but now!-

h mid-midni

e fair!

more, the her

gland: and Ha

of Arlette or Herleva, the tanner's dau

e Derwent, Harold defeated his brother T

pon the hill of battle is so described

onsecrated banner, sen

hosen by the Conqueror for the high-altar of the Abbey

to be; Jun

the nasale or nose-piece s

IN THE

st 2

greenwood

aming

twelve-ant

oldest

solitude

lmost

-beat of

uarry sl

rades o

orn in

King is

ds to th

ugh the

hirlwind

e ran th

ying an

ps the Re

od to t

devil's n

ho!-to th

orms for hi

in the

ch of th

nce was

d vision

ll'd hi

d sacril

p, have

d of you

n him i

art of th

alest

plung

rpent-gla

whom th

eadlong

goes bef

t and t

curses o

hot at h

desecr

Evil-wo

passes-

sion an

orms for hi

in the

ch of th

nce was

shudder

ast through

found the

t in hi

s up in h

rsing, o

enry, or

on, wh

the fel

rimson

soul dis

n to he

endless

rest-ha

harcoale

now was

gh the lo

cass th

ddle i

iest, with

orms for h

in the

ch of th

nce was

he day of his death. He feasted long and high, and then chose out two cro

had sent to Rufus the narrative of an o

voice-a bitter cry-a cry for help-a cry for deliverance-he had been suddenly awakened by a dreadful dream, as of exquisite anguish

his uncle's guest, in the New Forest in May 1100, was my

ce of the New Forest, 'the sanctuary below the mystic Malwood was peculiarly remarkable. . . . You reach

as buried in the chancel as a king; but no religious service or cere

OF E