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Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent la mtthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 ''\ KROM THE NORMAN CONQUEST, u ' 't/> t'k^ % Panustript |po(m. BOOK FIRST. ^urC»^ ^ ARQUMENT. liivociUion. — Dtpartw of Harold^ ton of Godwin, from Eng- land, on hi$ voyage to Normandy.— ~Objectt of hi$ visit itated. — Edward, the Confessor' t warning. — J7.« storm, and ike wreck of Harold and his companions, on the coast of Ponthieu.-^I^ey pass the night on the sea- shore. — T%eir interview with Guy, the ruler of that country.— jS ransom is demanded of Harold, which, being refused, he and his companions are cast into pri- hon by Guy.— Message to and from William, Duke of Normandy.— Release of Horold by Guy, the Duke of Normandy having paid the required ransom. — Harold's arrival at Eu, in the territories of William.— His recep- tion there by that Prince.— Descriptii ■> of the Normans, with a bri^f account of their settlement on the banks of the Seine.— Historical sketch of Rollo and his line to William, the Conqueror, with an outline of the life of thai Prince.— Harold goes to Rouen.— His reception there— Description of that court. —Matilda, and her I tfC tUUr Judiik.^UaroUe$ vitU de$cribid.'-Ht mm<« Am brother U^f, and Haeo, hU ntphw, tk» $on of Sweyn, ikt outlaw.'-Their advice to Harold.— 'Hit conduct and feeliagt de»eribed.—Mean» adopted by William^ and those around hiaifto gain the friendthip and alliance of Harold.—Britf tketch of Normandyt at it then wat.— Tour of Harold and hit eompaniont, with William, through partt of that country. Of that proud Norman, wbo to England came, And there hj arms, achiered a Conqueror's fame ; Of Harold's fate, whose ralor shone in vain, On Hasting V field, where that great chief was slaiu, I sing : aid thou my song, oh t Hose ; for vast The theme designed. With eye serene, the past For me survey, where realms obscurely rose, On time's dark waste, amid the boundless woee, The wrath of nations, fiercest of that day, But blended now, beneath a mightier bway. Thro' later times, explore those schemes profound, On conquest bent, by lasting conquest crown'd. Relate how Harold was induced to swear, A fatal oath ; and first, how to declare, A vassal's fealty, to his country's foe ; Pleas for dread crimes, and cause of so much woe. Depict the conflict, carnage, of that day, When England sunk beneath a Conqueror's bway, Close by the spot, which marks her hero's grave, In that bright isle, he died in vain to save. To me impart, for time long since hath spread, Silence and shade, o'er the renown'd, the dead, Those thoughts, once tbeir's, which here enshrin'd gbould live, And. thro' the future, in men's mindg iurvive. s^Qt let the glories of that distant age, Pass here unsung,—- grow dim upon my page. '.\ Now Godwin's son, Prince Harold, great and free, With Bpreadingsail, stood joyftally to eea. Gay, tried companions, men of martial fame, VouDg nobles too, of proudest Saxon name, Witli him embarked. The sky and winds were fair, Tho' dark the scenes, they soon with him must share. Two royal ships, equipped to sail the deep, Kode proudly on, and close their courses keep : Swift were they borne before the rising blost. Prom England's shore, toward the Norman coast, To which great Uarold, and his suite were bound. To view those shores, in arts and arms rcnown'd : And him to greet, who ruled that famous land, Uy wise decrees, and with a warlike hand. Likewise he sought, those kinsmen to release, ]]y him beloved, once hostages of peace. Whom haughty Godwin, to his Sovereign gave, Upon that day, the king was prompt to save. Firm now his hope, Duke William would restore, His brother Ulf, whom many a ye*ir before. With Haco too, King Edward there had sent, As Princely guests (ot least such his intent) To the great Norman, and his friendly court, To guard the oath, the pledge, he did extort. With fond affection, both Duke Harold loved, And this long exile, much his soul had grieved. Their fate he now, before his Sovereign brought, And their recall from Normandy had sought.— This freely granted to that Prince's proycr, cJtrong grew his wish, to visit, seek them, there. But much that project, did King Edward blame, And from his lips, these words of warning came : " Most noble Harold, much thy fame I prize And thv trreat life, ia liorht. in Fia-rnn nvao Thy kinsmen long, their exile now have borne, And with thee still, I wait for their return. Thou know'st bow uucb, my trust Iias Ucu b«tr«yed. And their release, from year to year delayed. But didst thou know that ruthless Norman heart, Uis crafty mind, the dark perfidious part, Which marks the triumphs of his later life, And oft displayed in his career of strife, Not to bis shores, thine eager steps would lead. But thou wouldst shun, those perils I so dread. Once with Duke William, who now fears thy power, Thy life will darken from that fatal hour. Thee he will seek to bind, betray, destroy, Or blight that fame, now pure from earth's alloy : And thou wilt learn — alas I perchance too late— That bis resolves, ere like decrees of fate. Harold, remain ; one less illustrious send, Be be some stranger, brother, or a friend." But Harold deemed, no dangers should diveri, From pleaduag rights, himself could urge, assert. His heart too bold, to this its hopes had lent, And to this task, bis mind was firmly bent. Long he bad sought, these kinsmen to release, And cause that exile from their homes to cease. So Edward's fears, the hero ne'er had shared. And for that journey, promptly had prepared. The Monarch yielded, but with grief, with sighs, While unshed tears stood in bis aged eyes. Pull half the voyage, Harold thus bad run. When darkly now, and with the set of sun, A storm arose. Propelled by north-west winds. Toward the shore, which fertile Ponthleu binds, The ships are borne, on homeless ocean toss'd, And headlong drive, foil on the rocky coast. Thick darkness broods upon the raging deep, No more the ships upon their course they keep. Storm-beariner cloudn. Aikr\r hw *ha *«».»•.« a^^^^x MoT«, charged with floods, athwart the fields of heaven. ed. T«n. Tho viewlca* winds, from realms ol'aigU* mid Tear, O'er ocean ruab, upon their dread career. The ougry bllloiTB, lift their heads on hijfh. the ships they toss, up to the lurid sky, Then dash them low, into the wild abysi*, Where ocean's depths, in Stygian horror hi««. O'er the dark waste, the livid lightnings ploy, But show no hope, upon tlint trackless way. The volleying thnnder?, peal from cloud to cloud. And add their terrors to the roaring flood. Torrents descend, and louder howls the storm, And danger threatens death in direst form. Before the blast, the creaking vessels fly, Their canvas gone ; and oft is heard the cry Of wild despair, which on the winds arose, As fiercer now, and still tho tempest grows. The ships drive on ; one by a rocky isle Sweeps plunging close, and nearly strikes the while But passing thence, direct toward the coast. She quickly strands, then on the shore is cast. Ilnrd following there, thro' all that hopeless scene, Prince Harold's bark, in peril like had been. Vow dashed on shore, • the remorseless surge, The boist'rous waves, the double wreck submerge. And death impends, at that ill-fated hour, O'er all the life, those vessels thither bore. As the wild sea, with each receding wave. Seeks to engulf them in nnfkthomed grave, But firm their footing, crew and nobles keep, And safe emerge, from the devouring deep. Dry land they reach, despite the booming roar, And dash of waters, on that lonely shore. Unnumbered perils, these brave men had passed, And hofO linSta in *%1t(»U« A^>1«.t... .a t^-i -^ ' »8.t.»v.j III i'tjgus. aWiiOFu afc iUSl. No spark ♦hey bear, the cheerfbl blaze to start : No shelter near, a covering to impart. — <-»u that iviia sboro, tbo Uwiuul night waoca slow, Dark skies above, nnd earth's damp bed belotr. There on strange coast, these men untimely casi, Walt for the dawn, beneath the midnight blast. ' From orient skies, tvhich rising suns adorn, l>im breaks the light, thro' clonds that reil the morn : i'ar o'er the ocean, sweep the mists of night, I'uU on the pnths of tempests in their flight, U'hilo on that wflRto, where mnn bath Hxedno homo, FI7 the wild winds, nnd fierce the billows foam. The Saxons, wrecked upon that sea-beat slrnnrJ, Behold strange horrors \n an unknown land. A forest dense, as far as eye could reach, With foliage dark, extended to the beach , While lower down, beneath the dashing eprwv. Their noble, ships, two heaps of ruin lay. .They see no homes, descry no trace, of man, And, long perplexed, they further search began, ffow forth they wander, and at length they gain The spot whore Somme's dark waters cleave the main There the fierce natives, dwellers by that stream. Whose banks with hostile population teem. To these worn strangers, rescued from the wave, Cold words addressed, and horsh reception govc. Them they conducted to their haughty chief Ponthieu's proud Earl, whose words were stirn nnd brief. This small dominion, independent then, Had long been governed by rapocioUs men : And tho' not swayed by any foreign state. Much William's influence it had known of late And close on frontiers of the Norman power, ' They saw their doom, approaching ev'ry hour. When first Duke Harold to Guy's presence came, And to that Chieftain, was announced his name, With lordly ffeatnre. unA t«.t»Mj»i..-x i--._ The Saxon then, with greeting rude, he spoke : « " Thou art Priace Ilarold, Godwiu s luiuoiu ion • So great a prise, hare I thus easy Tron ? For thy release, a raniom now I claim : Delay I grant, and the amount I name, Which, promptly paid, thy freedom I concede : Tis not thy presence, but the sum, I heed." To whom the Duke, in tones of scornful pride, And haughty words, then promptly, thus replied : ■' By this demand, our woes thou dost relieve ! And this the welcome, strangers here receive ! Cast in distress, upon this savage shore, Plunder awaits, awaits us something more ! A robber's den, would greater safety yield, And from such fate, would human suffering shield. Prom thee I claim, both for myself and these, Complete exemption, from such impious law« ««>!i-* From Norway's shores, tho conquering Kormans came. So mde at first, nor laws, nor arts could tame. U 10 Their daring soula, more licrce tliau northern blasts. Which swept their haunts, around these icj coasts ' The Danes and Saxons, kindred nations were, And, with the Normans, oft did rapine sharp. Kings of the ocean, scourges of the earth They broke like giants, from the gloomy NorH. Barbarian forms, inured to every wind In every peril, enterprise they found.— They marched in triumph, o'er the land and wave ^or mercy sought, nor quarter claimed, nor gave ' From island homes, far in that Northern sea, Those mighty corsairs, ever wandering free Thro' realms remote, spread terror and despair, And conquests made, in regions rich and fair Along the Seme, their bloody paths had been", With lire a^d sword, 'mid many a fertile scene, btill on they went, a cruel, fearless band, And, all subduing, seized that glorious land Thro' years of war, amidst a ruined race, Iheir ghastly deeds, historians still may trace East, west, and north, far round the Gallic shore, Their pirate flag, and blood-stained arms, they bore. They cities sacked j the works of ages gone In rums lay, and nations were undone They burned the hamlet, spoiled the peaceful vale, They cease from slaughter, and their booty seize, Place It in ships, and slacken to the breeze ; They put from land, and court the evening gale, With dipping oar, and fleeble fluttering sail Thro pathless seas, and midnight storms they fly They oft return,-.return but to renew Wild scenes of ravage, spoil, and carnaire too, Tis neeaiess hero, to name each roving chief Whose expeditions, sojourns, yet were brief •' 11 t», For nesrlj uow, two hundred yearn had fled, O'er living generations and the dead, Since Rollo's fleet, before fair Rouen rode, \Vhere that great chief, soon fixed his firm abode. As mighty Icadrr of a lawless band, Who had on him, conferred supreme command, On many a shore, he plundered near and far, Ot matchless strength, a demi-god of war. He ruled the main, where'er his baric rode fret-, And that wild name, was known on every .cpn. Rouen he sought, with a resistless force, And there he paused, upon his bloody course. That ancient city, famous long had shone, fn earlier times, and scenes immortal known, Kre fire and sword, had laid the land in waste. And marked the epochs of a fearful past. To him the gates were opened prompt and wide ; He entered there, but not in martial pride. A holy prelate gained that man of blood, And had his wrath, with sacred voice wiihstood. lie softening influence, on his mind could wield. And from his fury, did the city shield. Tliere RoUo reigned, and thence excursions made, In which hia arms, ^hoir triumphs soon displayed. West of this spot, nor from the sea remote, Was Bayeux built, a place of ancient note. Against that town, now RoUo marched in wrath, And thro' that region, spread tlie work of death. The siege was formed, and the assault prepared, And Rollo's summons, to the town declared ; Which, disregarded by the hosts within, The dread assault was ordered to begin. Dark was the scene, and dark that fearful hour, And fierce ibo onset of the Norman power. A mighty chieftain, Beranger by name, And long illustrious on the rolls of fame. VI Holds cliicf command, along the lofty walU. And bravely dies, before the city falls. The furious Normans, quickly enter there, And plunder, ravage, but the people spare. The fallen chief was found among th« dead. Neath heaps of slain, upon a bloody bed. One child he left, bright as the bearas of morn, The cherished hope of love, and years forlorn. She like a flower upon a barren waste, Was, in those times of war and rapine, lost; Wan child of fate, in that dim light alone, Pale apparition of dark ages gone. Her mother slept, had died in early years, And left but her, to soothe her father's tears. Popaea naqaed. When Rollo sacked the town. This prize he made, and claimed her for bis own. With pagan rites, he made her then his bride, A star 'mid storms, to loftier hopes a guide. From this fair Christian, whom be thus had wed. There sprung a son, and daughter to his bed. William and Gerloc, were the names they bore. She died in youth; but he lived to restore A brighter lustre to the sovereign powcj, From which removed, ho seemed in evil hour. Great Rollo still, his warlike forces led. And conquests made, where'er his legions sped. With Charles of France, be soon a treaty made, By which he power, and policy displayed, And the foundations of his throne were laid. Ste. Clair sur Epte, was chosen for that act. And there was formed, that long and firm compact. The King of France was with a daughter blest, Giselle by name, of noblest gifts possess'd. In youth's bright hour, withhopes of early years. E'er yet life's woes, had dimm'd her eyes with tears. Charles him besought, to take Giselle to wife, 18 That, thus allied, might end their fatal strife. RoIIo coascnts, foreswears each pagan rito, A.nd on his soul, there beamed a holier light. A. Christian ruler, RoUo then became, And o'er the land, this change he did proclaim. The Norman Dukedom, Charles to Rollo gavp, And other lands, to gain a chief so brave. Thro' his dominions, wise decrees he sent. Which to his rule, both strength and glory lent. Stern laws prevoiled, wild rapine reigned to more. And peace and order, spread from shore to shoro. Popaea long had passed from RoUo's heart, Who, with cold words, constrained her to depart. Her son he kept, but cast the mother out, Who wandered far, on many a distant route. With bruised heart, which life's last woe had found; Pale offspring she, of fallen race renowned. That fair-haired daughter of a mightier line. tJsurps her place, a heart she must resign. And grief had worn Popaea's faded brow, Yet Giselle lived, and mourned, in childless woe And Rollo sinks, into the vale of life, Worn out by toil, by peril, and by strife. Thus years had pass'd ; Giselle, Popaja, died, And the great Norman slumbered by their side. William Longue Ep^e, Popaea's mighty son, By RoUo's will, succeeded to the crown. He held the sceptre with a monarch's hand, And peace maintained, throughout the Norman land. But foreign triumphs, in his prosperous hour, His arms achieved, in aid of tcttering power. Louis of France, he placed upon his throne ; And Flanders' Earl, did bis protection own. By treacherous deed, the latter laid him low, In pride of life, by an assassin's blow. Rishard his son, succeeded him and reigned, ' His power vast, and well wns it maintained. 14 First he espoused, aud mourutul wan Lcr late, Agnes the Fair, offapring of Hugh the Great ';— That Count of Paris, who proud monarchs sirwyod. Chief of ft line, by nations long obeyed. This Agnes died, in sorrow and despair ; Xo child she left—to Normandy no heir. Then a young maid, of humble birth, he loved, Conor of Arqucs, who tlie great mother proved. Of sons and daughters, dy na.nics renowned. I'y famous deeds, in after ages, crown'd, And these among. Queen Emma may be found. Rmma the wife of Ethelred became, Mother of him, whom men Confessor name. This Norman Prince, Sans Pair was proudly styled ; Tn war too fierce, and oft to wrong beguiled. f u course of time, Conor he made his bride, And to his offspring, legal rights supplied ; Ho glorious lived, in peace of God he died. Then reigned Duke R-'chard, second of that name, Son of Sans Peur, and Prince of warlike fame. He with the Saxons, and with others, warred. And, when victorious, nobly them he spared. Him his son Richard, followed as of right, Hut soon he passed into that dreamless night, Of death's long sleep, which comes upon us all ; The doom of our sad race, since Adam's fault and fiUl. When he was gone, his brother reigned instead, Robert the Great, well known for many a deed' That gave far glory to his name and race, Tho' dark were some, which time cannot efface. Magnificent, the epithet men gave, Proclaimed him thoughtless, generous, and brave. Ho skill and valor, showed in deeds of war. Which oft he waged, in Christian lands afar. In this renowned, and also great in peace, Much did his rule, the Norman state increase. 15 J For this great Prince, wlioso celebrated court, To fall'n sov'reigns, proved a sure resort, Employed his sword, the feeble to restore, And his proud arms, to France and Flanders bore. Baldwin the Fourth, he placed upon his throne ; And the like act, for the French king had done. As a reward, for friendship thus displayed, Henry of France, The Vexin all conreyed To the proud Norman, who in var became, Of his own time, the most illustrious name. Now at Falaise, a royal castle stood, Which thro' long years, despite time, war, and flood, A fortress' strength, and strong defence maintained. And the nsaaults of armies had sustained. There Robert oft, in expeditions dwelt, And for that spot, a rare attachment felt. From those high towers, a rich and varied view, Of gardens, fields, and groves of every hue, Glowed in the beam, beneath the summer's sky, And fixed the pensive, long-enraptured eye, While far beyond, receding landscapes lay, In sweet repose, thro' the refulgent day. There by a stream, which wound 'mong distant vales, Clothed in soft verdure, cooled by western gales, Mid woodland hills, and sloping fields between, And stretching far, in many a rural scene, A cottage stood ] a poor man's home of peace, Who, by hard toil, still laboured to increase His slender store, and strove each weary day, And anxious there, pursued his humble way. He had one daughter, grown to woman's years, Adorned with beauty, all that youth endears, Her parents' pride, only hone. Their It came to pass, upon a summer's eve, peasants labor leave, age to bless, and with its ills to cope. At that blest hour, when 'I I! I I i I ' I J ^ I'' i !ili ; m Bj that sort btream, where flowers their fragrance yield, In homely garb, that lorely maiden kneeled. Her daily toil, the virgin followed there, While vesper-bells, proclaimed the hour of prayer. That warrior chief, with hounds and huntsmen nigh, Approached the spot, and Herl6vc met his eye. Tho' time and war, from his strong heart had worn The tameless ardor, which its youth had borne. He halted near, that maid and murmuring stream, Which calmly flowed, beneath tho evening beam. Spell-bound, he gazed upon that matchless fece. Her radiant brow, her form's unrivalled grace. The damsel rose, and her obeisance made To tho great Prince ; a few brief words were said. Then Robert went, his stately castle sought, And there HerlSve, in course of time, was brought. Her heart ho won. Thro' long and baffled yearp. He oft for her, would shed atoning tears. But from that love, all hapless and unblest, A child was born, of dauntless soul possess'd. That outcast son, his warlike father loved, And to his court, he early was removed ; In after days, a Prince in war renown'd, High on the roll, where earth's bright names are found. That Monarch he, whose proud, immortal name, Of England's Conqueror, fills the page of fame. Illustrious still, through many an age and clime In past and present, so in future time. Zeal for the Cross, with many Robert shared, And when he left, his nobles he implored, That as his heir, this child they should obey ; And made them swear allegiance to his sway. These he besought, his heritage to shield, And to his cause, their u^ms and counsel yield. Duke Robert died, in some far Eastern land. Then the young William, with a warrior's hand, It The dceptrc seized, aud claimef! the Nonnuu thronr, And forced the nobles, doubtful righta to orrn Slid many a peril, he to manhood grew, And dark the paths, his bojhood did pursii*'. Po«rerful rivals, were his keenest foes, While warlike chieftains, did his rule oppose. With iron arm, as chief of that great land ; He smote them all, and ruled with stern command. This famous Prince, these recreant foes subdued, The fair Matilda, as fond lover, woo'd. His cousin she, for peerless beauty famed, Tho' dark traditions, have her vengeance blamed. Offspring of Baldw'o, who o'er Flanders reigned. And, by that union, wide renown obtained. At Eu's cathedral, blessings were pronounced, And by great feasts, these nuptials were announced. This act was long, by Pope and Priest withstood. As not allowed, between close ties of blood ; And when 'twas known, an interdict was laid Upon the realm, and priestly wrath displayed, Till wise Lanfranc, his steady friendship proved, And caused these censures, each to be removed. For William ne'er, would just obedience yield. But stood resolved, his wife and throne to shield. At Rouen then, the Norman held his court, And thither Harold, proudly did escort. Where Princes, Prelates, Warriors, had resort. This royal abode, could boast with truth and pride, Of valiant knights, in fields of honor tried ; Of prelates grave, who highest charges filled, An.1 scholars learn'd, in lore of ages skilled ; And there were dnraos, of noble, princely birth, And known alike, for beauty and for worth. That gorgeous palace, shOne on many a night, Like fairy scene, illumed with magic light. Now at this court, the Saxon nobles shared, A welcome greeting, well for them prepared. IR r 1 1 Matilda still, as lovely ua the morn, Great William's wife, to fame and graudeui- born, With matchless beauty, beaming from her fact-, Shed o'er those scenes, a soft and courtly grncp. A queen-like brow, an eye of deepest blue, And tender accents, tones of feeling true, AH blond in her, a form of beauty's light, Which fixed, allured, each one's admiring siglji. Her gestures each, a royal will displayed, While smiling words, still loftier hopes betraved ; For not indifferent to her female aind Were the great schemes, Duke William had desijrned. There Judith too, ia radiant beauty beamed, And each surpassing, save Matilda, seemed. With earnest look, pale cheek and thoughtful brow. She live* thro' sorrow, on this earth below. Her soft, dark eye, her calm, self-conscious air, Told of crushed hopes, of deep, untold despair. To greet her sister, she to Rouen came ; Their hearts w«re one, tho' not their hopes the same. To Harold's brother Tostig, she was wed. And chequered life, that lovely Princess led. This Tostig then, ruled the Northumbrian laud, With tyrant sway, and a rapacious hand. ner husband's perils, long had Judith shared, And for dark future, was her mind prepared. There too was Robert, William's first-born son Wild Rufus too, whose youth had scarce begun, And Adelize, young, lovely, and sedate, Whosfe blameless name, is linked with Harold's fate. And many more, this humble page might name, Who then adorned that court of knightly fame. How each essayed, e'en female grace and art, Their guests to please, to win great Harold's heart My song might tell; but the far stream of fate Bears darkly on, and mightier scenes await. 10 Amid rcjoicingd, aplcndora, of that court, Swift sped the hours, and passing seemed too eboif. With heart confiding, free from anxious thought, And that distrust, the future too trell taught, Great Harold stayed, as did each Saxon knigh!, Thro' joy by day, and revelry by night. The Norman then and his imperial bride, To gain Prince Harold, every art employed. Charms of friendship, blandishments of power, Surround his path, and freely on him shower. Days thus had gone, the Saxon lingered still, While WUliam sought, each hour with joy to fi!I ; And Harold oft, his exiled brother sought, And Haco too, by sorrow early taught, The child of Sweyn, the outlaw, long undone, Of great Earl Godwin, the dishonored sou. There to these kinsmen, plain as light of day. Appeared the dangers, strewed in Harold's way. And they forewarned, implored him to beware Of the great Norman, and each hidden snare. Which his dark wiles, upon his path had spread, To sway him living, or detain him dead ; That heedless then, within the reach he stood. Of watchful foe, of strange and savage mood ; Who would, like tiger, stealth and treacherv bring. To aid his fury, in the deadly spring. Cut Harold's high and valiant spirit bore, Firm faith and courage, to the Norman shore. His hero's soul, disdained to lend belief, In foul designs, from so renowned a chief. He nor suspicion, nor a fear had known,— His mind too great, distrustful thoughts to own. These words of Ulf, of Haco, he reproved, And, like a god, thro' all those perils moved. The first bright days of summer now were gone, And o'er the earth, a richer glory shone. i! 30 the waving fields, the forest, and tho dtreatu, Glow in the splendor, of a softer beam. Tho trembling leaf, on foliage-ladcn trcca, Breathes its wild odors to the wandering brceae. The fragrant earth, the perfume of the flowers, Tho songs of birds, awakening with the honrs That bring the dawn, to gild the Eastern sky ; And those sad notes, which, when the day-benms die, Thro' sacred twilight, sweet and undefiled, Sing of lost hopes ; so rapturously wild, They touch the soul, like life's last dream of lore. Or raise the thoughts, to holier worlds above, All spread enchantment, o'er that glorious land. Fertile and blest by nature's bounteous hand. In undulations, sweeping far away. Rich, smiling landscapes, fruitful toll display. Churches and spires, appear in distant view. O'er regions wide, where wealth and cities grew ; And feudal towers arise by mount and stream,— For safety built, and strong defence, they seem. There castles old, and lofty mansions stood, Tho stately homes of men of Norman blood. Who lived in splendor, swayed with high command O'er all the borders of that mighty land. Along the hanks of rivers winding far, Commerce had spread, despite the rage of wnr. Well tilled the soil, and many an art arose, With the strong impulse, industry bestows, Twas at this time, that science, letters, spread, And soon o'er men, a softening influence shed. The Church had grown, beneath that sov'reign sway, And blest the people, with a brighter day. So now all glorious, in that ruder time. Shone this far-spreading, and majestic clime . Another England, growing on the deep, Where some of Britain's great ancestors sleep. SI The Colt, the Komau, Frank, were blended there, Last wrecks of nations, wasted by despair ; And o'er them all, now ruled the Norman race, Whose footsteps yet, in wonder we may trace ;' The lasting impress, time will scarce efface. Giants they were, by deeds and thoughts renown d And thro' long ages, still with glory crown'd. When fitting time, at Rouen they had been, And viewed the wonders of each famous scene, The Norman Duke, did courteously entreat The Saxon Prince, and nobles of his suite, Excursions then thro' Normandy to make'; That he with them, like journey too would take. They give consent, and soon they all depart, Princes, and courtiers, each with joyous heart. A tour they made, with William as escort, And Norman warriors, nobles of his court. Where'er they went, castle, abbaye, or town, HaroW was hailed, as Prince of great renown. And famed abodes, they visit on their way, And sacred fanes, undimm'd by time's decay.— 'Twere tedious here, to trace the routes they went Or them to follow, on such wanderings bent ' Those days were passed, in joyance and in glee In banquets, hunts, and feats of chivalry. * BOOK SECOND. it!' m\ AROUMERr. Brief iktUk of BriUany.^-Hs position, and tome account of the DuJcet of that country, contemporaries of William, of Normandy. -^Jlost Hit y between the Britont and Nor- maat. — The enmity between the two reigning houses of these powerful staies,— Alain, Eudo, and Conan.-^ Cause o//A« war between William and Conan stated.— Commencement of the struggle.— Harold and the Saxon nobles join WiUiam in the campaign, and swear oaths of fealty to him, at Avranches. —Substance of the oath given.— William joins the main army on the River Coasnon.— Engagements briefly described.— The heroic conduct of Harold, who rescues a large body of the Nor- man forces from destruction in the sands of the River CoHsnon. — Progress and termination of the compaign shortly narrated.— Vitit of William and Harold to Mont St. Michel.— Night-scene between them described. — The proposals of William, and the astonishment of Harold at William's disclosure of Aw views— The Sarm comes under serious promises and engagements to i«r yor.;ian Prince —The following day, they return to 4rrani.>tt, and tiunce they proceed onward to Ba- yeux, passing through Granville, Coutances, St. Lo, and other towns— T%eir arrival at Bayeur. Upon the frontiers of the Normau state, A region xay, reaowa'd from ancient date : Itg natires rude, but great in martial fome ; In times rrmote, Armoricans by name. ad Both to their toutitty, and tlieir prlucei true Six centuries now, their varlcl fortunes grew By Romans, Pranks, and last by Britons, held Who in defence, were oft to %Tma compelled Washed by wild wavea, ll.ac lave its western shor. I' ar round the coast, eternal tempests roar And Britany, tho well-known name it bore' Great streams, dark mountains, ond far-stretchinir And cities rich, in much that wealth attain,^. With limits changing in the turns of war, Xow closing near, and tben receding far • And annals stained, defared by mony a crime Had marked that land, thro' a long lapse of timo. From Albion's isle, the lat.r Britons came And here had found a coun ry and a home • A krngdom formed, and ma. « efficient laws, While their career had won tiao world's applaun- Since that proud day, when K olio nt St. Clair ' ' Enforced his claims, to many a region fair • That?^'i*?^^"°''' '"^^ ' ''' oo^cessiins made Ihat the dark wave of conques might be stayed. A struggle long and bloody ha^ ensued Between the Britons, with deep ate imbued And the dread Normans, whose tpacious piwer Had sought those shores, in its tn imphant hour Still wasting contests, on their fr- ntier rose And years had passed, and,passin. left them loe. The Ducal chiefs, who long that s< ptre held, Were famous warriors, tried on mai y a field And ne er would fealty to the Xorman yield " By female side, their lineage we may trace. A \T. u''''''' ^'°"* ^°"°'« ^*««hty race t:tlX''''^ '^"""' '''' I>»ke WiHam stood. JSJ cio« iximioQ, oy tile ties of blood They long, as rivals, deep resentment bore And, from past wrongs, did mutual hatred share. .iitt> iiii !,,• Hi III !i'( U\ r. m if illlill i 24 For when Dake Robert, with a noble band, As pilgrim journeyed to the Holy Land, Ilis son, a boy, of his snpport bereft, With Duke Alain of Brittany he left. Prince Robert died : this charge he did retaiu, AnJ sought by fraud, that sceptre to obtain. Faithless he proved to Robert's youthful heir, And rassals roused, to wage rebellious war. At Val des Dunes, a last and dire defeat Young William's foes were darkly doomed to meet. Alain ere this, had perished, it is said, By Norman hand, and in his tomb was laid. When he was gone, an only child remained, Oonan his son, who future glory gained. Sole heir he stood, to that great Ducal throue, And later claimed, secured it, for his own. Eudo his uncle, had been guardian named, But by ambition was his mind inflamed. Hence he betrayed the trust on him imposed. And wrongs disastrous, to his charge had caused. The youthful Conan, sprung to man's estate. Against this Prince, appeared in arms elate. Incensed he then assailed his former foe, And him defeated, exiled, overthrew. Tho' Eudo thus, in his designs had failed, lie on Duke William, by false words, prevailed : Revengeful war, to wage against the land, Which Conan ruled, with proud, secure command. Thence the fierce Normans had aggressions made, And leagues around, in ruin soon were laid ; Out young Duke Conan, promptly took the field. These foes to meet, who thus to arms appealed, And to the limits of their rival lands. This warlike Prince had led his hostile baudn. Hard by tht stream, called Coesnon, in the west. And on, the forces of the Norman press'd. 25 These thus assailed, and forced to make retreat, Were broken, slaughtered in one dread defeat. But now advancinpr, Conan's legions still, Did all that region with deep terror fill. William, thus threatened at this point afar, Levied fresh troops and hastened to the war. His Princely vassals gave him willing aid, And in his cause, their martial zeal displayed. Proud, eager levies to his standards fly, With their great chieftains, fate of war to try. In this campaign, the Saxon nobles joined With ardor strange, and posts of honor found. Their valiant spirits, loved the pomp of war, And longed the rapture of the strife to share. The voice of fame was music to the ear. The souls of men, who held their honor dear. By their adhesion to the Norman cause. They won from William, favor and applause. That crafty Prince, with keen, far-seeing mind, By fealty now, those chieftains sought to bind. At fair Avranches, a court of arms was held, Whose stately forms, in splendor far excelled, The feudal pageants of each forlner scene. Where honour'd knighthood, long conferred had been. Brothers in arms, that league for life was called, And in iis rights, here Harold was installed. Tho' formal words, this brotherhood expressed. Its aim and meaning, might be thus compressed : " From this day forth, thro' time for ever more, While I have life, firm faith to thee I swear. Thro' weal, thro' woe, I pledge my word to thee, As loyal knight ; so be thou true to me." Much had Duke William, favored this compact ne i.~: f knightlj- houOr ; high and courteous act, Which from his vassals, he could scarce exact. in KM I I' I' 26 Now these ^at nobles, Normans, Saxons too, But chiefly Hitrold, deep attention drew, In that proud union df illustrious men, Of warlike chieftains, there assembled then. Knights they were wade, with gor^ous, vast display Of all that courteous, chivalrous array, Which, at that tilne, the loftiest rank could elafm, In courts of arms, when joined with martial fame. Again thus Harold signally displayed That faith too^lind, whifeh' all, at hwt, bettayed. He step by step, tfiro'eadhiH^feted hour, Became sure ^fiotim, 'ta the Noiman's: power. Tho' oath of fealty, little knpo'rt 'bore, Still knightly feitli, he io iuk* WiUiam- gwo^e ;, An act unseemly, in «>Prifc?ce «o great, The mighty guardian of great iBrigland^s fate. No aiin concealed, did he in this iSuspect, Nor pause, in doubt or^p>ndeBce,; to reflect. The sword, the lance, which Wilftuh nowbdstows Proved fatalembleias'of suoc^edla^ wow. ' The Norman Prinoe,.for action then.pr^pawd, With re-infor6«rient8, to^ the fierd repaired. The Britons posted on the Offet-non's banks Await the «oiifliot,'*rith embattled ranks. ' Those rival iStatei,thatTfiv«r did divide, And long by it, th«nr frontiers' did abide. Near the rightbank, the Noniian army halts, And is exttfndedfor two great assaults. Here of the whole, eUte of all the land The warlike William, takes supreweeolniiMnd In three divi«SDni,rhe his fereedlvideg, And both the T^irfg»,-to veteran «kill%0Bfi*» One wing despatched, to cross the streato afoot^ Is, on that flank, to make decisive'iddve ; ' -oe other, Ox-uered to erosH ©'•er below Was, on the right, to strike a fatal blow. 27 Himself the centre, as reserre, obeya ; And thus the soldier, his forethought displays, With him was Harold, and each Saxon knight, All prompt to act, to swell the coming fight. The ebbing tide, in Oo6snon's tranquil stream, Has left vast shores, where sands of ocean gleam. The channel narrow, shallow in its course, Gives easy passage, to the Norman force. They form in ranks, to each assault advance. With sword, with shield, and the unerring lance. The right wing then, with all its foot and horse. Cross the dull stream, in strong, appalling force. Hugh d'Avranches, a chief of great command A famous soldier of the Norman land, * Leads this division, fronts embodied hosts. And, dauntless now, assails the hostile posts. With skill and valor, Conan doth oppose Compact battalions, to these mighty foes. With them he holds, the adverse river bank, ' Prepared to meet, resist, in front and flank. Then hand to hand, in conflict close arrayed. They desperate courage, warlike skill, display d Now the brave Britons, the high banks defend. Then, in pursuit, some on the shore descend. D'Avranches fierce urges each advance, attack. While Conan firm, repels and hurls them back. Both mix in combat, lead Iheir squadrons now| Dread battle rages, bloody torrents flow. Along the bank, on the far-stretching shore. The carnage deepens, in that wild uproar. On rush the Normans, each defence assail, But all their fury cannot thus prevail. For Oonan's troops, with strong entrenchments round By matchless valor, firmly keep their ground. ' And bright the fame, which on that field was won Tho' on this page, their acts cannot be shown. *' i Pi ''[ n ill II ! ! 28 And some great chiefs, there fighting on that day, Thro' darker hour, will mightier deeds display. At length the Normans yield in slow retreat, And, falling back, sustain severe defeat. Then rush the Britons, furious on their rear. And slaughter spread, with conqnering sword and spear As they retreat, destruction now impends. For there a flat, in quagmires, far extends. This they approach ; the Britons drive them on ; They, still retreating, still are overthrown. And now these troops, involved in treacherous sands. The charge sustain, of Conan's dreadful bands ; And, hardly press'd by that fierce, gathering host, They fly, they scatter, are dispersed and lost. While this repulse, is on the right sustained, Upon the left, the Britons had maintained Firm ground against the onset of the foe. And hurled his squadrons to the beach below. Montgommerie : ' ere a fierce assault had made, And utmost valor in the fight displayed ; But the brave Britons his attempt had met. And drove him back with prompt and dire defeat. To his support Duke William had repaired. With strong reserve, and soon his peril shared. A force he lieft to Harold's sure command. With Norman knights and his own Saxon band. To aid D'Avranches, should he then fail to gain The adverse bank, or a defeat sustain. This chief still struggles 'gainst o'erwhelming force, While in the sands, his infanty and horse Are deep involved, and wild disorder grows, Before the charge of his triumphant foes. Prince Harold waits, refuses to relieve, Till all the Britons, their entrenchments leave : Then down the bank, from the opposing heights. Prompt to the rescue, rush these Saxon knights. !i lh!l 29 Brave Normans follow, quick the stream passed o'er, They fiercely charge, along the blood-stained shore. Great Harold leads them in that perilous scene, And ne'er more dreadful, in grim war had been. Like fiery bolt, descending from the cloud, Or the first wave, on ocean's tidal flood, Or the fell sweep, of the Sirocco's breath, He hurls these squadrons, on the ranks of death. His mighty arm, spreads carnage on his path j The Britons pause, re-coil before his wrath. The struggling Normans, now the Saxon's care, Were rescued, saved, tho' many perished there. These shattered forces, Harold at their head. Quick rallying there, against the foe were led, That bloody conflict, with undying hate. Was then renewed, strange scene in Harold's fate; The Britons slow, to their defences fled, Prom that wide shorej now covered with the dead. Conan's right wing, Duke William had o'erthrown,, Tho' the fierce struggle fearful there had grown. Now the two wings, their separate force combine, And slow advance, in firm and dreadful line. Here short retreat, the Britons promptly made, , Yet steady courage, in the fight displayed. They halt, re-form, confront their Norman' foes, And to the onset, their whole strength oppose. On sloping ground, their ranks in deep array. Await th' assailants, near the close of day. These hostile hosts, in headlong fury meetj Alternate vanquish and sustain defeat. The proud Duke Conan, young, yet skilled in war. , Bounds o'er the field, each peril then to share. Charges are made, fierce combats lost and wob And, thro' them all, the Britons' valor shone. ' And Conan's charger, bore him thro' the fray,. Where many a warrior, fell upon that day.. ' 4i m I .1 m ! "I" I 30 A distant p^g^, fa this long lay, will show The mournful doom, which laid young Conan low : How early death, eclipsed his rising name, And cut him oflFfrom hopes of brighter fame.— But I must hasten on my lengthening way, Nor linger here, his triumphs to pourtray. His fiery courage, 'mid the battle's roar. That valiant youth, through scenes of carnage bore. Inured to arms, in many a former lield, To few did he, in daring valor yield ; By few was he, in strength of frame excelled ; Nor in dread war, was nobler chief beheld. But slight advantage aould the Normans claim, Tho' great their deeds, and high their martial fame. The battle rages, all their dariag show. While various fortune, marks the contest now. Duke William, Harold, foremost then were seen, Where the worst storm of battle dark had been. In those dread eonflicts, closely side by side, These chiefs renowned did thro* the battte ride. Borne on his barb> conspicuous to the light. The warlike Norman, sought the thickest fight j While Harold eage#, fierce, and valiant too, With mighty arm, opposing hosts o'erthrew. They spread destruetton thro' the ranks of war, Smote in the front, on flank, and in the rear. Those mighty ohieft, unmatched, unrivalled, stood. In strength and valor, on that field of blood, And none would yield, while there w, hope or life, So night, at length, descended on their strife. Slowly each chief, eaeh army, then retires. And far around, bright blaze their bivouac fires. The following day, they doubtful war renew, mo Sicsuaci uuMF, loe Dtooay contest grew. Tho' their manoeuvres show their warlike skill, Complete success i$ undecided still. ^ And Conan slowly yields to hia grpat fpea, But, in retreating, skill and firoi^noss show^. Weary, in time, both Norm^a, Britpn8,.grew:.; And peace those chiefs, w.ere eagfx to renew. Faint waxed tfie war, andithen.a tr,ufi€).efl^qed;: The contest ceased, and proiflpt a peac€| wag.qui^c^, By it Duke WiUi*mi,l*ontor^ia hf,d,gftii^ed>. And long th{iittown,,to N,ormai^^y. remained,; William and Har,old, in that w^p appeared, By mutual friendship), mpre and; more ei^(^e{ured> And when no more thp, diq of l^attle r,oaf>,. Together there, tl^os^Pr^nqea sopght rfiposa. One tent they sharqd, in, riecreajtjp^i joined, And rare indeed,, qouldlp^C) Ijjce theirs' h^ fpui^^,^ Discourse they held, of:you]th| and; youthful d^ya,/ Of warlike deeds, {^^d l^firids' poetic lays^ ' O'er all the lanfi; ht^d, gone Prjwce* Harold's fapie,^ Where he remained, though time ofp^rlfngcame. He pleads, entreats, splipits, 4^y l>y, d^y. His leave to take, to,hp,3ten on his. way ; And William yielding, j;ieiljl^ hut, tp,l)etf:,ay. For unfulfilled wert;,tl|e great, N.orm^fi[3 ach^pfi Tho' still to Ha,rQld, kii^(i, q,^ f^aftk, he seems. Not thus that Prince, intends, l^p ^all d,ej)ar,tj Far deeper plot, filis th^tafabitiouBjheartf Kow he propqses, joined by mapy iporq, 'f" escort the: 3axjop^, to, that Nprtheri* shor;e, Whence they must sail, to greet tjheir na^ve land, And bid adieu to tl^p,t ill-fated, strand. And 'twas agreed tp ip^ke that jp^irn^y thfsn, With suit of l^nighta.ajad peers and> warlikjB n^pij^ The camp they leave, and all, th<},tf»ila. of- w^f. And travel ouj and closest fnpq4s^ip. share, To sweet Avranches, a. tow!^, o£ ai^pient name, With hearts elate, with both tl^eir suites, tjjpy. C^l)ie. And all-confiding, H^xpl4 now bad gronfrn, By courtiera aeen, vi4.w^^i<*?;"V!?illiap» ^aojKij. 33 t " .111 If!! The Nonnan Prince, in all his thoughts had shared Nor by aught then, was Harold's trust impaired. ' No gesture, word, or act, however slight. Had damped his zeal, or did distrust excite, Still more the Saxon scorned the vulgar thought That his betrayal, William ere had sought. ' Such candor, truth, his host still seems to show, While vielding all, deep friendship could bestow. Near to Avranches, and upward to the skies^ The lonely heights of Mont St. Michel rise. That rocky isle in Oancal's gloomy bay. Dark o'er the deep, thro' many a vanished day, Had there Uhstood, the waste of Earth's decay. Two thousand years of sunshine and of storm, Had not impaired its grand and mystic form. There fir^t the Druid, then the Roman, taught, Their sacred rights, with Pagan error fraught. By time, by conquest, these were swept away, To be replaced by lights of brighter day. There at that time, and from a distant age, An Abbey rose, abode of many a sage. There royal pilgrims, hermits, sought repose, And at its shrine had breathed immortal woes. Around that spot, traditions dim and old. Had spread dark tales, this page may not unfold. Upon those heights, that sacred structure stood ; And midway down, long known for deeds of blood In later times, a dismal dungeon frowned Where noble victims, broken hearts had found. There perished youth, the beautiful, the brave*; There laurelled names, oft found the manikc's grave There lonely grief, thro' wild despair by day, And night's pale dreams, had worn life's hopes away: The Abbay now, in solemn grandeur stands High o'er that scene, long known in distant'lands, ' And from its walls, as far us eye could see. Broad lay in view, the realms of Normandy ; 33 While more remote, by mountain and o'er plaiflj Rose the proud homes of Brittany and Maine. And far to sea, and sdatte^edi lay in eighty Some smaller isles, of less imposing height; The vapory clouds which often gather there, Give to that region a mysterious air Of nameless gloom, oft heightened hj th& roar Of ocean's wrath, upon that sterile shore. . That sacred spot, had claimed Duke William's care , And long he sought its splendor to repair. ' An Abb6 learned he named some years before Who, by strict rule, was eager to restore ' A holy order to these priestly men, Who in by-paths too long had wandered then. Roget the name that famous Abb^ bore^ Of noble birth, of deep and varied lore.*^ Now on their way, so near that mountain isle A visit there, the Duke proposed the while. ' Strange scene it was, and curious to behold And famed had been, through troubled time's of old- Thence to survey, as far as reach of eye, The wondrous regions which around it lay, To see that dungeon, mark that acient shriLe One breathing woes, the other hopes divine To Harold seemed, in soft and careless mood A time, a spot, with interest deep imbued * 'Twas early Autumn, and the tinted skies* Soft spread on high, their gorgeoua canopies; And summer's glory, facing at that time, With sadder hues, pervades that ocean clime. So great Prince Harold, with confiding heart, To Wilham yields, and few with them depart. The isle they reach, as the last golden ray Of cloudless sunset, marks the dose of day The monks receive them, on that island shore, And to the Normany eager welcome bore. 2a 'Ill u Prince Harold too, wu greeted u « gnest Of the great Duke, and as his friend addressed. The Abb^ walks, the mighty cbiefii between. Who, in ascending, linger o'er that scene. Some gather round, some follow close behind, As up the mountain, still their footsteps climbed. Slowly they gain, the vast and rocky height, "Where they are each, besought to pass the night. The Dukes eomply, and cheerfully prepare For sober diet, and the vesper prayer. Of rich repast, they sumptuovsly partake. And hours are passed, in grave and friendly talk. Now on the summit, round the mountain's brow, High o'er the sea, which laved the rocks below, A pathway led, along the dizzy height, A winding way, receding from tke sight. Hewn in the rook, unworn it stil! appears, 'Cho' trod by footsteps of a thousend years. In early days, Duke William there had been ; Bis eye had dwelt upon that wondrous scene. Alone those chiefs, went forth at solemn hour, Along that path, until they reached a tower. An ancient tower, upon the rocky steep, And there for ages, looking o'er the deep. Around its basement, many a fragment lay, For time had worn its strong defence away. Here they sat down, in the dim world of night. Like two great eagles, pausing from their flight. On the high branches of some lofty tree, Near river bank, or rooted by the sea. All earth was still, nor cloud in the for skies, While, lingering thore, they saw the moon arise, And o'er the world diffuse her tender beams. Beneath whose light, the slumbering ocean gleams. The sighing winds are sinking to their sleep, Lulled in soft cradles of the ■Urery deep. a& The wandering w»tWj J*|1^ on, the rockg na m^orp,^ But break in ma^mars, rptmi^ the S9s-b«at ahpre. ' Bright twinkling stars aire sinlj(ing in the west, ' Those worlds of Mfht, ^here m^n have hoped focr<)8( : And, like the spleii^dojr of soQiQ eastern clime. A soft repose hangs o'er thi^t sc^i^e, svblJme. There, 'mid the sil^^^^ of t^t ^runquil hour, When dark o'o? a^l, d^elt ni|f^Jt's mjsterious powe^, Great William sat, yr'ifb, a^x^9«», thought o^ipressed, And thus at length, Pi^inpe ^a^Ql4 ^e addressed: ' " Harold, my guest, nor less mj friend tho!^ art ; And ere thou goest, to thee I -^itrould ivpar^ A solemn secret, wbicl^ affectfi| our &te, And thou shouldist k^ow, before i^ p^oye too^ Uta. Between us now, 9, las^ng league 9ho,nld be : In thee I trust ; pjlace thou thy faith in m?. When Edward sojourae^ at tlji^ Noj^u co.urt, His home selected, for a Ip^g ^^QOi^t, Oft he declared, and then his thpughts ^ere (rep, That should he ere, hu n^tiye co^ntry s^e. Ascend that throne, which then SO distant a^^pd, Though of that crow» by day e^^i ni^fbt he ^reamed, He would remember the g^ei^t debt he biorp To me, his friend,— his, friend and aomethiqg moM. And oft he spoke, of the grej^t Claims I'd ^f on, To his regard, for acta of kindi^ess done. And later too, perc|:fance ^liou art awa^^, He has proclaimed, th^t ? should be b,l3 l^eir. He his affection, at W? court displayed, And told me then, thfit bis depree w^s made ; That Edgar's mind, tho' he wa^ i^ext to reigp, Was young, too week, (Ipminipu to m^ii^tain, O'er a proud race, diyided and 90 frep, And hence his crown, mu^t soon deyplye on mp. That great event, ii^ tri^th if 4n»^ing nigh : ' Be frank with mp ; cfp f 9^1 thpe yply ?'» - ■s 36 As the great Korman, did the., thoughts declare, With dire amazetaent, Harold heard him there. Now Edward's warning, smote upon his heart, And those dark fears, which Ulf sought to impart. With Tirid light, now flash'd upon his view The Norman's hopes, all then, alas I too true! To such demand, what answer could he make? What path was near, which he could safely take? Twere vain, he deem'd, assent now to refuse. And yet too base, a different course to chose. Assent withheld, a dungeon did await Him thus entrapped,-.perchance a darker fate. Duke William had, his plans so well concealed. That not till now, this secret he revealed, When he had made him famous thro' the land, And Harold'3 hopes and character had scann'd Before a crime, he would not now recede. Nor fail his course, to crown with cruel deed. Could he consent and thus his life enthral. Or could he later, such great pledge recall ? Still for his brother, did the Saxon fear, That brother loved, and Haco held so dear. Thus for himself, and still for time to gain, And for these kinsmen, their release obtain. He calmly spoke, but spoke with faltering thought And, by these words, evasion then he sought : ' " To thee I have an oath of fealty sworn ; I would repeat the pledges by it borne. In any form thou mayst from me command, ' To make that promise, public through the land. Beyond that oath, I could not, dare not go,' Nor closer alliance with a Norman show. * To that extent, my friendship I'll declare,-. To that exteht, thy plans and hojes I share, -o promise more, would be a 4;Hme in me • And more to ask, would be a fault ih the©'" 8f The Norman Duke Intently Harold eyed, And then to him thus artfully replied : , " My noble Harold, this would be no more Than the knight's oath, thy chieftains freely sworo. If to that oath, another thou wouldst add, That thou my daughter AdcHze wouldst wed, And let thy sister be betrothed by me, To some great noble of supreme degree : And promise further, and in solemn form, (This great compact and union to confirm,) Thou wouldst receive me on the English shore. And aid my cause, when Edward is no more. This would be just, would closely, us unite. Secure success by our resistless might. This from our paths, each peril then would chase. And save from war, thy great and cherished race ; For my firm hope, is to achieve my aim. To gain that throne, and spread the Norman name. This I'll pursue, from every fear esempt. And will prevail, or die in the attempt. Ileflect on this, and let thine answer hr. For thy renown, for union still with me." Saw Harold now, how strangely ho had erred, When he that project from the Norman heard. In seeking then, just answer to evade, Before the Duke had such proposal made, That he in public, a new oath would make, And fresh engagements to the Norman take. At this the Duke, surprised as well as pleased, With eager hope that offer then had seized, And, as compulsion on his actions* pressed, Such fault could not be easily redressed. Tho' this great oath, he knew he could not make, Nor for h\a nwn nr>" ^^r kJ- .-x- . • .- _!._ J.. I.J Ht,, ,„J- Q^g j.yymj.y.g gjijjg Yet other oath, in solemn words, he'd sware. And private promise to the Duke would bear. ii "' ' m iiiii'i i if 3$ Since force were used, he i<>q^ oomW l^ a^s^l^ed, And thia the hope, he in l^ mind revolved. And now^ consenting, secrect pledge to p^ke^ He might s%y much, ^),ut not as oath would take. Long then he mused, with i^nxioua thought oppresfed, Then calmly thug, the Jforman he Mdreased : " If, in addition to the path I ?wore, I now declare, when Edward ia no more, Thy claims in council, | wiU ^ot oppose, Should great debate ^bqut th^ crpwn aria? j And if their king, the nation should elect, Free from my influence, thee they may select ; And thould their ch(U(?e, then freely on thee fail, Thou'lt find me faithful, prompt, at thy g^e^it call. Would not such oath, prove aU thou couldst requirp, And firmest faith and trust in me inspire ? Yet more ; I will advauce, will then promote thy cau?e, And claim foy it, the nation's jugt applause. But Edgar still, is Engr^nd's rightful heir, And he succeeding, I am free as air. This pledge thus given, do thou t\s freely ta^ce, And this great oatb, I publicly wiU make. If thus indeed, thou wishest me tp swear. Declare the day, the sauction, form, and where. To thee alone, I further promise give- Be this concealed while thou and I sl^all live— I'll give thee freely all the ^id I c^p. And will sugg-est, wUl name thee, as the ^s^n Whom England shpuld select, and thee alone. To fill with honor, Edward'? vacant throne. I promise too, thy daqghter to espouse. As honored wife ; my Bister to dispose ' To some great noble of the Normafi land, Whom she shall marry at thy choice, command- And in return, dear Qhjpct of pay heart. Then home witfe m, mj ^jrQ^er shai^ 39 Thus far I go, to meet, great Prince, thy prayer, The' late declared ; no more may Saxon dare." The crafty Norman, silent then remained. Till mildly thus to Harold he complained : " Thou dost distrust me, tho' in candor still, To thee thus freely [ declare my will. I thought thou wouldst more friendly zeal display, And leave me grateful to a later day. But as thou say'st, so let our compact be ; Thou'lt ever find, unfailing friend in me. In my great council, summoned at Bayeux. Thine oath pronounce, and be its promise true 1" In William's projects, Harold thus concurred, Consenting feebly, and with heedless word. Oh I better far had that great warrior died. Then act this part, where honor could not guide. A noble heart, but too infirm of soul. His spirit failed him, in that fatal role. Had Harold then, a firm resolve maintained. And his great part of Saxon Prince sustained 5 Had he stern answer of a patriot made, Nor at that hour, such anxious doubts betrayed ; Had he repelled, with calm and cold rebuke, Th' insiaious offers of the Norman Duke, Perchance that Prince, all ruthless as he proved. Had been with awe, at Harold's grandeur moved. Perchance that oath, which darkened his career, Would not like shadow on his fume appear. So weakness first, invades the human heart. And, by dei^rees, subdues each nobler part, Till, all enthralled, we wander to and fro. Lost in wild paths, which end in nameless woe. Stern, lofty min^s, resist the first approach, And ne'er permit, to enter, or encroach, That which, admitted, makes its ready way, Clouds the bright soul, and leads pure hearts astray. 40 ! M! ) i i ; Yet proudest children of our race unblest Are often those, of yielding souls possest.' Man s strength is weakness ; and the loudest scorn For earth's lost ones, oft meets a doom forlorn. When the heart pines not, and the blood runs cold, When passion's madness, is subdued, controlled. We glide m safety, o'er a waveless sea, ZIT" t;*^ '"'''''^''^ '''''' ^°"' perils, free. AnH », *i^ , '"''"''' ^^'^ ^^°"^^ «^°* 0"t the moon, And the soft glories of the sky are gone. Silence reigns there ; the weird repose of night • And deepening gloom invests that lonely height Darkness broods then, o'er earth and on the deep. And veils their path along the rocky steep. Short time they lingered, Harold's promise made, While cold distrust, they mutually displayed. The hour has come, and they, at length, must part, William sedate, but Harold sad at heart ' Soft sleep came not, tho' its repose they sought. For great their cares, and keen each an:.ious thought. William's vast schemes, with fell intent combined. Now banished rest from his ambitious mind Dread thoughts, dCep anguish, visit Harold'^ brain And life s sweet sleep, can never come again There king and country, perils still to come, ' Here his own freedom, and his kinsmen's doom. His friendship, honor, cruelly betrayed : Himself, of all, he chiefly must upbraid The tints of dawn, were in the Eastern skies. Ere sorrow^ Bleep, had closed great Harold's eyes ThenceTh'^'J '^*"' '''' "^' ^^^-^'^^ -- -rej Thence they depart, toward another shore A numerous train of nobles with them went. And their high prestige to that journey lent Tho' William sought. Prince Harold still to sway ret small discourse, they hold upon the way 41 Encompassed now by a resistless power, Deep his regrets that he, in fatal hour, ' King Edward's warning had not duly weighed And, in the Norman, trust complete displayed • But yet he promised, and evaded, still, ' With dubious accents, and a wavering will. Granville they reach, that fortress of the sea, As fair a spot, as eye of man could see. The lofty heights, which look upon the deep The waves of ocean, from the city keep. ' Known then it was, as it was famed of old, For women beauteous, and of matchless mould One night they stay, and then Coutances they seek. Which, having gained, another halt they make Coutances was once a seat of Roman powen Of warlike strength, in her triumphant hour. There, Flavian legions, long and well withstood. Barbarian conquest, both by land and flood There dwelt Helena, mourning by that shore. Cpnstantius there, the Caesar's laurel wore. That lowly seion, of a humbler race, Knew from Constantius, woman's last disgrace. ItLf" T" """"^'^^ ^''"* ^""^^'^ ^'"P^"*! throne She saw the crown of her immortal son. And the renown of Oonstanline the Great ?hl?Tlf/ '''"' ^'^ ""^^^^^'^ «»°"rnful fate. Thence to St. Lo, they wend their easy way, Which place they reach, on the succeeding day. At length the towers of the famed Bayeux Now meet the sight, far in the distant view. And kindness, court'sey, beam on Willam's brow As they approach, that scene of Harold's woe. ' To that great castle, they repair in state, ^bere one foul deed, soon clouded Harold's fato. Within those walls, as prisoner, he must stay. While, m suspense, he waits the coming day BOOK THIRDi li ID Jl 'i Meeting of the National Council of Normandy, at Bayeux.— Harold's appearance before it.~~His oath, and his dis- covery qfthe deception, oj which he is made the victin^^ by the treachery of the Duke, of Normandy.-— His an- guish of Tfiindonbecoming aware that he had sworn (m^ holy relics. — The adjournment of the Council, and subse^ quent interview betu^een William. O/nd, Harold.— Speeches by botji. — The Sfinquet afterwards^ an4 the departure^ df Harold fpr England. [Two days are occupied by the eyentq of this book, and the scene is at the Castle of Bayeux, ai»d by the s^ea-shore, on the coast of Normandy.] In council now, the Lords of Normandy, Proud chieftains of a -^^arlijce chivalry ;, Men of deep thought, and holy prelates top, Assembled were, by edict, at 9ayeux. By promise bound, Prince Harold then came there, An awful oath, with solemn rites, to swear. 1 fatal act I accursed and baneful hour, Which gave the Saxon to the Norman's power, To vast designs, which William dared proclaim, Harold thus lent the sancti.on, of his name : He, by that oath, to, his grea,t fop resigned, His freedom, honor, and best hopes, combined. A deed of death! of dire and dreadful note, Which on his fame, his life and country brought, 49 Tremendous doom, deep woo- of later years ; Whence England's downfall, sealed with blood and tears. In royal state, with naked sword in hand, egirt with ensigns of supreme command, ligh William sat : hard by, great Harold stood', And, with him, warriors of the Saxon blood. His brother Ulf^ the nephew whom he loved. Close by his side, that fatal deed' reproved. Both these detained, long held, by William there> Were guarded still, and watched with jealous care. These brothers oft, along the Thames had strayed^ In their young days^ and on its banks had played : ^ Eventful years, their love had not impaired, And keenly now, each other's grief they shared. On William's right, and manked to public view, Prince Odo sat, the Bishop of Bayeux : His brother he^the same whose public crimes Great Williaii saw— rebuked in after times. And near his sovereign, but below tke throne. Stood great Lanfranc, in counsel deep, alone. Long held in honor by the Norman Prince, Could one so great, his sanction now evince, Of act so base, perfidiously designed. And darkly prompted by some ruthless mind ? 'Tis needless here, still loftier names to tell ; A later record will proclaim them all. Men of renown, and valor, stood that day Before their chief, in proud and bright array ; Sedate their mien, and calm each high-born eye. Could they behold great Harold's agony, His darkened brow, which spoke a sense of shame, Of treason branded on a mighty name. Without regret, perchance reproach, that he, Of tyrant force, a victim thus should be ? Great Princes, Priests, and men of thought profound. By William thus, in that dark deed were bound -, ! mi !l III J I I ! 'I Hilii i'l liiliilli 44 Kor could the later glories which they won, Gild the foul wrong, their treachery had done. Before the nobles of the land had yet, Within that hall, in solemn conclave met, The Duke had caused (oh! dark, ignoble thought!) The bones of saints, in secret, to be brought. There in a shrine, concealed by cloth of gold, In many a fragment, lay those relics cold. Upon the cloth, two caskets rare were placed, On which some words mysterious then were traced. Those smaller shrines, adorned with precious stones, As symbols stood, unsanctifled with bones. No sacred object met the Saxon's eye. Nor thus could he that odious fraud descry. William's friendship— still more, that solemn scene, Those princely men, deception could not mean ; And holy ones, who then their presence gave, To that great council of the wise, the brave, Would each assert, what all alike beheld. That this strange oath, by force was now compelled. Constrained to swear, such oath could never bind ; So Harold deemed, and sternly stood resigned. Thus all assembled, in long order stand, And caluly there, await that chiefs command. With courteous mandate, to that senate high. While o'er the whole, he casts a monarch's eye; He all enjoins, appointed seats to take. That Harold might new oath of fealty make. These silent sat ; and then the Norman chief. In accents mild, in words precise and brief, Prom his high place, the breathless silence broke, To Harold turned, and thus impressive spoke : "Illustrious Harold, Prince of vast renown. To all now here, our friendship well is known ; And in our presence, thus these Princes greet ' Our coming here, thy fealty to repeat. Warriors renown'd, great prelates, as you see, Men known to fame, and each of high degree, By me convoked, expressly now appear, In thy great honor, and thine oath to hear. That solemn oath, I will not now decline, Before our God, and on that holy shrine. Not that alone, but I thine oath receive, With the intent, my subjects should believe, And ever prize, our league thus freely made, That my just cause, thou faithfully wilt aid. So thou dost swear, when Edward is no more, Thou wilt receive me on the English shore; Assist my purpose to ascend the throne. Oppose all others, and their claims disown. So bound by oath, our interests still require, (Bright hopes for thee, such wishes now inspire ) That thou to wife, young Adelize shouldst take'. And give thy sister, to the choice I make." Harold arose with gesture of surprise. At oath so dread, and claimed without disguise With rising anger, he the Norman eyed, And promptly thus, tho' calmly, then replied • "Illustrious Prince, such promise I have made To you alone, and would it were unsaid I That secret pledge, I here to all admit : Yet thus to swear, should honor now submit? An oath so grave, becomes alone the free And if constrained, can it as binding be?' Your friendship. Prince, I would not here disown. Nor yet your courtsey, nor your great renown : But to my country, and m^ race is due, A higher faith than can be claimed by you. And if in this, I deep repugnance show, 'Tis to convince you that my duty aow This oath condemns, reproves this pledge of nOne. Nor should I thus, allegiance all resign. 46 Compulsion may my ftctiona now control, But daijkest dangers shall not away my soul : That still, at least, from all coercion free, 'Midst present perils, all unstained shall be. This protest hear, before these nobles made, Mark well the words, in which it is conveyed. Should this great oath, against me be invoked, By this reserve, all sanction stands revoked : But now coerced, my promise I confirm. And this new oath, will swear in solemn form." Thus Harold spoke. The Norman, undismayed. To Odo turned, and gave a sign which said,— Obey my orders— promptly let it be ; Receive the oath, and. leave the rest to me. From his high place came Odo forth alone. Great Harold sought, and spoke in whispered tone ; Then led the way, the Saxon by his side, Towards the altar for the oath supplied. Lanfranc, the monk, close followed in their train. With mien composed, and eye that could restrain. Those haughty tassals, and their chief could sway. In all his pride, and teach him to obey. With solemn step, across that statUy hall. The three passed on : the Saxon Prince, withal, His fame to blight before those princely men. While looks of wrath, defiauce, gather'd then, In his blue eye, and on his lofty brow, As he advanced, before that council now. The spot he reached, where those cold relics lay With fierce emotion, words cannot pourtray ; And tho' he knew, remonstrance then were vain Yet could it be, that he must hear again. Prom his own lips, that outrage of the Duke, Nor him upbraid, in terms of stern rebuke I Yes! now defenceless, heM in hostile land. This will release hhn from the Norman's hand. 47 He faltered first, and then, to fate resigned, That oath he swore, but with averted mind. With his right hand, the holy sign he made, While on the shrine, the left he gently laid. In tones distinct, and with a fluent tongue, Odo repeats that oath from Harold wrung. Then with look fixed on William's lordly brow, The Saxon spoke, in tones of secret woe : " I swear, as soon ns Edward is no more, I will receive you on the English shore ; Assist your purpose to asceiid the throne, Oppose all others, and their claims disown : Adelize to wife, I promise then to take, And give my sister to the choice you make." As on his lips, each word successive died, So, one by one, were treasons multiplied ; And vows were made, big with anation's fate, And woes to Harold, time could not abate. He added then,--so quick his thought re-acta,— " If I have life, and God approve my acts." The vast assembly with one voice exclaimed, " If God approve what you have here proclaimed." And now Lanfranc, the caskets both removed, From oflf the cloth, and thus, alas 1 approved, The secret fraud, about to be revealed. And, from that council, studiously concealed. Calm Harold stood, tho' anxious grew his eye, As now he gazed upon that mystery. A pause ensued, 'mid looks of doubt, surprise, And William then enjoined them all to rise, That by a closer, and a clearer view, They all might judge and testify how true, How great the oath, which Harold thus had sworn, How dread the sanction, that same oath had bofse. By order, Odo raised the cloth of gold. And bare to sight, disclosed the relics cold. 4C . f Harold beheld them : horror seized his heart, His hand he clasped with a convulsive start, His eye flashed fire, his brow grew dark as night, As ho receded from that ghastly si^'ht. Tho' his lip quivered, and his cheek was pale. No words he spoke ; they could not now avail. A victim thus of a perfidious fraud, Too well he knew, how widely spread abroad. Thro' every land where Christian rights were known, That deed would be, and as a crime be shown. Such holy relics, in those distant times, In awe were held, despite transcendant crimes • And when on those, a solemn oath was made Such vow to break, the boldest were afraid. He had so sworn, tho' treachery there might be I He was so bound, could aught now set him free ? And Harold's doom, and England's mightier fate. From that dark hour, their sad decline must date. Thence flowed the tide of conquest o'er these isles Long, well prepared, by William's secret wiles. The boundless woes, which fell on Harold's race To that dread source, a later age may trace. As slowly he, from that dread shrine withdrew. Those high-bom men perceived full well how true, The inward anguish, Harold then controlled. And sorrow moved, in hearts not wholly cold. Stern and impassive, William still remained. While breathless sUence, thro' that council reigned. And mighty nobles, the great hall around, Await the mandate of that chief renown'd. Lanfranc and Odo, to their seats returned. Approached the Norman, and his orders learned : And them aloud, by proclamation made. The Senate's labours for that day were stayed : Debate nor counsel, did they there pursue And gladly then, those nobles all withdrew. 49 Outaide, abroad, thQ^rowing rumbar flies, Excites the many, and confonmda tlie wise : Great Harold's oath, on aaered relics sworn, Wide, far around, on wings of fame is borne. Within tbat.eutle, bUilt by warUIce men, Were regal halls, adorned with splendor then ; The stately home, thro' many a vanished year, Of mighty chiefs, in long sojournings 4here. The Norman now, with Harol^ toak his way To that high place, where those apartments lay. Silent gnat Hwold went; for sudden.grief, Within his heart, nor hopes, nor Seeks, relief. No words could now, )the8« bitter papgs reveal, Nor yet from Willtam, such deep- wounds conceal. All now was known ; at leaglbj too pUin appeared, WhUe from suoh foe^ «i darker fete be feared. That foul betrayal, show'd that chief too well, And what might follow, where his fury fell. By long deception,' he had sought to bind, In fatal bonds, his free and patriot mind. And now this oath might rule his future fate. Thus sworn. oa relics, known, alas I- too late. No glorious deeds, no fame which he might share, Could e'er for him, so great a fcult repair. That feai^ul vow would mar all future fame, On him bestow, a. foul, dishonoredname. He had betrayed his race, a nation's cause ^ His noblest acts could claim n» more ^plause. He England?^ pri^ a^^ people's latest liope. Could hardly npw, witli' Dane oi Norman cope. Her old renown, her safety held so dear, His father's glory, and his own career 5 That 8hadow7ihojie,r scarce formed within his breast, Yet passing there, like dreum or vision.blest ; A hope he rarely to> himself mtst own, That he one day wonld fill the English throne, 3 M m All perilled thna, in one diiaatroni honr, In iuch a cause, for bo aoearsed a power I The path of conquest, dark before him lay ; The traitor he, to point that fatal way. He who ere now, dread foe. as widely known, So oft had njet,-in conflict overthrown : He who had vanquished, with his valiant arm. To shield the throne, from peril and alarm : Thus sell his country, his great trust betray. To the fierce Norman, and his iron sway I To haunt his spirit, like a troubled dream Fo!t ^uTi' '"**"*'^' ^""*^ now Kjonid read, In thT! i . f ''' ^"'^ ^*"* "''• ^^- »»-' Weed In that dread hour, of darkly clouded fate, And keen remorse, which ever comes too late. With honor lost, his fame forever gone. And stained with guilt, which time could not atone No word of triumph, fh)m the Norman broke. But mildly thus, he to the Saxon spoke • "My kinsman Harold, weJl hast thou redeemed •l^IJTV'^' '^''°"«'* "'•-^ "^'^y ^ deemed, •Prom all my favors, more securely mine, No faith I value, as I value thine, r, • v Near my great throne, thine honored post shall be • My trust I place, my surest hopes, in thee " ' After short pause, with cdld, rebukeful eye. Great Harold thus to William made reply "Those courteous words, my soul canno't relieve. 'Of one great fault, my lot will be to grieve : And this my fault, that I, in evil hour, My freedom placed, in your remorseless power. U this dark deed, this oath, the proof to be ? ^r&oU, forsooth, you freeiy now applaud : And well you might, but for this odious fraud. 61 Still, oath ao awful, will ere long inrolre Questions too vast for us alone to soire ' Biit words are rain. To-morrow I depart, With a reproachful, self-upbraiding heart Your promise made, I now from you must claim : In this at least, be free from further blame. ' Those kinsmen loved, my coming was to greet, Yield up to me ; their freedom I entreat. Their presence here, cannot secure your throne ; And this last act, may for the past atone. Their lonely exile, now In truth should cease, And my dread oath, secure them their release. This much I ask ; now grant me but this prayer, The rest in silence, I must calmly bear. This end attained, I then will take my leave, Of shores so hostile, hoping to retrieve, My honor perilled, acts of weakness shown, Your faults forget, and expiate my own." Surprise the Norman showV^ but no regret • Stern his resolves, which never faltered yet : * His boundless pride, his keen, aspiring mind, Sought all to sway, by hope and fear combined. With spirit cast in rude but stately mould. His iron will, grew fierce and uncontrolled. A soul so firm, and seldom taught to yield, O'er other minds, did force resistless wield. But chiefly he upon his speech retained Complete control and cold reserve maintained. His pregnant words, pronounced in tone sedate, Bespoke a mind profound, but not elate. He seemed to rule his passions fierce at will, And others swayed, with ease and matchless skill. Yet when he sought, by courteous arts to please. He argued, praised, discoursed, with fluent ease : He hope encouraged, slumbering fears awoke, C ould cogent reasons, for each ac t evoke. Tho' now secure, time and eventa to wait, For Harold struggled in the grasp. of fate; And tho' that oath, full answer had supplied. Yet thus diffuse, he artfully repliedr . « This self-reproach, thia^ensure, is unjust. Why these regrets, this real- or feigned distrust ? I8 this thy friendship ? Is it a fault in me, That I have placed implicit, trust in thee ?— To have disclosed the secrets of my soul To one so great, above all mean control? I from the first, a closer alliance claimed, And, when secured, must I, forsooth, be blamed ? When thus allied, by friendship and by blood. Will not mine aim still be our common good ? Are not my hopes, our empire to extend,— Our names, our glory, closer ^tUl to blend ? On Mont St. Michel, 'mid that night's, repose, Didst thou not freely this same oath propose : If not m words, in meaning stUl the same ? And, so agreed, we both to Bayeux came. These sacred bones, can they more freely bind. Thy future conduct, or thy princely mind,- mtiT^^^^^'*''"^'"' P^'^«« to friendship given, Which stands recorded, in the books of heaven ? Thy bitter words may wound, but not impair. That higher sanction, sure and sacred there. Nor can regrets, which thou mayst here repeat. Great Heaven's will, or my designs defeat. Thy lot was cast, beneath propUious stars; ' Mine has been darkened, by great public cares. So when my father to the Holy Land Went forth the leader of a warlike band. My early fate, he left to chosen men, , Who sought from me, ta wrest the Dukedom then nen^ ,eit, me nobm fealty.swore. And then revolted, 'gainst the trust I bore ; 63 Z^l'Ir^'^ ''"''' ^'''''^ '^^^ »« rose, Thl . ^ '''''''^' "^ *"°^* relentless foes. These one by one I met, and did subd.e. Their banded hosts and projects overthrew. My father died, and left me to contend With jealous kinsmen, seeking still to rend This fair dominion, from my sword, my sway And, to my fbes, my life and throne betray. Strong m my.right, confiding in my sword. BuJ wlT' ? ^°°^^«t the dangers I have shared • tTJZ' "'°^ '""' "o^-'y r«le impaired. These fierce, rude conflicts of my early years. Attest my fortune, but betray no fears. ' Itd"h . "Jw^ '^ ^'*^' "'^^'^*^"' «»3^ »rms, have won And bright the course, my valor still hath run ' So h/^ «f P««ence adds the mournful truth, So hard to learn, in manhood as in youth, Few hearts are fiathful, save among the free And hence I place this boundless trust in thee rJ?. ?7 '^^''''' -^^«^ beset my c own ^idst all those triumphs which I sinJe hTe Lnown No angry ^ord, no action, canst thou trace "' Against thy country, or the Saxon race. ' The Invi . ?""' ""^ deep affection flows. The love he bore me in my boyhood's years. Was well repaid, as from the past appears' ?2« Vl'^l"^^ '^^'^' **» fi" * tbrone 5 mo' thv ^" ^^^ry, hence, great Prince, tLine own, Pull weill Know, and would not question heri.) H« throne, when vacant, must descend to me.i - That gldtions crowa, mrheritage shall b«. 64 So he desires, and this his firm design, That his great sceptre should be freely mine. And if that kingdom e'er descend by wiU To him best fitted that high trust to fill, My power alone, can Edward then replacoi Resist invasion, and secure you peace. My former foes are baffled or expelled, And fierce revolt, has everywhere been quelled. Tears of repose, of growing wealth and power, May intervene, before that fatal hour. The veteran armies, of a martial race, Will in the march of future conquest trace, A growing circle of dominion wide, And, o'er far realms, impel the flowing tide Of that renown, foretold to Norman arms, Give lasting peace, and silence war's alarms; Plant the fair lineage, of a royal race. Whose sons to me, their lofty line will trace. If Saxon England, call me to the throne. My arms and armies, she will make her own. Then two great nations shall combined remain, Throughout the land, lo2g years of peace shall reign, And her own laws, stern justice shall maintain. Thus thou art pledged, and such thy sacred oath, Apart from relics, which attest tbj^ truth. To prove thy faith, thy brother leaive behind. And, for his safety, I mine honour bind. Thy nephew Haco, hither take with thee. But, as a guest, leave noble Ulf with me. This favor grant, and, when our league 's discuss'd. This act will prove the fulness of thy trust ; Proclaim our friendship and thy promise true, So may we each our lofty hopes pursue." ThuH vr>vOTM*«.«% i»s<. 4U— u^— ■«*■ ... — s . irtvttxiauf aia las uupca CXprCSiSCU J Him, in reply, the Saxon thus addressed : " I know, proud Prince, what your great 6oiiik hate been, Your laurels won, in many a glorious scene ; M And all those perils, stated now with truth, Which fiercely rose around jour lonely youth. And mighty foes, taught one and all to yield To skill, to valor, on the tented field. I know your power, the vast renown you claim, Your long success, the splendor of your fame. To Edward's friendship, all your rights I know, And great rewards on you he should bestow. In such discussion, I would claim no share, Nor is it mine, my wishea to declare. But of the kingdom he dare not dispose. To those who've been great England's deadly foes; And you should not, nor can you now forget, How much the Normans are distasteful yet, To all my race, nor what the task would be To force your rule upon a land so free. Tho' in your favor prove the monarch's will, The people love, revere, their Frinoes still ; Refuse they would, to recognise your clair^ Despite your strength, and all your martiai ne. Remember too, young Bdgar 's Edward's heir, A truth of wh;ch all England is aware. I fear, great Prince, your projects would excite Long wasteful wars, our nation's hopes would blight For should you e'er invade the Saxon soil. And seek by arms the kingdom to despoil. On hostile shores, you would as surely meet Their warlike hosts, perchance a dire defeat. Met by ihe fury of a nation's wrath, A thousand dangers would beset your path ; And should your arms triumphant o'er them prove, You'd plant your standards on a nation's grave. What then would follow? years of hopeless strife, Unheard-of woes, orimes, waste of human life.. Such are the perils, you would thus prepare, And these the blessings conquest w^ould confer. mn m N By conquest only, can yoa be secure^ And conquest only, can tbe throne ensure. My oath may bind/ ?ach act of- mine prove true, But, to succeed, all musidepind^on youw ' Candor forbids, your hppeBlishdold deceive ; Your arms alone, your trjumpkcan achieve.'^ ; -. The Norman Prince, his eye now flashing fire, - With stern control repressed his kindling ire ; Constrained he spoke, but scarce his wrath concealed, While every word his fiery thoughts revealed t " Why all these perils stiSdiously retrace, To me, theArriler of the Normad race ? . Dost thou concpive sti oh dangers would deter 'ui;^. ,. v. When my just rights-, and my best hopes concur ? More then all men's, toy spirit doth abhor, -,y„ The crimes, the horrors, of idl-wasting war ; v And when my rights by peace I can obtain, From arms, from- blood, I carefully abstain. < But when all other, better meara, have &iled, • Before stern war, my sword has never xjuailed* Bear this in mind, be thou exempt from; blame, And add fresh laurels to a mighty name. ! Thy glory now," thy country's intejreat ^till^ i Combine in this,— do thou thy part fulfiL ; Harold, on thee, henceforth, I will rely. , Your word alone, would bindia soul sa high ;> But that great oath, on sacred relics sworn. Hath to my cause, the highest sanction borne. Thine utmost eflforts in my cause I ask,; . And well I know, the greatness of the task. . These aims promote, redeem thy promise made,. Herein be true : = by strenuoua means persuade Thy Saxon iioUes of my high resolve j , Depict the perils,^ war -must needs isvolvdj If their resistancsl amdoomed 4o meet^ , - » Or should 'jUiey seek my projects to defeat. l! I ■i * St The feeble Edgar must Ws fete abide,^ He and his claims be ptomptlj set aside. With these great truths, be thou and all imytem > And count on me ; my feword will do the i^ebt. ^ First In my kingdom then shall-Harold stiirid; " = And next to me will hold his higfi cbintoiiid; Prom honor's path my steps trill not depkrt, For Heaven's will instructs and guides ik^ heAi^t i- But now no more j tune and success win pi^bre- • • That my best hopes are iri'th^ J)0wer8 above." ' ' Tho' calm the tone, in Which the Kormi&r ;ke • From his cold eye, awakening anger broke: ' This Harold saw ; each word, ea