Ald. O Edith, art thou here? O Harold, Harold[more. Our Harold-we shall never see him Edith. For there was more than -ister in my kiss, [not love them, And so the saints were wroth. I canFor they are Norman saints— and yet I should

They are so much holier than their harlot's son

With whom they play'd their game against the king!

Ald. The king is slain, the kingdom overthrown!

Edith. No matter!

Ald. How no matter, Harold slain? -I cannot find his body. O help me thou!

O Edith, if I ever wrought against thee,
Forgive me thou, and help me here!
Edith.
No matter!

Ald. Not help me, nor forgive me?
Edith.
So thou saidest.

Ald. I say it now, forgive me!
Edith.
Cross me not!

I am seeking one who wedded me in
secret.
[IIa!
Whisper! God's angels only know it.
What art thou doing here among the
dead?
naked yonder,
They are stripping the dead bodies
And thou art come to rob them of their
rings!

Ald. O Edith, Edith, I have lost both

some

(To Malet.)

Knowest thou this other? Malet. When I visited England, Some held she was his wife in secret[mour. Well-some believed she was his paraEdith. Norman, thou liest! liars all of you, [and sheYour Saints and all! I am his wife! For look, our marriage ring! [She draws it off the finger of Harold. I lost it somehow

I lost it, playing with it when I was wild.

That bred the doubt! but I am wiser now... I am too wise.. Will none among you all

Thy wife am I for ever and evermore.
[Falls on the body and dies.
Will. Death!-and enough of death
for this one day,
The day of St. Calixtus, and the day,
My day, when I was born.
Malet. And this dead king's,
Who, king or not, hath kinglike fought
and fallen,
Leven
His birthday, too. It seems but yester-
I held it with him in his English halls,
His day, with all his rooftree ringing
Harold,'

Before he fell into the snare of Guy; When all men counted Harold would be king,

And Harold was most happy.

Will.

Thou art half English.

Take them away! Malet, I vow to build a church to God Here on this hill of battle; let our high altar [where these two lie. Stand where their standard fell. . . . Take them away, I do not love to see them. [Malet!

Pluck the dead woman off the dead man, Malet. Faster than ivy. Must I hack her arms off?

How shall I part them?

Will. Leave them. Let them be! Bury him and his paramour together. He that was false in oath to me, it seems Was false to his own wife. We will not give him

[rior,

A Christian burial: yet he was a warAnd wise, yea truthful, till that blightod vow

Which God avenged to-day.
Wrap them together in a purple cloak
And lay them both upon the waste sea-
[which

shore

At Hastings, there to guard the land for He did forswear himself-a warrioray,

And but that Holy Peter fought for us, And that the false Northumbrian held aloof, [the Saints And save for that chance arrow which Sharpen'd and sent against him-who can tell?[twice Three horses had I slain beneath me: I thought that all was lost. Since I knew battle,

[yet And that was from my boyhood, never No, by the splendor of God-have I fought men [guard Like Harold and his brethren, and his Of English. Every man about his king Fell where he stood. They loved him: and, pray God [with mo My Normans may but move as truo To the door of death. Of one self-stock at first, [English; Make them again one people-Norman, And English, Norman:-we should have a hand

To grasp the world with, and a foot to stamp it...

Flat. Praise the Saints. It is over. No more blood!

I am king of England, so they thwart me not,

And I will rule according to their laws.

(To Aldwyth.)

Madam, we will entreat thee with all honor.

Ald. My punishment is more than I can bear.

AT Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,

And a pinnace like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away; Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!'

Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: ''Fore God I am no coward!

But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear.

And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.

We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?'

II.

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: know you are no coward;

You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.

But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.

I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard, To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain.'

III.

So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,

Till he melted like a cloud in the silent

summer heaven:

Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and laugh'd. Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft

Running on and on, till delay'd By their mountain-like San Philip' that, of fifteen hundred tons,

And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns, Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.

VII.

And while now the great San Philip' hung above us like a cloud

Whence the thunderbolt will fall
Long and loud,

Four galleons drew away

From the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,

And the battle-thunder broke from them all.

VIII.

But anon the great San Philip,' she bethought herself and went

Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content;

And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,

For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,

And a dozen time we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears When he leaps from the water to the land.

IX.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew

back with her dead and her shame, For some were sunk and many were shat

ter'd, and so could fight us no moreGod of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for

they fear'd that we still could sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,

And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;

And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;

But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, 'We have fought such a fight for a day and a night

As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men!
And a day less or more
At sea or shore,

We die-does it matter when?

XIV.

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,

And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap

That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;

Was he devil or man? He was devil for

aught they knew,

But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,

And they mann'd the 'Revenge' with a swarthier alien crew,

And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;

When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,

And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,

And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,

And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,

Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain,

And the little 'Revenge' herself went down by the island crags

To be lost evermore in the main.