The Rowley Poems Part 50

Thro' everie troope disorder reer'd her hedde; 15 Dancynge and heideignes was the onlie theme; Sad dome was theires, who lefte this easie bedde, And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream.

Duke Williams menne, of comeing dethe afraide, All nyghte to the great G.o.dde for succour askd and praied. 20

Thus Harolde to his wites that stoode arounde; Goe, Gyrthe and Eilward, take bills halfe a score, And search how farre our foeman's campe doth bound; Yourself have rede; I nede to saie ne more.

My brother best belov'd of anie ore, 25 My Leoswinus, goe to everich wite, Tell them to raunge the battel to the grore, And waiten tyll I sende the hest for fyghte.

He saide; the loieaul broders lefte the place, Success and cheerfulness depicted on ech face. 30

Slowelie brave Gyrthe and Eilwarde dyd advaunce, And markd wyth care the armies dystant syde.

When the dyre clatterynge of the s.h.i.+elde and launce Made them to be by Hugh Fitzhugh espyd.

He lyfted up his voice, and lowdlie cryd; 35 Like wolfs in wintere did the Normanne yell; Girthe drew hys swerde, and cutte hys burled hyde; The proto-slene manne of the fielde he felle; Out streemd the bloude, and ran in smokynge curles, Reflected bie the moone seemd rubies mixt wyth pearles. 40

A troope of Normannes from the ma.s.s-songe came, Rousd from their praiers by the flotting crie; Thoughe Girthe and Ailwardus perceevd the same, Not once theie stoode abashd, or thoghte to flie.

He seizd a bill, to conquer or to die; 45 Fierce as a clevis from a rocke ytorne, That makes a vallie wheresoe're it lie; [1]Fierce as a ryver burstynge from the borne; So fiercelie Gyrthe hitte Fitz du Gore a blowe.

And on the verdaunt playne he layde the champyone lowe. 50

Tancarville thus; alle peace in Williams name; Let none edraw his arcublaster bowe.

Girthe cas'd his weppone as he hearde the same, And vengynge Normannes staid the flyinge floe.

The sire wente onne; ye menne, what mean ye so 55 Thus unprovokd to courte a bloudie fyghte?

Quod Gyrthe; oure meanynge we ne care to showe, Nor dread thy duke wyth all his men of myghte; Here single onlie these to all thie crewe Shall shewe what Englysh handes and heartes can doe. 60

Seek not for bloude, Tancarville calme replyd, Nor joie in dethe, lyke madmen most distraught; In peace and mercy is a Chrystians pryde; He that dothe contestes pryze is in a faulte.

And now the news was to Duke William brought, 65 That men of Haroldes armie taken were; For theyre good cheere all caties were enthoughte, And Gyrthe and Eilwardus enjoi'd goode cheere.

Quod w.i.l.l.yam; thus shall w.i.l.l.yam be founde A friend to everie manne that treades on English ground. 70

Erie Leofwinus throwghe the campe ypa.s.s'd, And sawe bothe men and erlies on the grounde; They slepte, as thoughe they woulde have slepte theyr last, And hadd alreadie felte theyr fatale wounde.

He started backe, and was wyth shame astownd; 75 Loked wanne wyth anger, and he shooke wyth rage; When throughe the hollow tentes these wordes dyd sound, Rowse from your sleepe, detratours of the age!

Was it for thys the stoute Norwegian bledde?

Awake, ye huscarles, now, or waken wyth the dead. 80

As when the shepster in the shadie bowre In jintle slumbers chase the heat of daie, Hears doublyng echoe wind the wolfins rore, That neare hys flocke is watchynge for a praie, He tremblynge for his sheep drives dreeme awaie, 85 Gripes faste hys burled croke, and sore adradde Wyth fleeting strides he hastens to the fraie, And rage and prowess fyres the coistrell lad; With trustie talbots to the battel flies, And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the skies. 90

Such was the dire confusion of eche wite, That rose from sleep and walsome power of wine; Theie thoughte the foe by trechit yn the nyghte Had broke theyr camp and gotten paste the line; Now here now there the burnysht sheeldes and byll-spear s.h.i.+ne; 95 Throwote the campe a wild confusionne spredde; Eche bracd hys armlace siker ne desygne, The crested helmet nodded on the hedde; Some caught a flughorne, and an onsett wounde; Kynge Harolde hearde the charge, and wondred at the sounde. 100

Thus Leofwine; O women cas'd in stele!

Was itte for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede Throughe the black armoure dyd the anlace fele, And rybbes of solid bra.s.se were made to bleede?

Whylst yet the worlde was wondrynge at the deede. 105 You souldiers, that shoulde stand with byll in hand, Get full of wine, devoid of any rede.

Oh shame! oh dyre dishonoure to the lande!

He sayde; and shame on everie visage spredde, Ne sawe the erlies face, but addawd hung their head. 110

Thus he; rowze yee, and forme the boddie tyghte.

The Kentysh menne in fronte, for strenght renownd, Next the Brystowans dare the bloudie fyghte, And last the numerous crewe shall presse the grounde.

I and my king be wyth the Kenters founde; 115 Bythric and Alfwold hedde the Brystowe bande; And Bertrams sonne, the man of glorious wounde, Lead in the rear the menged of the lande; And let the Londoners and Suffers plie Bie Herewardes memuine and the lighte skyrts anie. 120

He saide; and as a packe of hounds belent, When that the trackyng of the hare is gone, If one perchaunce shall hit upon the scent, With twa redubbled fhuir the alans run; So styrrd the valiante Saxons everych one; 125 Soone linked man to man the champyones stoode; To 'tone for their bewrate so soone 'twas done, And lyfted bylls enseem'd an yron woode; Here glorious Alfwold towr'd above the wites, And seem'd to brave the fuir of twa ten thousand fights. 130

Thus Leofwine; today will Englandes dome Be fyxt for aie, for G.o.de or evill state; This sunnes aunture be felt for years to come; Then bravelie fyghte, and live till deathe of date.

Thinke of brave aelfridus, yclept the grete, 135 From porte to porte the red-haird Dane he chasd, The Danes, with whomme not lyoncels coud mate, Who made of peopled reaulms a barren waste; Thinke how at once by you Norwegia bled Whilste dethe and victorie for magystrie bested. 140

Meanwhile did Gyrthe unto Kynge Harolde ride, And tolde howe he dyd with Duke w.i.l.l.yam fare.

Brave Harolde lookd askaunte, and thus replyd; And can thie say be bowght wyth drunken cheer?

Gyrthe waxen hotte; fhuir in his eyne did glare; 145 And thus he saide; oh brother, friend, and kynge, Have I deserved this fremed speche to heare?

Bie G.o.ddes hie hallidome ne thoughte the thynge.

When Tostus sent me golde and sylver store, I scornd hys present vile, and scorn'd hys treason more. 150

Forgive me, Gyrthe, the brave Kynge Harolde cryd; Who can I trust, if brothers are not true?

I think of Tostus, once my joie and pryde.

Girthe saide, with looke adigne; my lord, I doe.

But what oure foemen are, quod Girth, I'll shewe; 155 By G.o.ds hie hallidome they preestes are.

Do not, quod Harolde, Girthe, mystell them so, For theie are everich one brave men at warre.

Quod Girthe; why will ye then provoke theyr hate?

Quod Harolde; great the foe, so is the glorie grete. 160

And nowe Duke w.i.l.l.yam mareschalled his band, And stretchd his armie owte a goodlie rowe.

First did a ranke of arcublastries stande, Next those on horsebacke drewe the ascendyng flo, Brave champyones, eche well lerned in the bowe, 165 Theyr asenglave acrosse theyr horses ty'd, Or with the loverds squier behinde dyd goe, Or waited squier lyke at the horses syde.

When thus Duke w.i.l.l.yam to a Monke dyd saie, Prepare thyselfe wyth spede, to Harolde haste awaie. 170

Telle hym from me one of these three to take; That hee to mee do homage for thys lande, Or mee hys heyre, when he deceasyth, make, Or to the judgment of Chrysts vicar stande.

He saide; the Monke departyd out of hande, 175 And to Kyng Harolde dyd this message bear; Who said; tell thou the duke, at his likand If he can gette the crown hee may itte wear.

He said, and drove the Monke out of his syghte, And with his brothers rouz'd each manne to bloudie fyghte. 180

A standarde made of sylke and jewells rare, Wherein alle coloures wroughte aboute in bighes, An armyd knyghte was seen deth-doynge there, Under this motte, He conquers or he dies.

This standard rych, endazzlynge mortal eyes, 185 Was borne neare Harolde at the Renters heade, Who chargd hys broders for the grete empryze That straite the hest for battle should be spredde.

To evry erle and knyghte the worde is gyven, And cries _a guerre_ and slughornes shake the vaulted heaven. 190

As when the erthe, torne by convulsyons dyre, In reaulmes of darkness hid from human syghte, The warring force of water, air, and fyre, Brast from the regions of eternal nyghte, Thro the darke caverns seeke the reaulmes of lyght; 195 Some loftie mountaine, by its fury torne, Dreadfully moves, and causes grete affryght; Now here, now there, majestic nods the bourne, And awfulle shakes, mov'd by the almighty force, Whole woods and forests nod, and ryvers change theyr course. 200

So did the men of war at once advaunce, Linkd man to man, enseemed one boddie light; Above a wood, yform'd of bill and launce, That noddyd in the ayre most straunge to syght.

Harde as the iron were the menne of mighte, 205 Ne neede of slughornes to enrowse theyr minde; Eche shootynge spere yreaden for the fyghte, More feerce than fallynge rocks, more swefte than wynd; With solemne step, by ecchoe made more dyre, One single boddie all theie marchd, theyr eyen on fyre. 210

And now the greie-eyd morne with vi'lets drest, Shakyng the dewdrops on the flourie meedes, Fled with her rosie radiance to the West: Forth from the Easterne gatte the fyerie steedes Of the bright sunne awaytynge spirits leedes: 215 The sunne, in fierie pompe enthrond on hie, Swyfter than thoughte alonge hys jernie gledes, And scatters nyghtes remaynes from oute the skie: He sawe the armies make for bloudie fraie, And stopt his driving steeds, and hid his lyghtsome raye. 220

Kynge Harolde hie in ayre majestic raysd His mightie arme, deckt with a manchyn rare; With even hande a mighty javlyn paizde, Then furyouse sent it whystlynge thro the ayre.

It struck the helmet of the Sieur de Beer; 225 In vayne did bra.s.se or yron stop its waie; Above his eyne it came, the bones dyd tare, Peercynge quite thro, before it dyd allaie; He tumbled, scritchyng wyth hys horrid payne; His hollow cuishes rang upon the bloudie pleyne. 230

This w.i.l.l.yam saw, and soundynge Rowlandes songe He bent his yron interwoven bowe, Makynge bothe endes to meet with myghte full stronge, From out of mortals syght shot up the floe; Then swyfte as fallynge starres to earthe belowe 235 It slaunted down on Alfwoldes payncted sheelde; Quite thro the silver-bordurd crosse did goe, Nor loste its force, but stuck into the feelde; The Normannes, like theyr sovrin, dyd prepare, And shotte ten thousande floes uprysynge in the aire. 240

As when a flyghte of cranes, that takes their waie In householde armies thro the flanched skie, Alike the cause, or companie or prey, If that perchaunce some boggie fenne is nie.

Soon as the muddie natyon theie espie, 245 Inne one blacke cloude theie to the erth descende; Feirce as the fallynge thunderbolte they flie; In vayne do reedes the speckled folk defend: So p.r.o.ne to heavie blowe the arrowes felle, And peered thro bra.s.se, and sente manie to heaven or h.e.l.le. 250

aelan Adelfred, of the stowe of Leigh, Felte a dire arrowe burnynge in his breste; Before he dyd, he sente hys spear awaie, Thenne sunke to glorie and eternal reste.

Nevylle, a Normanne of alle Normannes beste, 255 Throw the joint cuishe dyd the javlyn feel, As hee on horsebacke for the fyghte addressd, And sawe hys bloude come smokynge oer the steele; He sente the avengynge floe into the ayre, And turnd hys horses hedde, and did to leeche repayre. 260

And now the javelyns, barbd with deathhis wynges, Hurld from the Englysh handes by force aderne, Whyzz dreare alonge, and songes of terror synges, Such songes as alwaies clos'd in lyfe eterne.

Hurld by such strength along the ayre theie burne, 265 Not to be quenched b.u.t.te ynn Normannes bloude; Wherere theie came they were of lyfe forlorn, And alwaies followed by a purple floude; Like cloudes the Normanne arrowes did descend, Like cloudes of carnage full in purple drops dyd end. 270

Nor, Leofwynus, dydst thou still estande; Full soon thie pheon glytted in the aire; The force of none but thyne and Harolds hande Could hurle a javlyn with such lethal geer; Itte whyzzd a ghastlie dynne in Normannes ear, 275 Then thundryng dyd upon hys greave alyghte, Peirce to his hearte, and dyd hys bowels tear, He closd hys eyne in everlastynge nyghte; Ah! what avayld the lyons on his creste!

His hatchments rare with him upon the grounde was prest. 280

w.i.l.l.yam agayne ymade his bowe-ends meet, And hie in ayre the arrowe wynged his waie, Descendyng like a shafte of thunder sleete, Lyke thunder rattling at the noon of daie, Onne Algars sheelde the arrowe dyd a.s.saie, 285 There throghe dyd peerse, and stycke into his groine; In grypynge torments on the feelde he laie, Tille welcome dethe came in and clos'd his eyne; Distort with peyne he laie upon the borne, Lyke st.u.r.die elms by stormes in uncothe wrythynges torne. 290