LTY of CALEFORNi* 
 
 AT 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 LIBRARY
 
 OLD ENGLISH IDYLS 
 
 JOHN LESSLIE HALL 
 
 (TRANSLATOR OF BEOWULF) 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE 
 COLLEGE OF WILLIAM AND MARY 
 
 " England was conquered to the music of verse, 
 and settled to the sound of the harp." 
 
 STOPFORD BROOKE. 
 
 " No doubt, as they pushed the bows of their 
 long keels on to the shore of the Isle of Thanet, 
 they shouted short staves of verse with so great a 
 roaring that Gildas might well call them ' whelps 
 from the lair of the barbarian lioness.' " 
 
 STOPKORL) BROOKE. 
 
 BOSTON, U.S.A. 
 GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 
 1899 
 
 119851
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899 
 Bv JOHN LESSLIK HALL 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 TS 
 35" IS" 
 
 Dedication 
 
 1 1 hear in the chamber above me 
 
 The patter of little feet, 
 The sound of a door that is opened, 
 And voices soft and sweet. 
 
 'They climb up into my turret 
 
 O'er the arms and back of my chair; 
 If I try to escape, they surround me; 
 They seem to be everywhere." 
 
 LONGFELLOW.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE kind reception given my translation of Beoivnlf 
 by both philological and literary journals, by philologists 
 and litterateurs, has encouraged me to further work in 
 
 the same field. This time, however, I have indulged 
 ^> 
 ^X my own imagination, with some help from myth and 
 
 ' history ; and I shall hope for a larger audience than 
 before. 
 
 In the following pages I have tried to give a pano- 
 
 T ramie view of the Teutonic conquest of England and 
 of the heroic period of Old English, or Anglo-Saxon, 
 history. I have, as it were, assumed the role of an 
 
 ^ English gleeman of about A.D. 1000, and have sought 
 to reproduce to some extent the spirit, the metre, and 
 the leading characteristics of Old English verse. 
 
 As to details and technique, I have changed my mind 
 somewhat since I published the translation of Beowulf. 
 I have concluded that a reader who can enjoy allitera 
 tion on two lines out of three will willingly go farther. 
 Indeed, friendly critics of the translation referred to 
 have said that alliteration should have been used on
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 every line, as that work created a taste for alliteration 
 without satisfying it sufficiently. 
 
 In another matter also I have somewhat altered my 
 opinion namely, in regard to the juxtaposition of two 
 accented syllables ; and the Anglo-Saxon scholar will 
 find in this work a goodly number of C and D types, 
 along with the three (A, B, and E) used in my Beowulf. 
 
 In the preface to my Beowulf translation I referred 
 to Browning as using cadences closely resembling those 
 of Anglo-Saxon verse. I might have referred also to 
 Longfellow's Challenge of Thor and Nun of Nidaros, 
 and to Lowell's Gudrida s Prophecy, as showing that 
 these two poets felt the power of old Germanic metres. 
 In the same connection I would refer to Tennyson's 
 remarkable translation of the Battle of Brnnanburh and 
 to The Gleam, one of his latest published poems. 
 
 While the poets of the last generation were feeling 
 out towards these old metres, a great scholar of their 
 day in his public lectures 1 was yearning for a return to 
 the form and spirit of our ancient verse, and predicting 
 that there would some day be a renaissance of that form 
 and spirit. 
 
 Very recently Mr. William Watson and Mr. W. K. 
 Henley, two of the younger poets of England, have 
 made use of rhymeless measures closely resembling 
 
 1 George P. Marsh, Lectures on the English Language, Lecture XXIII.
 
 Preface. vii 
 
 those of Anglo-Saxon poetry. These are possibly due 
 to the study of the Anglo-Saxon poetry itself, or they 
 may be experiments made under the influence of some 
 of the poets named above. However that may be, I am 
 convinced that many of our poets and a large number 
 of their readers have a "feeling" for the ancient forms 
 of English verse ; and I believe that the friends of my 
 Beowulf work and some others will be willing to follow 
 me while I put into verse-forms approximating the 
 Anglo-Saxon types some of the myths, legends, and 
 poetical situations of the Anglo-Saxon era. 
 
 Mr. Henley's poem to Margaret E. Henley and Mr. 
 Watson's England My Mother I would cite in connec 
 tion with the reference made to them in a foregoing 
 
 paragraph. 
 
 J. L. HALL. 
 
 WlLLIAMSBURG, VA., 
 
 Jan. i, 1899.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE CALLING OF HENGIST AND HORSA . . i 
 
 II. THE LANDING OF HENGIST AND HORSA . . 11 
 
 III. THE LADY ROWENA 20 
 
 IV. THE DEATH OF HORSA . . . . . 34 
 V. CERDIC AND ARTHUR ...... 47 
 
 VI. AUGUSTINE 59 
 
 VII. ALFRED ......... 73 
 
 VIII. EDGAR THE PEACEABLE ..... 92
 
 OLD ENGLISH IDYLS. 
 I. 
 
 THE CALLING OF HENGIST AND HORSA. 
 
 Lo ! in legend and lay long we have heard of 
 
 The fame of our fathers, folk-leaders mighty, 
 
 Eminent earlmen. Oft, gleemen-thanes 
 
 All through the ages, excellent song-smiths, 
 
 Have sung of the bold and brave and illustrious 
 
 Fathers of England from far o'er the waters, 
 
 Earls of the eastward, how, oft in their sea-boats, 
 
 They sailed from their happy homes on the mainland 
 
 Far o'er the flood-deeps, famed, mighty ones, 
 
 Westward to Albion, wishing, craving 
 
 More honor and glory than ever had come to 
 
 Earls of that era. / have ne'er heard of 
 
 Men so mighty of muscle and valor, 
 
 Earls so eminent, as the atheling-brothers, 
 
 Hengist and Horsa, heroes of Anglia, 
 
 Lords of the mainland. The lay of the gleeman 
 
 Is full of their fame. Far 'mid the races, 
 
 The minstrel's song, swelling to heavenward, 
 
 Tells of the splendid, spacious, audacious
 
 2 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Deeds of those daring, doughty, invincible 
 
 Fathers of freedom who fared o'er the waters 
 
 Hither to England, and here builded them 
 
 A kingdom so mighty that men cannot shake it, 
 
 And hell cannot take it. These high-hearted, eminent 
 
 Earls of the mainland, eager for glory, 
 
 Were feasting, carousing in their far-away, sea-washed 
 
 Home in the billows : blithe were the sea-kings, 
 
 Beer was abundant. Their beakers lifted they, 
 
 Lustily shouting : the sheen-bright, delicious 
 
 Drink of good heroes they drained merrily 
 
 From cups that were brimming, from bumpers adorned 
 
 By the art of the graver. 'Mid all of the races, 
 
 Kindreds and folks, few had not heard of 
 
 Wihtgils's sons, Woden's great-grandsons, 
 
 Hengist and Horsa, heroes distinguished, 
 
 Land-chiefs beloved. Lavish of treasures, 
 
 They feasted and shouted far over the waters, 
 
 East over the ocean, where Anglians and Jutemen 
 
 And men of the Saxons, mighty, dauntless, 
 
 Royalest of races, were reared 'mid the billows, 
 
 Founders of freedom. There flowed in abundance 
 
 The dear-loved mead, mellow, delicious 
 
 Cheer-drink of heroes : high was the glee, 
 
 The bright cups clattered. Clear to the welkin 
 
 Sang then the singer the sweet, heart-cheering, 
 
 Most winsome of melodies men ever listened to, 
 
 Heroes under heaven. I have heard never 
 
 'Neath arch of the ether of earls gladsomer, 
 
 Of men merrier with music and laughter
 
 The Calling of Hengist and Horsa. 3 
 
 And song of the gleeman. Sang he exultingly, 
 
 In hall and in bower, to hero and maiden, 
 
 Of the daring deeds done by their fathers, 
 
 Of mighty marvels of muscle and valor 
 
 Wrought by their forefathers, far-famous heroes and 
 
 Athelings of old. Earls, hero-thanes 
 
 Harked to the harper. The high-mooded troopers 
 
 Lifted their lances and lustily bellowed, 
 
 Clattered and clanged them, clashing and crashing 
 
 Their shields and their shafts, shouting, yelling, 
 
 So great was their glee ; good were their folk-lords, 
 
 Their liegelords beloved were lavish of jewels ; 
 
 Beer was abundant, and beakers were foaming 
 
 And bumpers were brimming ; the benches did rattle, 
 
 Loud was the laughter. Then the lady Rowena, 
 
 Wavy-haired, winsome, well-loved daughter 
 
 Of Hengist the atheling, entered the mead-hall ; 
 
 With jewels unnumbered, the gem-brilliant maiden 
 
 Glittered and glimmered and glinted resplendently, 
 
 Star-like did sparkle, as stately, decorous 
 
 She came through the building. The brothers were 
 
 seated, 
 
 Hero by hero, high on the dais, 
 Famed folk-leaders. Fondly Hengist, then, 
 Greeted his daughter : down by her father 
 She sat on the settle, sweet, elf-lovely, 
 Curly-locked lady. The lay of the gleeman, then, 
 Sounded sonorous, swelled like a chorus, 
 Rising to skyward ; the scop's clear strains, 
 The harp's sweet harmony, heavenward mounted,
 
 4 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Merry their mood : of men under heaven 
 There is none wise enough to know or to dream 
 What Wyrd the weaver willeth to bring him 
 Of good or of ill : to each happen eth 
 Of weal or of woe what Wyrd appoint eth him : 
 She is supreme. There passed, then, a liegeman 
 Where Hengist and Horsa, high-mooded kinsmen, 
 Bold, battle- fierce, their beakers were tasting, 
 Spake with decorum, came with his message then, 
 Door- warden doughty : " Dear-loved leaders, 
 There are come to our coast, craving to see ye, 
 Eager and anxious earlmen from Albion's 
 Far-away shores, have fared o'er the water-ways, 
 Came o'er the currents, craving to see the 
 Beloved lords of the lands of the Saxons, 
 Whose fame, they say, hath afar and awide been 
 Borne on the breezes that blow to that far-land 
 West o'er the waters. They wish and do beg ye 
 That ye famous folk-leaders will fain grant them 
 A hearing to have now." Hengist replied, then, 
 Offspring of Woden : " Etheldrith dear, 
 Excellent earlman, hast thou asked these wanderers 
 What led them to leave their land and their kindred 
 Far o'er the ocean, and out on the waters 
 . Boldly to battle the blustering currents, 
 Sailing the seas ? " Said then Etheldrith, 
 Door-warden doughty : " I doubt not the sleepless, 
 Watchful and dauntless ward of the sea-coast 
 Questioned them coming, as his custom is ever 
 To stand on the strand striding his charger,
 
 The Calling of Hengist and Horsa. 5 
 
 Curly-man ed courser." Quoth then Hengist, 
 
 Wihtgils's son : " Safely then lead them, 
 
 Excellent Etheldrith, in to the building 
 
 While bumpers are brimming ; bid them to enter the 
 
 Hall of good heroes." High on the dais, then, 
 
 Sat the two brothers ; blithe were the earlmen, 
 
 Doughty and daring : of death, horrible 
 
 Robber and reaver, recked then but little 
 
 The far-famed, unflinching, fearless, invincible 
 
 Earlmen of Anglia. All was yet joyous, 
 
 Happy was Horsa : for him was not done then 
 
 The weaving of woe that Wyrd, the mighty one, 
 
 Winds as she will for world-folk and races, 
 
 Children of men. Mindful of courtesy, 
 
 Etheldrith came in to the wine-hall, 
 
 Bringing the messengers, men of the waters, 
 
 Earls of the ocean. The excellent liegemen 
 
 And kinsmen of Hengist and Horsa were feasting ; 
 
 Singing their songs, sat they carousing, 
 
 Gladsome, gleeful. Gaily shouted they, 
 
 Sorrow they knew not. The sons of the athelings, 
 
 Brave-hearted battle-thanes, were blithely quaffing the 
 
 Luscious and mellow mead that was flowing 
 
 In beaker embossed and bumper ycarven 
 
 By art of the craftsman. All their equipments, 
 
 Armor and arms, did the earlmen of Albion 
 
 Early do off, entered the building, 
 
 The wide-famed wassail-hall ; with welcome were greeted 
 
 By many an Anglian as ale-cups were passing. 
 
 Ludwell discoursed, a lord of the Britons,
 
 6 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Earlman of Albion : " Ye earth-famous brothers, 
 Hengist and Horsa, heroes of Saxony, 
 Fair-haired, far-renowned folk-leaders mighty, 
 Hearken our message. Hither the currents, 
 The billows of ocean brought us uninjured, 
 Bold in our barks, braving the waters, 
 The seething surges, sent, sped upon 
 Errand most urgent, asking the mighty and 
 Far-famous, fearless, fierce-mooded, dauntless 
 Hengist and Horsa to help us to conquer the 
 Direful, devilish demons and monsters 
 That, night and day, never relenting, 
 Dog and pursue us, devils from hell, 
 Fiercest of foemen." Furious-mooded 
 Hengist, then, answered : " Hear when I tell ye 
 That Wyrd all-wise willingly helpeth 
 The undaunted earl if doughty his spirit ! 
 Go ye then back ; bear to your people 
 This message from Hengist, men of the westward, 
 That death is dearer to the dauntless hero 
 Than infamous life is." Ludwell replied, 
 Prince of the Britons : " Bravest of warriors, 
 High-mooded Hengist, hearken, we beg thee. 
 We are kinsmen and vassals of Vortigern mighty, 
 King of the Kentmen. We came at his bidding 
 To pray that your troopers, with ye two as leaders, 
 The brave-hearted, battle-true barons of Saxony, 
 Will lend us their aid, our land and dear ones 
 To defend from the furious, fiery, implacable 
 Fiends of the north. Foemen oppress us,
 
 The Calling of Hengist and Horsa. 7 
 
 Cruelly harry us, killing and slaying us : 
 
 Men of the Picts painted and horrible, 
 
 Those grim, grisly and ghastly destroyers, 
 
 From the north swooping are sacking and burning 
 
 Our hedges and homesteads, heedless of pity, 
 
 Fell, fierce-mooded. And from far o'er the waters 
 
 Men of the Scots, mighty and cruel, 
 
 Grind us to powder ; greedy of plunder, 
 
 They rob and ravage, ruthless and savage 
 
 Demons and devils. Dear hero-knights, 
 
 Wide-famous war-leaders, will ye not hearken 
 
 Our mournful entreaties ? Our true-hearted liegelord, 
 
 The wielder of Kentmen, well will requite ye, 
 
 Vortigern the king will care for and grant you 
 
 Gifts as gracious as good he bestoweth 
 
 Free from his hand." Hengist the chieftain 
 
 Laughed then loudly, land-prince distinguished, 
 
 Said then smilingly : " Meseemeth 't were better 
 
 That your king grapple and gird on his weapons, 
 
 His armor and arms, his excellent falchion, 
 
 And lead out his loyal liegemen and vassals 
 
 To fight for their homes, than hide in his palace 
 
 In shameless deeds, shaking with terror, 
 
 Meek 'mid his maidens : many have told us 
 
 He slinks like a sluggard. But say, good Ludwell, 
 
 What aileth Albion's earlmen and princes 
 
 To weep, wailing like women and children, 
 
 And flee from the foemen ? Your fathers of old 
 
 Were brave as the bear. With bosoms undaunted 
 
 They looked for the legions that long had been winning
 
 8 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Wars o'er the waters, waded to sea- ward 
 
 Meeting the foeman. Much have your people 
 
 Failed of their fame. Folk-leaders worthy, 
 
 Hasten ye homeward hence in your vessel, 
 
 Safe in your sea-boat, say to your liegelord 
 
 That heroes of Anglia heeded your message and 
 
 Will send you assistance. The seas angrily 
 
 Foam in their fury ; far is the journey, 
 
 Dire the danger : if we dare to adventure 
 
 Crossing the currents, our keels imperilling, 
 
 Far from fatherland, facing the billows 
 
 That roar and tumble and toss and rumble, 
 
 Where the wind northeast, icicle-laden 
 
 Fiercely doth whistle, if we face the great tempests 
 
 Bringing you aid, offer ye nothing 
 
 Our kindness requiting ? Will the king of the Kentmen 
 
 Gladly give to us gold in abundance, 
 
 Shepherd of peoples, will shower upon us 
 
 Gems and jewels, your generous-mooded 
 
 Liegelord beloved ? " Ludwell rejoined, 
 
 Earlman of Albion : " Eastward of Kent, 
 
 Off in the ocean is the island of Thanet, 
 
 The loveliest of lands that are lapped by the billows, 
 
 Winsomest of isles of all engirdled 
 
 In the wash of the waves, water-encircled, 
 
 Fairest of places. This fain, gratefully, 
 
 We '11 grant you to hold as home-land and country 
 
 Forever and ever, excellent-mooded 
 
 Lords of the Saxons ; and lavish of treasures 
 
 We '11 fee your dear troopers, if ye fare hitherward
 
 The Calling of Hengist and Horsa. 9 
 
 And help us to hurl these horrible, cruel 
 
 Demons and devils to their dens in the northland 
 
 And west o'er the waters." " Well have ye spoken," 
 
 Hengist exclaimed ; "we will come early now, 
 
 Braves of the Britons, and bring you assistance, 
 
 Soon o'er the sea-deeps. You may say, strangers, 
 
 That Hengist and Horsa, the high-mooded, dauntless 
 
 Kings of the creeks, will climb on their vessels with 
 
 Many a daring, doughty, unflinching 
 
 Sea-dog and viking, and seek for the beautiful, 
 
 Wide-famous, winsome, well-loved, down-trodden 
 
 Island of Albion. Not any of foemen 
 
 Ever hath daunted us. On all the waters 
 
 We have stretched under heaven our standards and 
 
 banners. 
 
 The ocean is ours ; the isles of the sea 
 Bow to our bidding and bring us their treasure 
 Of grain and of gold. Gleeful, fearless, 
 We ride on the rivers, racing and chasing 
 The fleets of the foe. Fare ye then homeward, 
 Back to dear Albion ; bid them to turn their 
 Eyes to the eastward." Off then they hastened 
 Forth on the flood-ways, far to the westward, 
 Hying them home. The harp's sweet music 
 They heard on the air. The earls of the Anglians, 
 Their cups draining, drank as they hearkened : 
 Sweet was the song ; sang then the harper 
 Gladly his gleesongs, gave forth his music 
 Proudly, exultantly. His praise lavished he, 
 Singing the story of the exceeding glory
 
 IO Old English Idyls. 
 
 Of earlmen of old, athelings, mighty ones, 
 
 Sons of the gods, scions of Woden ; 
 
 Urged the brave earlmen ever to mind them 
 
 From whence sprang they ; sped them on their journey, 
 
 Urged them to Albion, isle of the sea-foam, 
 
 Land all lovely with leaves, blossoms, 
 
 Forests and flowers, fairest and winsomest 
 
 Island that ocean ever embraceth, 
 
 Bountiful, beauteous ; bade them possess it.
 
 II. 
 
 THE LANDING OF HENGIST AND HORSA. 
 
 EARLY thereafter, earlmen of Anglia, 
 
 With Hengist and Horsa, heroes distinguished and 
 
 Leaders beloved, leaped in their fast-chasing, 
 
 Stout-builded, sturdy steeds of the water-ways, 
 
 On the seas clomb then, to seek for the far-away, 
 
 Wide-famed, sea-girt, water-encircled 
 
 Island of Albion, most excellent land 
 
 The sun ever smiled on. --In song and in legend 
 
 Of the folk of the east, 't was often recited 
 
 (The heroes had heard it), how hardy, brave-mooded 
 
 Men of the mainland once mounted the ocean, 
 
 The storm-troubled sea, that stretched to the westward, 
 
 And sailed o'er the currents, till they came to a land of 
 
 Fruits and of flowers and foliage so green 
 
 As never was seen, whither Saxon rovers 
 
 Thronged in thousands, thinking to capture 
 
 That land so lovely. -- Light-hearted, glad were 
 
 The henchmen of Hengist ; high their glee was, 
 
 Merry their mood : men do not know what 
 
 Wyrd await eth them. Wassail and song 
 
 Rose to the welkin. There rode, then, at anchor 
 
 Close by the cliff-edge, keels for the journey, 
 
 Three of them lovely : lay they well fastened there
 
 12. Old English Idyls. 
 
 Safe by the sea-shore, with sails fluttering 
 
 Broad on the breezes that blew o'er the ocean, 
 
 The realm of the oar. The excellent vessels were 
 
 Eager and anxious to be off on adventure, 
 
 Longingly looked tow'rd the lands of the west, 
 
 Thirsted for glory. Thanemen of Hengist 
 
 From afar and an ear knew of the journey, 
 
 To the coast came then ; craving for glory, 
 
 Begged he would grant them to go on the far-famed, 
 
 Daring and venturesome voyage, to bear their 
 
 Aid unto Albion : earls of that day were all 
 
 Eager for honor. Off by the shore, then, 
 
 The birds of the billows blithely awaited the 
 
 Heroes' behest ; in harbor all ready were 
 
 The keels at the coast. There clomb to the prow, then, 
 
 High-mood ed, happy henchmen and kinsmen 
 
 Of Hengist and Horsa. Hundreds of earlmen 
 
 To the shore thronged, then, each thinking- that, haply, 
 
 'T was he that would have the high and distinguished 
 
 Honor and glory of going that daring and 
 
 Venturesome voyage. The vessels lay ready, 
 
 Foam-throated floaters. Fair-haired, eagle-eyed 
 
 Heroes of Anglia were happy and glee-hearted, 
 
 Lifting their lances, laughing, shouting, 
 
 Wished for the wind to waft them to Albion's 
 
 Beautiful shores. Bountiful treasures, 
 
 Richest of ring-mails, rings and jewels and 
 
 Collars and corselet with carving embellished 
 
 By armorer's art all quickly were 
 
 Laid on the vessel, loveliest of gifts for the
 
 The Landing of Hengist and Horsa. 13 
 
 King of the Kentmen. The customs they knew 
 Of earls of that era. Not ever was told me 
 Of gifts that were greater : good were the heroes ! - 
 They sailed seaward then ; saw in the distance 
 The fairest of fatherlands, fond-loved country, 
 Home of good heroes. - High on his courser, 
 The guard of the strand stood on his watch and 
 Gazed out to seaward, saw his dear comrades 
 Sail out on the ocean, off on the fathomless 
 Home of the whale : his heart wavered then 
 'Twixt sorrow and joy. He rejoiced in glory and 
 Augured them fame ; but he feared that his clear ones 
 Were leaving beloved land-folk and kindred 
 Forever behind them, on endless adventure, 
 To meet them no more. Yet, mindful of honor, 
 Loudly he shouted : " Lords of the Anglians, 
 Hengist and Horsa ; hail, ye distinguished 
 Earls of the ocean. To all and some of you 
 My greeting I give, gladly saluting you, 
 Wishing you well. Wend on your journey, 
 The gods watch over you. Odin and Frea 
 Keep you and care for you coming and going, 
 Where'er on the ocean ye earlmen may venture. 
 May Njord graciously grant you his aid o'er 
 The throng of the waters. Thor the Hammerer 
 And Baldur the Beautiful bless you and keep you 
 Fighting for fame. Farewell, ye heroes : 
 Hasten ye hitherward home to your fatherland, 
 Laden with lustre." Then, lightly and sprightly, 
 The foamy-necked barks fanned by the breezes,
 
 14 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Likest to birds bosomed the waters, 
 
 Coursing the currents, keels of the dauntless, 
 
 Famous, fearless, far-sailing heroes, 
 
 Encircled with speed. The sea-boats glided, 
 
 Barks of the vikings, bounded the mere-ways, 
 
 The fields of the flood. Fain, glad-mooded, 
 
 Hengist the high-hearted hero and leader, 
 
 Stood by the steersman that sturdily guided the 
 
 Rein-deer of breezes as she ran through the water-streets 
 
 Over to Albion. The Anglian leader, then, 
 
 Eagerly asked as to all of the beauteous, 
 
 Delightsome lands that lay in his vision 
 
 Afar and anear, northward, southward, 
 
 Eastward and westward ; anxiously waited he 
 
 And hoped for his haven, as hied the good vessel, 
 
 The deer of the surf, southward, westward, 
 
 To Albion, the fair and ever-beloved 
 
 Land of great heroes. -- High on his seat, then, 
 
 The steersman espied a storm to the northward ; 
 
 Ocean was angry ; the oarsmen fearless, 
 
 Sons of the sea. Soon were the vessels 
 
 Embraced by the billows, the birds of the ocean 
 
 Clutched by the currents. The cordage creaked, 
 
 The chains rattled, chattered and clattered, 
 
 The good ships groaned, grewsomely moaned. 
 
 Blustering blasts blew from the northward, 
 
 Eager and icy : / have heard never 
 
 That so fierce and frightful and frantic a storm e'er 
 
 So rushed in its rage and raved o'er the sea-deeps 
 
 Icicle-laden. The earlmen were merry,
 
 The Landing of Hengist and Horsa. 15 
 
 And, shaking their shields, shouted so loud that 
 
 The terrible roar of the tempest was more 
 
 Than drowned in the sound. - - The sea-ways were 
 
 troubled, 
 
 Rocking and roaring ; no rest had the vessels ; 
 The tackling crackled, as timbers and beams were 
 Mashing and crashing. The men of the Anglians 
 Wished but weened not the well-loved ships could 
 Bear them to Albion. Then brightened the heavens, 
 The sun from the southward soon in the welkin 
 Lavished his luminous lustre and splendor 
 O'er land-folk and races, lovely, brilliant 
 Candle of heaven. O'er the cup of the waves, then, 
 The swans of the sea swam on the billows, 
 Southward and westward, till soon in the distance the 
 Earls of the Anglians not aught could behold of 
 The land where their loved ones long o'er the waters, 
 Yearning to meet them, waited to greet them ; 
 No more saw then the sweetest of countries 
 That ocean doth ever ardently woo to his 
 Blustering embraces. The battle-brave earls 
 Saw in the distance southward and eastward, 
 Far o'er the sea, Saxon and Angle-land, 
 Cradle of heroes, and the cloud-capped shores 
 Where the free Frisians, famed 'mid the races, 
 Have with locks unshorn lived through the ages, 
 Bending their necks to none under heaven, 
 Kingliest of kins. They came on their journey 
 Where Eider and Elbe and Ems and Weser, 
 Dear-loved waters, wind to the ocean,
 
 1 6 Old English Idyls. 
 
 And beauteous Rhine, river of heroes, 
 
 Flashing and splashing foams to the northward 
 
 Seeking the sea. Then sailing westward, they 
 
 Early anon drew nigh to the beautiful, 
 
 Longed-for, lovely land they had dreamed of 
 
 On their way o'er the waters, winsome, peerless 
 
 Isle of the ocean, ever-beloved 
 
 Land of the leal. Live forever, thou 
 
 Beauteous Albion, bride of the waters, 
 
 Fairest of fatherlands ! Fondly, lovingly, 
 
 Sing we thy praises, precious and world-honored 
 
 Land of our fathers. The foam-covered vessels 
 
 Came to the coast, the keels speedily 
 
 Borne by the breezes, birds of the water-ways 
 
 Flying afar. Folk of the island, then, 
 
 Gladly greeted them, giving them welcome as 
 
 Friends that the Father had found them and brought them 
 
 To fight with the foeman. Few of them wist, then, 
 
 How Wyrd the weaver wove at her spindle 
 
 Of good or of ill for all men and races 
 
 That dwell on the earth, as ever she must do, 
 
 Goddess supreme. Proudly equipped 
 
 The men of the ocean were eager to step then 
 
 Off the dear barks that had brought them to Albion's 
 
 Shores they had longed for. Their lances did shimmer, 
 
 Their bills and burnies brightly did glimmer 
 
 And glisten resplendent ; sparkling, flashing, 
 
 Jewels were bright in the battle-true, sturdy 
 
 Brands of the heroes. The barks of the troopers, 
 
 Well-loved vessels, went shoreward then,
 
 The Landing of Hcngist and Horsa. 17 
 
 Grinding the gravel. Glad were the sea-boats 
 
 To lie by the land they long had been seeking for 
 
 O'er ocean's angry eddies and currents 
 
 That had dashed them and lashed them. Then the 
 
 daring, intrepid 
 
 Earls of the Angles eagerly hastened to 
 Leap to the land, longed to possess the 
 Loveliest of isles that ocean claspeth 
 In his big embraces, most beauteous of places 
 In the wash of the waters. Well they remembered 
 The rings, jewels and richest of burnies, 
 Collars, corselets, with carving embellished, 
 They had laid on the ship as likest to please the 
 King of the Kentmen. With care lifted they 
 The bountiful treasure. So the troopers all ready 
 Stood on the strand : the strangers were eager to 
 March on their mission. Men of the island, 
 Folk of the Kentmen, came then to meet them 
 And gladly did greet them, gratefully hailing the 
 Fond-loved heroes that feared not to bring them 
 Aid o'er the ocean, early did hie then 
 To bind the dear barks that brought them to Albion, 
 Where Wantsum's waters, washing and swashing 
 Shingled the shore. The ships quickly were 
 Bound with their ropes and rocked on the billows ; 
 The beautiful-bosomed birds of the ocean 
 Quietly lay in the long-sought, well-earned 
 Nests they had flown to. Fain, Anglians 
 Would look for the king ; called for the gleeman to 
 Sweep o'er his strings and sing them the glories
 
 1 8 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Of their fathers before them, folk-leaders mighty, 
 
 And lays of the land they had left far behind them when 
 
 Hither they hastened. The harp resounded 
 
 With music and melody. Mightily shouted 
 
 The exultant, triumphant earls of the ocean, 
 
 Sons of the sea ; they sang with the gleeman of 
 
 The doughty and daring deeds wrought by their 
 
 Fathers of old, earth-famed, distinguished 
 
 Founders of freedom and folk-builders mightiest 
 
 Known of the nations. Anon, the joyous 
 
 Shaft and the shield shared in the merriment, 
 
 Clanging and clanking and clashing and crashing, 
 
 Well-loved weapons. War-thanes, liegemen 
 
 Of Hengist and Horsa hied them to Vortigern, 
 
 Lord of the land, liegelord of Albion ; 
 
 The troopers did tramp, treading measuredly, 
 
 Sought for the king : the sweetest of melodies 
 
 Wound to the welkin, winsomest of music 
 
 'Neath the hand of the harper. High on the dais then, 
 
 The lord of the Kentmen saluted the brave-hearted 
 
 Heroes and vikings : " Hail ! ye distinguished 
 
 Men of the mainland, mighty, eminent 
 
 Folk-leaders famed. Foemen implacable 
 
 Are cruelly harrying, killing and slaying us ; 
 
 Men of the Picts painted, horrible, 
 
 Grisly and grim, ghastly destroyers, 
 
 Swoop from the northward sacking and burning our 
 
 Hedges and homesteads, heedless of pity and 
 
 Fierce-mooded, fell ; and, from far o'er the waters, 
 
 Men of the Scots, mighty and scatheful and
 
 The Landing of Hengist and Horsa. 19 
 
 Cruel and venomous, are coming in hordes 
 
 To grind us to powder. Great-hearted heroes, 
 
 If ye came o'er the ocean to aid us in driving 
 
 And beating these demons back to their dens in the 
 
 North and the west, I know it will happen 
 
 That forever and ever earthmen shall honor you 
 
 And gleeman and minstrel remember your deeds in their 
 
 Legend and story." Strided then Hengist 
 
 Up to the dais ; angrily, hurriedly 
 
 Cried to the king : " We came o'er the ocean, 
 
 Asking not honor : the island of Thanet 
 
 Is the loveliest of lands that lie in the billows and 
 
 Are washed by the waters, well-loved island, 
 
 Dearest of places. Promise us this 
 
 To have and to hold as a homestead forever 
 
 For us and our heirs, if we aid you in driving these 
 
 Demons and devils to their dens in the northland and 
 
 West o'er the waters." "Well hast thou spoken, 
 
 Hengist the Saxon ; so shall be it then, 
 
 High-mooded heroes." The hall resounded 
 
 With gladness and glee ; gifts were abundant and 
 
 Beer was not bitter ; bowls overflowing were 
 
 Lifted aloft ; and the lord of the Kentmen 
 
 In the brimming bumper buried the sorrow that 
 
 The wrath of the hero-chief wrought in his soul-deeps.
 
 III. 
 
 THE LADY ROWENA. 
 
 FEW were the months ere foes numberless 
 
 As the seashore's sands savagely harassed 
 
 The king of the Kentmen. The cruel, blood-thirsty 
 
 Men of the Picts minded but little, then, 
 
 Foes from the northland, how the fair-haired, dauntless 
 
 Earlmen of Anglia ever intrepidly 
 
 Hewed them with edges, aiding the Kentmen, 
 
 But hied southwardly, ceased not their ravenous 
 
 Sacking and hacking. Soon was it told to the 
 
 Woe-begone king, the womanish, white-livered 
 
 Liegelord of Albion, that his earlmen and vassals, 
 
 Scorning him bitterly, would bring them a king 
 
 From the southward and westward, a war-mooded leader 
 
 Who dauntless and doughty would drive him away 
 
 From kingdom and country. He called terror-struck 
 
 (His heart was so heavy) for Hengist, far-famous 
 
 Earl of the Angles, urged him to help them 
 
 As erst he had done, eagerly promised 
 
 To give and to grant him gifts abundantly, 
 
 All he might ask of him. East o'er the waters, 
 
 O'er the surging, seething, sea-currents foaming, 
 
 Sent, then, Hengist for Saxons and Angles 
 
 And Jutemen and Frisians, folk of the mainland,
 
 The Lady Rowena. 21 
 
 Most venturous-mooded of vikings and pirates 
 
 That sailed o'er the sea-deeps : soon, messengers 
 
 Reached the brave races. Readily, eagerly, 
 
 Heard the good heroes that Hengist had bidden them 
 
 Come o'er the waters ; and there came then rejoicing 
 
 Earls of the east eager for glory 
 
 And thirsting for fame. Far o'er the waters, 
 
 O'er the waves westward, winds from the northward 
 
 Fanned then their foam-throated, far-dashing vessels 
 
 O'er the curve of the currents : the cliffs and headlands 
 
 Of beautiful Albion beckoned them onward 
 
 Far o'er the flood-deeps. Fond-loving comrades 
 
 Of the good days of old, eager to meet them, 
 
 Hied then to greet them : hearth-companions, 
 
 Kinsmen and brethren, came then joyfully, 
 
 Blithely embraced them, and bade them to tell of 
 
 The land and loved ones left o'er the waters 
 
 Far to the northward ; of friends, kindred 
 
 And own dear fatherland fondly inquired they, 
 
 Asked then eagerly, earlman of earlman, 
 
 One of the other. Early anon, 
 
 They bound to the shore the barks of the athelings 
 
 Eighteen beautiful birds of the water 
 
 Close by the coast, cabled them tightly, 
 
 Fastened them firmly, lest the flood of the tide 
 
 Should sweep out to seaward the swans of the ocean, 
 
 Or the shattering shoals should shiver and crush the 
 
 Barks that had brought their brethren and comrades 
 
 Safe o'er the sea-deeps. Sweetest to Hengist 
 
 Of all that had come o'er the cup of the billows,
 
 22 Old English Idyls. 
 
 O'er the mingling of waters, westward and southward, 
 
 Was the lady Rowena, the lovely, beautiful, 
 
 Gem-brilliant maiden, jewel and darling 
 
 Of Hengist the hero : the harp and the gleeman 
 
 Have sung for ages the elf-bright folk-maiden's 
 
 Beauty and loveliness. Broad her renown is ; 
 
 Forever and ever England shall honor her 
 
 As first of her fair-haired, fond-loved myriads 
 
 Of beautiful maidens, mothers and daughters 
 
 And sisters of heroes : the sweet-toned harp, 
 
 Joy-wood beloved, long shall continue 
 
 To sing her glory in saga and story, 
 
 Lovely, illustrious lady Rowena, 
 
 Leading the line of beloved, winsome 
 
 Women of England, elf-brightest, purest 
 
 Of mothers and maidens that men ever sought for 
 
 Or earls ever fought for ; then ever-beloved 
 
 Hilda the holy, handmaid of Heaven, 
 
 Eminent virgin ; Ethelfleda 
 
 Lady of Mercia, mighty, fearless, 
 
 Queenly, kingly, conquering heroine, 
 
 Sister and daughter and darling of heroes 
 
 And known of all England ; the excellent folk-lady, 
 
 Godiva the gracious, glory-encircled 
 
 And honored forever, who, to aid her dear liegemen, 
 
 With body all bare (but her bountiful hair 
 
 As a robe fell around her) rode through the borough, 
 
 While her leal, true-hearted troopers and thanemen 
 
 Hid in their houses with hearts that were thankful, 
 
 Shunning to shame her ; the sheen-bright twain
 
 The Lady Rowena. 23 
 
 Edith entitled, each famous in 
 
 Legend and lay of lands numberless, 
 
 High-hearted, sweet-mooded, song-famous maidens, 
 
 Honored of England. Not e'er hath been told me 
 
 Of any more goodly and gracious in spirit, 
 
 More eminent folk-queen, than Edith the gold-adorned 
 
 Peace-weaver pure, who passed the wild-dashing 
 
 Ocean-ways angry to Otto the mighty's 
 
 Spacious dominions, splendid and far-famed, 
 
 Where, gleaming with jewels, the gem-brilliant maiden, 
 
 Sweetest of virgins, sister of Athelstan, 
 
 Was Otto the atheling's honored, distinguished, 
 
 Dear-loved wife, till death departed them, 
 
 Till she laid down her life-joys. Then the Lord's dear 
 
 virgin, 
 
 Edith the pure, angel-white, holy 
 Handmaid of Heaven, whose heart in her childhood 
 Turned from the tawdry trifles and honors 
 Of rank and of riches, resting, abiding 
 In God and His glory ; gladly forsaking 
 The wealth and the worship of a well-loved daughter 
 Of an earthly king, to earn the proud title 
 Of a child of God, great, almighty 
 Ruler of heaven. Hengist discoursed, then ; 
 The crafty, cunning, clever war-hero, 
 Earl of the Anglians, opened his word-treasure, 
 Spake to the king then : " Come now, I beg thee, 
 Lord of the Kentmen ; look with thine eyes on the 
 Beauteous buildings and brave liegemen-thanes 
 Of Hengist and Horsa. High heavenward
 
 24 Old English Idyls. 
 
 We have builded a beauteous beer-hall and palace, 
 
 Of halls handsomest heroes e'er revel in, 
 
 Splendid, spacious, sparkling with rarest 
 
 Jewels and gems, joy-hall of heroes ; 
 
 Come thou and see it." Soon, then, Vortigern, 
 
 Folk-lord of Albion, fared with the hero 
 
 O'er the waters of Wantsum to the wassailing-building, 
 
 Mead-hall resplendent : men of that era 
 
 Not ever had seen, nor even had heard of 
 
 Hall-building grander. Glad was Hengist, 
 
 The artful and eager earl of the mainland 
 
 Was merry in mood, then ; he minded to win him 
 
 No little of land from the lecherous, treacherous 
 
 King of the Kentmen. The clever, eagle-eyed 
 
 Earlmen of Thanet, thanemen of Hengist, 
 
 Watched the two folk-lords ; well might they reckon 
 
 That Hengist and Horsa and heroes that gladly 
 
 Served them as liegemen not long would content them 
 
 With land on the island out in the waters, 
 
 But early would ask for acres unnumbered 
 
 And Kent as a kingdom. Came, then, the twain, 
 
 Hengist and Vortigern, the hall-building seeking, 
 
 Joy of the Jutemen. Jewel-bedighted, 
 
 Gold-adorned, gleaming, the glorious building, 
 
 Hall of good heroes, high in the ether rose 
 
 Spacious and splendid, sparkling, glimmering 
 
 Wide o'er the water-ways. Well 't was builded, 
 
 Fastened most firmly. Folk of that era 
 
 Not e'er had beheld, not ever had heard of 
 
 Building so beautiful, beer-hall and palace
 
 The Lady Roweua. 25 
 
 So high under heaven. Hugely 't was fashioned ; 
 
 Sturdy and stout it stood in the borough 
 
 Delightsome to liegemen ; late and early the 
 
 Thanemen of Thanet thither did hie them 
 
 For gifts and for glee. Glad, bright-hearted, 
 
 Feasted the earlmen : ale-vessels clattered, 
 
 Beer was abundant ; blithe were the heroes, 
 
 Sorrow they knew not. Ne'er had Vortigern 
 
 In all of Albion, in east or in west, 
 
 In north or in south, seen or heard tell of 
 
 Mead-hall so mighty. The muscle and skill 
 
 And brawn of great builders had bravely, stoutly 
 
 Fashioned and finished it, fairest, strongest of 
 
 Halls under heaven. Hengist and Vortigern 
 
 Entered then in ; up on the dais 
 
 Side by side, then, sat the two folk-lords, 
 
 Land-rulers friendly. Faithful they yet were 
 
 Each to the other : what after should happen 
 
 Only Wyrd the wise wist in her counsels ; 
 
 She told it to none. Troopers of Hengist, 
 
 Dearest of hearth-friends, hastened to benchward : 
 
 Lief and loyal liegemen and vassals 
 
 Of the far-famed, eminent folk-lord of Thanet 
 
 Bent to the benches ; beakers clanged, then, 
 
 Platters clattered, crackled and rattled, 
 
 The hall resounded ; heroes a-laughing 
 
 Drained, then, their beakers. Boastingly, Hengist, 
 
 Lord of the island, opened his word-hoard, 
 
 Spake after custom : " Kinsmen, liegemen, 
 
 Thanemen of Thanet, thanks offer I
 
 26 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Odin and Thor for all they have granted 
 Me and the heroes that hither followed me 
 O'er the waves westward. Well I remember 
 The days of my youth : no younker on earth was 
 More daring and doughty. Down from the north 
 O'er the seas sailed I southward, westward, 
 Greedy of glory ; greatly I thirsted 
 For fame 'mid the races. My father gave me then 
 Homeralaf, handsome, splendid old 
 Ring-sword radiant, richest of weapons, 
 Hugest and heaviest of hand- works of giants 
 Of ages of yore. I easily brandished it, 
 Fame-deeds performing, fought as a hero in 
 Many a far-land. Men of the southland 
 Often did seek to seize, grapple my 
 Far-famous weapon : I fiercely resisted them, 
 And dealt them their death-blows. I dared as a strip 
 ling on 
 
 Countless adventures. Vortigern, the Kentman, 
 Heard of my fame in his far-away island 
 Off in the ocean : the excellent folk-lord 
 Was glad when he saw me sail to his land 
 To fight with his foemen. I have fought with the dreaded, 
 Hated and horrible hordes that are pouring in 
 Down from the north, the numberless, slumberless, 
 Pitiless Picts, painted demon-like, 
 And the merciless Scots : we merrily scattered them 
 Back to their caverns. I carved, slivered them 
 With Homeralaf : he helped me cheerfully, 
 Brave-hearted battle-sword." The boasting of Hengist
 
 The Lady Rowena. 27 
 
 Pleased the good earlmen ; exultingly laughed they, 
 
 Their shields shaking, shouted sonorously ; 
 
 They loved the good leader who had led them to battle 
 
 O'er land and o'er sea, and said to each other 
 
 That neither south nor north, in the circuit of waters, 
 
 Was there better or braver battle-folk leader 
 
 Than Hengist, earth-famous ocean-king, land-chief, 
 
 Ruler of races. I rarely have heard of 
 
 Gifts goodlier given by liegelord 
 
 To excellent earlmen 'neath arch of the heavens 
 
 Than Hengist the good one gave to his earls in the 
 
 Banqueting-building. The bountiful liegelord, 
 
 Mighty men-ruler, commanded his thanes, then, 
 
 Jewels to fetch there, gems in abundance, 
 
 The red-gold ring, the radiant, glittering 
 
 Collar and bracelet ; and for battle-equipments 
 
 The burnished and beautiful byrnie and helmet 
 
 And chased-handle chain-sword, choicest of weapons. 
 
 Fain and freely, the folk-lord of Thanet 
 
 Lavished his gifts on liegemen and kinsmen 
 
 With abundance of bounty : the brave-hearted earl was 
 
 Beloved of his thanemen: The lord of the Kentmen 
 
 Was meetly remembered, as men of that day were 
 
 Mindful of etiquette. The island-chief bade them, 
 
 Brave battle-leader, bear to king Vortigern 
 
 The gold-twisted torque he had torn from the neck of a 
 
 Prince of the Picts that he pierced in the battle 
 
 And slivered in slices. Soon, the bright-gleaming, 
 
 Radiant, wreathed, rich-carved jewel 
 
 His neck encircled : serpents of gold
 
 28 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Clasped the bright collar. Then the queenly Rowena 
 
 Entered the building : the elf-lovely maiden 
 
 Glittered and glimmered with gold-work resplendent 
 
 And rings the richest, and her robe sparkled with 
 
 Gems and jewels. Joyously, hero-thanes 
 
 Marked the dear maiden, as, mindful of etiquette, 
 
 On to the dais the daughter of Hengist 
 
 Stately proceeded, stood near her father, 
 
 Dearest of daughters. The decorous-mooded, 
 
 Beautiful virgin bore in her hand, then, 
 
 The choicest of chalices, chased, embellished 
 
 With gravings of gold, goodly and precious 
 
 Heirloom of ages, all over engraven with 
 
 Writings of rune, radiant, sheen-bright 
 
 Ale-cup of old. The excellent maiden, 
 
 Most lovely of ladies, her lip-treasure opened, 
 
 Spake with decorum : " Quaff this beaker, 
 
 Leader beloved, liegelord, chieftain 
 
 Of battle-thanes brave. Be thou forever 
 
 Honored of earthmen while ocean surroundeth 
 
 The blustering bluffs." The beaker he took, then, 
 
 Far-famous hero, held to his lips 
 
 And lustily drank of the luscious and mellow, 
 
 Honey-sweet liquor ; handed the bumper, then, 
 
 Back to the maiden, the mead-cup of heroes 
 
 Again to the gold-adorned, gracious, beloved 
 
 Lady Rowena. Went she, anon, 
 
 Where the excellent-mooded earlmen of Hengist, 
 
 Kinsmen-comrades, were quaffing joyously 
 
 Bumpers and beakers, bare the bright cup to
 
 The Lady Rowena. 29 
 
 All the dear earlmen elder and younger, 
 
 Greater and lesser, graciously tendered it 
 
 To one and to all : they each tasted, then, 
 
 Drank of the mead-cup. The dear-loved lady, 
 
 Fair maid of Anglia, early proceeded, 
 
 Stately advanced, where Vortigern ogling her 
 
 Sat on the dais, said to the folk- king, 
 
 "Wes hael, O King! " handed the cup to 
 
 The liegelord of Albion : answered the Kentman, 
 
 "Drinc hael, drinc hael," and heartily drank of 
 
 The luscious, delicious, liquor of heroes 
 
 That frothy and flaky foamed in the silvery, 
 
 Beautiful beaker. The bowl quaffed he, 
 
 And kissed the most comely, queenly of maidens, 
 
 The lovely, illustrious lady Rowena, 
 
 Would fain possess the fair-haired, sweet-mouthed, 
 
 Dear-loved damsel, daughter of Hengist, 
 
 Not long to delay (he little remembered 
 
 The wife he was wedded to), wished not to tarry, 
 
 Longed for the lady, lecherous, treacherous 
 
 Beast-king of Kentmen. Crafty, artful, 
 
 Hengist of Anglia, eagle-eyed folk-leader, 
 
 Laughed in his spirit : he sped well in the 
 
 Snare he had set for the simple, lecherous 
 
 Lord of the Kentmen. He looked at the king, then, 
 
 Beer-fuddled, simpering,, saw how he ogled the 
 
 Sweetest of maidens. Said, then, Hengist 
 
 Wihtgils's son (war-heroes hearkened, 
 
 Liegemen-thanes listened) : " Lord of the Kentmen, 
 
 Good king Vortigern, the kissing of maidens
 
 30 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Is a crime in the lands that lie o'er the waters, 
 
 Off to the east of you. Earls of the mainland 
 
 Might mulct thee heavily, save haply the honor 
 
 Of kissing a king should count as atoning 
 
 For lapse in the law. The lady Rowena 
 
 Shall early be off to her own dear fatherland, 
 
 Far o'er the flood-deeps, where folk-law shieldeth her 
 
 From high and from low." Loud, vehemently, 
 
 The king of the Kentmen cried, then, to Hengist 
 
 (Eager his love was) : " Earl of the Saxons, 
 
 Give me the gracious, goodly, beautiful 
 
 Rowena to wife ; and I well will requite thee, 
 
 Liegelord of Thanet. There are left me a-many 
 
 Other good islands off in the waters 
 
 For excellent earlmen." Answered, then, Hengist, 
 
 Artful, crafty one : " Nay, / will not barter 
 
 My heart's dear jewel for hundreds of islands 
 
 Off in the waters. My word hath been given 
 
 A prince of the Frisians, a folk-lord eminent, 
 
 Who hath wished her to wife as a weaver-of-peace 
 
 'Twixt Frisians and Anglians. My honor is plighted, 
 
 I swore on my sword." So spake Hengist, then, 
 
 Most artful of athelings : eager, vehement 
 
 Vortigern cried then : " Kent is the fairest 
 
 Of lands under heaven. Let the dear maiden, 
 
 Gracious, winsome, gladden and cheer me 
 
 As my beauteous bride, and I blithely will grant thee 
 
 This kingdom and country to keep and govern 
 
 Forever and ever : aid me in holding 
 
 What yet shall remain to me." Yelled, then, Hengist
 
 The Lady Rowena. 31 
 
 (The guest-building groaned) : " Good is the promise, 
 
 Take care that thou keep it. Kent, then, is mine, now, 
 
 To have and to hold. Haste with the maiden 
 
 West over Want sum : my word hath been given, 
 
 Freya hath heard me. I will help thee to conquer 
 
 Thy fell-mooded foemen." Forth, quickly then 
 
 Vortigern led the virgin beloved, 
 
 The peerless, precious princess Rowena, 
 
 Delayed not nor lingered : his love was so eager 
 
 He cared not for kingdoms. The carles of the Anglians 
 
 Reveled in riot, carousing, shouting, 
 
 Bellowed like oxen while bucklers and lances 
 
 Were banging and clanging. A brave battle-thane 
 
 Who sat at the feet of the folk-lord of Thanet 
 
 Held in his hand a horn brimming with 
 
 Earl- cheering ale, urged the dear heroes 
 
 To hearken and hear him : " Health to the mighty 
 
 Odin and Thor and all the good gods that 
 
 Help the brave hero ; and health, wealth to the 
 
 Great-grandson of Odin, eminent, far-famous 
 
 Hengist of Kentland." Cups, bumpers were 
 
 Drained to the drop. They drank lustily, 
 
 Shouting gustily : good was the mead, then, 
 
 Heroes were happy. The harp's sweet music, 
 
 Clear song of the singer, swelled to the welkin, 
 
 Joy-wood of heroes. A henchman-minstrel, 
 
 Gleeman of Hengist, heartily sounded his 
 
 Liegelord's praises, as lightly he struck the 
 
 Sweetest of melodies. The mead-building echoed 
 
 With mirth and with music, the merry, melodious
 
 32 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Lay of the gleeman. Gladly liegemen 
 
 Heard of their folk-lord's far-famous, mighty 
 
 Deeds of renown ; how his name was dreaded 
 
 In all earth-regions, where ocean with billows 
 
 Washes the shingly shores and the edges 
 
 Of lands without number. The lord of the Anglians, 
 
 Hengist the hero, his harp-strings touched, then, 
 
 Glee-wood of heroes ; gay-mooded sang 
 
 In measure and melody. The merry, glad-hearted 
 
 Liegemen of Hengist lifted their voices 
 
 In tumultuous chime, marking the rime 
 
 With clanging and clanking and clatter of lances, 
 
 Brave-hearted than em en. Blithely sang he, 
 
 The giver of rings gustily chanted, 
 
 Offspring of Odin, eminent folk-leader : 
 
 " Hail, ye good heroes, henchmen, kinsmen, 
 
 Liegemen beloved ! The land of the Kentmen 
 
 Is eager to greet you : go and possess it 
 
 Forever and ever. To Odin and Thor 
 
 And all the good gods that guided us hitherward, 
 
 The thanks of us all ever be rendered, 
 
 Gods of the northland ; but glory forever 
 
 To Homeralaf, beloved, faithful 
 
 Heirloom of ages : / will e'er give him 
 
 Thanks and praises, for he proved in the battle 
 
 Most mighty of helpers. Hear when I tell you 
 
 That 't was my dear sword that safely hath brought us 
 
 Through thick and through thin : thank him forever, 
 
 Best of all battle-swords." The banquet was over, 
 
 Feasting was finished : folk-earls of Thanet
 
 The Lady Rowena. 33 
 
 Hastened then homeward, the hall-building left, 
 
 Excellent ale-hall. They early were ready 
 
 To cross o'er the current, where Kent in the westward, 
 
 Of lands liefest, longed for good heroes 
 
 To earn and possess her and ever to bless her.
 
 IV. 
 
 THE DEATH OF HORSA. 
 
 SIX-WINTERS' time had the sweet, wavy-haired, 
 
 Curly-locked queen of Kent-land and Albion 
 
 Delighted her lord, lived with decorum 
 
 As wife of his bosom. War-mooded men, then, 
 
 Hot-hearted Kentmen, harassed the spirit 
 
 Of Rowena the winsome, well-loved, far-famed 
 
 Queen of the Kentmen ; cruelly vexed her, 
 
 Said she had marred the metal and valor 
 
 Of the king of the Kentishmen ; counselling Vortigern, 
 
 Urged that the excellent earls of the mainland, 
 
 Hengist and Horsa and henchmen unnumbered, 
 
 Be driven away to their wild, desolate 
 
 Dens o'er the ocean. Earls of the Kentmen, 
 
 Thanemen of Albion, angrily said 
 
 That the men of the Saxons minded to seize the 
 
 Whole of Albion, to own and to hold it 
 
 Forever and ever. Oft, liegemen-thanes, 
 
 Vassals of Vortigern, with vehemence cried : 
 
 "The Scots and the Picts, scathers and foemen 
 
 Loathsome, horrible, are less to be dreaded 
 
 Than the artful, eager, ever-encroaching 
 
 Sons of the Saxons, the savage, grasping 
 
 Henchmen of Hengist, who hither came over 
 
 34
 
 The Death of Horsa. 35 
 
 As friends and defenders, but foully have proved them 
 
 Treacherous traitors." They taunted the king, 
 
 Said that he loved the lady Rowena's 
 
 Outlandish kin, caring but little 
 
 For folk of his own. Early anon, then, 
 
 They chose as the king of Kent-land and Albion 
 
 The atheling Vortimer, Vortigern's son, 
 
 Wolf of the Kentmen. Wild, fierce-mooded, 
 
 Hot-hearted, cruel, the homes of the Anglians 
 
 He ruthlessly ravaged, rashing and lashing 
 
 The liegemen of Hengist, harried them fiercely, 
 
 Hacking, hewing them, hotly pursuing them, 
 
 Proudest of princes : at the play of the edges, 
 
 The meeting of spears, he spared few of them, 
 
 Doughtiest, mightiest man of that kindred, 
 
 Folk-leader fearless. Four great battles 
 
 He fought with the foreigners ; would fain drive them 
 
 from 
 
 Albion's isle and east o'er the flood-deeps, 
 Back to the lands they had left on the mainland, 
 O'er the home of the whale. Horsa was doomed, then, 
 Though brave in the battle, brother of Hengist ; 
 He had lived the life-days' limit that Wyrd, 
 Spinster of fate, had spun for that hero, 
 Must bow in the battle. Bloody the field was, 
 Of fights fiercest : the flower of warriors 
 Fighting fell foremost. On the field of Aylesford, 
 Was bitterly fought the fiercest of hand-fights 
 The earlmen of Vortimer ever did wage with 
 Athelings of Anglia : then exulted the raven ;
 
 36 Old English Idyls. 
 
 That battle-grim bird was blither on that day 
 
 Than ever before. The eagle was gladder, 
 
 The wolf merrier than for many a summer : 
 
 On the slain seized they, supping, lapping 
 
 The blood of the brave, biting, mouthing 
 
 The flesh of the fallen. The field of Aylesford 
 
 Reeked with the blood of the best of the heroes, 
 
 A river of red ; ruthless, woful 
 
 And sudden the slaughter of sons of athelings, 
 
 Bitter the battle. Braver heroes, 
 
 Worthier war-smiths, ne'er went under helmet 
 
 The foeman to face. Far-famed Hengist 
 
 And Horsa his brother were hot for the battle, 
 
 Woden's great-grandsons were greedy of slaughter, 
 
 Mighty, raging, were racing and chasing 
 
 Earlmen of Albion ; eager for conflict, 
 
 The excellent athelings would unaided, single 
 
 On the field find then a folk-lord of Albion, 
 
 Would gash him and slash him, slit him in slivers, 
 
 And call to the raven to come to the revel 
 
 With the wolf of the forest. Fierce-mooded Horsa, 
 
 Wihtgils's son, soon grappled with 
 
 The brave Catigern, brother of Vortimer, 
 
 Prince of the Kentmen. Proudly Horsa, then, 
 
 Sought for the struggle, said defiantly 
 
 Lifting his linden-shield : " I am liegeman-kinsman 
 
 Of Hengist the hero ; Horsa my name is, 
 
 As well thou wottest. Would I might spare thee 
 
 The swipe of my sword as I swing it in battle : 
 
 For Rowena's dear sake I 'd willingly grant thee
 
 The Death of Horsa. 37 
 
 Thy life-joys longer." Loudly Catigern, 
 
 His shield shaking, shouted to Horsa : 
 
 " I ask thee no odds ; on to the battle, 
 
 Horsa the Saxon. The sons of Vortigern 
 
 Have sworn by their sword-blades to sleep not, slumber 
 
 not, 
 
 Till the tricky, treacherous troopers of Hengist 
 Are out on the ocean and off to their far-away 
 Cliffs and caverns. Come now and let me 
 Hurl thee to hellward." Horsa stepped forward, 
 The angry, earnest earl of the Anglians 
 Brooked no delay : bitter, implacable, 
 Frantic his mood was. Forward he stepped, then, 
 Hot 'neath his helmet. High o'er his visor 
 The boar-image glistened ; the good, trusty 
 Beast of the battle bravely guarded the 
 Head of the hero. His harness did sparkle, 
 His bright-shining battle-sark brilliantly glittered and 
 Shone with its sheen. From its sheath forth, then, 
 Flashed Felalaf, faithful, dauntless 
 Brand of the hero, hankered for battle, 
 Was eager to bite through the bone of the hateful 
 Foeman of Horsa, freely would drink of 
 The blood of the Welshman. Brightly glimmered he, 
 Old, iron-made heirloom and jewel 
 Of Wihtgils's son, sword of the ancients, 
 Handwork of giants. The hot-mooded, fire-breathing 
 Horsa and Catigern clashed in the battle, 
 Lashing and slashing with sword-blades that rattled ; 
 Fierce was their fury. Fire, then, glimmered, 
 
 119851
 
 38 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Sword-sparks bright brilliantly shimmered ; 
 
 Felalaf s eye flashed in his wrath, then, 
 
 Brave-hearted battle-sword. Bitterly fought the two 
 
 High-hearted heroes ; I have heard never of 
 
 Earls angrier, eagerer to grapple 
 
 Each other in battle, uncle and stepson 
 
 Of lady Rowena : woe was her spirit, 
 
 Laughed she but little, when she learned eftsoones 
 
 Of that dreadful, direful, death-dealing struggle 
 
 'Twixt Saxon and Celt ; herseemed that her heart would 
 
 Burst in her bosom. Bold-mooded Catigern 
 
 Was stout striking then, stood in the combat 
 
 More firmly far than his father had ever 
 
 Told him or taught him, turned not away 
 
 To flee from the foeman, foined with his war-blade 
 
 Eagerly, angrily. The excellent Horsa 
 
 Asked for no odds ; his edges mighty were, 
 
 Keen were his cuts. Catigern had perished, 
 
 Liegeman of Vortimer, alone in that struggle, 
 
 Had not Wyrd the wise willed and determined 
 
 That both of the brave ones should bow in the battle, 
 
 Fall on the field : folk-troops and races 
 
 Bend to her bidding. The bold giants, then, 
 
 Together did grapple ; gory the field was, 
 
 Red like a river. Rapidly whirled they 
 
 Blows on each other in onset of battle till 
 
 The brand of each earlman bit through his foeman's 
 
 Armor of iron and in to his bone-house 
 
 Dived down deeply, drank of his life-stream, 
 
 Blood-thirsty battle-blade. Both the good heroes
 
 The Death of Horsa. 39 
 
 Fell to the earth, then ; not either could longer 
 
 Live in his life-joys, must lie prone there 
 
 Shorn of his war-strength, sharing no more 
 
 The hall-glee of heroes, hearing no longer 
 
 The song of the singer as he sang, chanted 
 
 Of earlmen of old : off on their journey 
 
 Went the two warriors. Woful of mood, 
 
 Sad, heart-weary, was Hengist the atheling, 
 
 When he learned that his brother was biting the dust and 
 
 Lifeless was lying low on the battle-field, 
 
 Parted from earth-joys. The prince of the Anglians 
 
 W^as woful of spirit, wide-famous leader : 
 
 He bent o'er his brother's bloody, lifeless 
 
 Soul-house forsaken, said mournfully 
 
 In rhythmical measures, lamenting and praising : 
 
 " Dead is Horsa, my dear-loved brother, 
 
 Eminent atheling. Not e'er under heaven 
 
 W 7 as hero more hardy. The hand is now lifeless 
 
 That erstwhile did aid me in all my adventures 
 
 Afar and anear. There was never faithfuler, 
 
 Loyaler liegeman, liefest of comrades, 
 
 True-hearted counsellor, trusty adviser, 
 
 Shoulder-companion. We played in our boyhood 
 
 As fond-loving brothers in the far-away, sea-girdled 
 
 Land of our fathers. Alas ! no more 
 
 Shall the hero behold it. Let henchmen lovingly 
 
 Lift the brave earl up from his slaughter-bed : 
 
 Let the bier be brought, and bear him from henceward 
 
 Off to his burning ; let brave ones attend him 
 
 Hence to Valhalla. Hither summon ye
 
 40 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Harfeax the gleeman to rehearse the all-glorious 
 Deeds of the dead." 'Twas done as he bade them ; 
 And early thereafter the excellent minstrel, 
 The singer of Hengist, sought his dear liegelord, 
 Saw him then sadly sobbing, groaning, 
 Mourning and moaning, lamentingly bewailing 
 The fall of his famous, fond-loved brother, 
 Hengist for Horsa. His heart bitterly 
 Ached as he looked at the beloved, faithful 
 Hero and leader, as he lay so helpless, 
 Lying so lifeless, loosened from earth-joys, 
 Reft of his war-strength : I wot he had rarely 
 So slept like a sluggard. Sad-hearted, mournful 
 Was the thaneman-harper ; he thought tenderly 
 Of far-away fatherland, how a fair, beautiful 
 Boy in the borough was brave, yet gentle, 
 Meek and yet manly. Mourned he for Horsa, 
 Well-loved warrior. The woe-mooded scop, 
 Harfeax, the heart-weary harper and minstrel, 
 Wakened the chords, calling forth music 
 Sad yet triumphant, would sing the story 
 Of Horsa and his glory. The good old minstrel 
 Touched then his strings with tremulous, quivering 
 Fingers that faltered, fondly lamenting : 
 " Low lies Horsa, beloved, dauntless 
 Offspring of Wihtgils, my excellent, well-loved 
 Liegelord of yore. I yet can remember 
 Those long-gone days in the land of my fathers 
 And home of great heroes. Happy, joyous 
 Were Wihtgils's earlmen ; the ale-building mighty
 
 The Death of Horsa. 41 
 
 Was thronged with thanemen ; thousands of jewels 
 
 Glistened and glittered. Good was the liegelord, 
 
 Niggardly never. It is known of all races 
 
 How bairns of his body were born in his manor, 
 
 Hengist and Horsa, handsome, beloved, 
 
 Beautiful boys. Blessed be Odin 
 
 That / was ever an honored and welcome 
 
 Guest in that gift-hall ! Goodly, noble, 
 
 The beautiful bairns burst into manhood 
 
 Soon on my sight ; I saw them before me, 
 
 A pair of great princes. I am pained, woe-stricken 
 
 That one of them lieth lifeless, unwarlike, 
 
 Down in the dust, dead in his armor, 
 
 Shorn of his hand-strength. A handsome, fair-haired, 
 
 Beautiful boy was the brave young Horsa, 
 
 Stately of stature, straight as an ash-spear, 
 
 Manly of mien, yet meek in his spirit, 
 
 Tender and true. He turned unto warfare 
 
 Early in youth ; his excellent father 
 
 Let his brave earlmen take him off on the seas 
 
 To the northward and southward. None was hardier, 
 
 More dauntless, intrepid. The two great brothers 
 
 Filled with their fame the fjords and the rivers 
 
 And oceans and seas ; and all of the northland 
 
 Rang with their deeds, and the deeps did resound 
 
 With the praise of their prowess. Prone in the dust now 
 
 The dear one is lying : dead is Horsa, 
 
 Our fond-loved friend-lord : Fate hath offsnatched him, 
 
 Wyrd is supreme. I ween, friends will soon 
 
 Build him a barrow broad, uptowering,
 
 42 Old English Idyls. 
 
 High under heaven, as heroes and leaders 
 
 Are wont to enjoy. Well merits he 
 
 That forever and ever honor be paid him 
 
 'Mid all the races that ocean encircleth 
 
 As he kisseth the cliffs : come, hero-thanes, 
 
 Lift the dear liegelord." The lay then was ended, 
 
 Sad yet triumphant song of the gleeman, 
 
 Mood-weary minstrel. Men of the Anglians 
 
 Brought, then, the bier, bare the dear hero, 
 
 Atheling of earlmen, off from the field 
 
 Where low he was lying. They looked on him tenderlj 
 
 (Sad were their spirits) ; he saw not the good ones, 
 
 Gave them no answer to all they were saying 
 
 Of him so kindly. They quickly lifted him, 
 
 And laid him away where the wolf and the raven 
 
 And the dewy-winged eagle not ever might touch him, 
 
 Where birds of the battle and beasts of the carnage 
 
 Might never annoy him, noble, distinguished 
 
 Earlman, atheling. The excellent hero 
 
 Must climb on the pyre to the clutch of the fire, 
 
 Must hence to Valhalla. Henchmen-kinsmen 
 
 Of the battle-famed brothers would burn the good hero, 
 
 Give to the flame the famed, eminent 
 
 Kinsman of Hengist ; high on his pyre 
 
 Would aloft lift then their liegelord-chieftain, 
 
 The man so lamented. Many good earlmen 
 
 Fetched for the fire fagots and twigs 
 
 And logs of the largest, laid them together 
 
 High 'neath the welkin : the wood-heap was early 
 
 Built for the burning. There were brought thitherward,
 
 The Death of Horsa. 43 
 
 On the heap hung then, helmets, byrnies, 
 
 Arms and armor and all such war-gear 
 
 As their lord when alive delighted to gaze on, 
 
 Or bear to the battle. Beautiful gems, 
 
 Of rings richest and rarest of treasures, 
 
 Were flung on the fire : the flame devoured them, 
 
 Ate them greedily, gulping, swallowing them, 
 
 Hungriest of heroes. Henchmen-kinsmen 
 
 Of Wihtgils's bairn brought his good charger, 
 
 The horse of the hero : the high-bred steed 
 
 Was led to the pyre and laid thereon then 
 
 To burn with the brave one. Bright were his trappings, 
 
 Gleaming, golden ; the gear of the war-horse 
 
 Was shining, sheen, would shame not his rider when 
 
 In the halls of Valhalla the hero all-mounted 
 
 Passed to his place in the palace of Odin. 
 
 Two well-loved kinsmen, Wiglaf and Guthmond, 
 
 Mindful of duty, mounted the fire 
 
 To go with the atheling off on his journey 
 
 To Valhalla on high : the horse he would ride on 
 
 (The kinsmen were comrades) when he came in his glory 
 
 To the heaven of heroes. Heart- weary thanes, 
 
 Wailing, disconsolate kinsmen and vassals 
 
 Of Hengist and Horsa, hymning their sorrows, 
 
 In mournful measures lamented their leader, 
 
 In rhythm and rime : " Red is the fire, 
 
 Bitter the bite of the blaze as it burneth, 
 
 And the flame as it fluttereth. Fare thee well, Horsa, 
 
 Leader of liegemen, beloved, lamented 
 
 Earl of the Anglians. Honor attend thee
 
 44 Old English Idyls. 
 
 In Valhalla, the heaven of heroes and warriors 
 
 And all good athelings. Thy earlmen will ever 
 
 Remember thy mighty muscle and valor 
 
 And deeds of great daring. Dear-loved Horsa, 
 
 Ride thou in splendor the spacious, lofty 
 
 Halls of Valhalla. Here, soon will we 
 
 Build thee a barrow, a broad-fashioned, high-towering 
 
 Memory-mound, that men of all eras 
 
 Ever may honor the excellent name 
 
 And far-reaching fame of the faithful, dauntless 
 
 Liegelord and leader, beloved, trusty 
 
 Brother of Hengist." The burning was over, 
 
 The flame flickered, flaring but little, 
 
 All in ashes the atheling Horsa 
 
 And battle-steed brave ; burnt, molten, then, 
 
 Were treasures and gems. The troopers of Hengist 
 
 Delayed not long, liegemen bereaved, 
 
 A-building the barrow ; battle-thanes reared it 
 
 High under heaven on hill-top alofty 
 
 Nigh unto Aylesford. With earth and with rock 
 
 They sadly, proudly piled it heavenward, 
 
 Mournful, exultant, till upward there rose a 
 
 Memorial mound-hill, to mark and to honor 
 
 The passing of Horsa, prince of the vikings, 
 
 Who had laid down his life for liegemen and kinsmen. 
 
 They with flint faced it, that, firm on the summit, 
 
 It stout and strong might stand on the hill-top 
 
 For ever and aye. The excellent heroes 
 
 Wished then but little the waters of heaven, 
 
 Whether rippling in rain or rushing in rivers,
 
 The Death of Horsa. 45 
 
 Should wash away ever the well-loved atheling's 
 Broad-stretching barrow : they built it so firmly, 
 With stones stayed it, to stand there forever 
 As a memory-mark to the man who had gladly 
 Laid down his life that his liegemen-kinsmen 
 Might have and might hold the homesteads and land- 
 rights 
 
 The gods had given them. Goodly, lofty 
 The barrow uprose, ready to hold the 
 Atheling's dear ashes ; up tow'rds the welkin 
 The hill-mound of heroes a-high towered then, 
 That farers from far-lands might fail not to know it 
 As Horsa the hero's high-rising, spacious 
 Memory-mound. A many of jewels 
 Bright and beautiful, bracelets, collars, 
 Brooches and rings, richest of treasures, 
 Were brought to the barrow. The bright-shining helm, 
 Armor of iron and all good weapons, 
 Swords and lances, that liegemen and heroes 
 Love in their life-days were laid in the mound-hill 
 With atheling Horsa's ashes and bones, 
 His troopers twain, and the trusty, faithful 
 Horse of the hero. Valhalla received them 
 Early thereafter : they entered proudly 
 The spacious and splendid expanses that span the 
 Halls of Valhalla. Then the heart-wretched troopers, 
 Mourning shield-bearers, mounted their steeds 
 And rode round the broad-stretching barrow of Horsa 
 Sadly, slowly ; singing his praises 
 Mournfully in measure ; remembering with pleasure
 
 46 Old English Idyls. 
 
 His deeds of daring, his dauntless, fearless, 
 
 Adventuresome valor ; vowing and declaring 
 
 That, through all the ages, forever and ever, 
 
 Their children's children should cherish and honor 
 
 His name and fame, never forgetting 
 
 How Horsa with Hengist hither had led them 
 
 To the isle of Albion, ever-beloved, 
 
 Peerless and precious pearl of the ocean ; 
 
 How, to win for his folk this fairest of islands, 
 
 This sea-encircled, sweetest of places, 
 
 He sought and fought the fiercest and bravest 
 
 Of all men of Albion, and eagerly hastened 
 
 To lay down his life for land- folk and kindred.
 
 V. 
 
 CERDIC AND ARTHUR. 
 
 HENGIST went off to All-Father's keeping, 
 Wihtgils's son, to the Wielder's protection, 
 Earl of the Anglians. From the east came, then, 
 Cerdic the Saxon a seven-year thereafter ; 
 The excellent atheling, offspring of Woden 
 Came into Albion. His own dear land 
 Lay off to the eastward out o'er the sea-ways, 
 Far o'er the flood-deeps. His fair-haired, eagle-eyed 
 Liegeman and son sailed westwardly, 
 O'er the flint-gray floods, with his father and liegelord, 
 O'er the dashing, lashing, dark-flowing currents 
 That roll and roar, rumble, grumble 
 Eastward of Albion. Not e'er hath been told me 
 Of sea-goers twain trustier, doughtier 
 Than Cerdic and Cynric, who sailed o'er the waters 
 Valiant, invincible vikings and sea-dogs 
 Seeking adventure. Swift westwardly, 
 O'er the fallow floods, fared they to Albion, 
 Would look for the land that liegemen-kinsmen 
 Of Hengist and Horsa and high-mooded Aella 
 And Cissa had come to. Cerdic was mighty, 
 Earl of the Saxons. His excellent barks, 
 His five good floats, fanned by the breezes, 
 
 47
 
 48 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Gliding the waters were wafted to Albion, 
 
 Ocean-encircled isle of the sea-waves, 
 
 Delightsomest of lands. Lay then at anchor 
 
 The five good keels close to the sea-shore ; 
 
 The swans of the sea sat on the water 
 
 Close by the cliff-edge. The clever folk-leader 
 
 Was boastful and blithesome, brave-mooded Saxon, 
 
 Said to his earlmen : " Excellent thanes 
 
 True-hearted, trusty table-companions, 
 
 See the good land the loving, generous 
 
 Gods have given you : go, seize on it. 
 
 I and my son have sailed westwardly, 
 
 To gain with our swords such goodly possessions 
 
 As Hengist and Aella did erstwhile win 
 
 On the island of Albion. On to the battle, 
 
 The foe confronteth us." Folk of the island, 
 
 Earlmen of Albion, angry-mooded, then, 
 
 Stood stoutly there, striving to hurl them 
 
 Off in the ocean east to the mainland, 
 
 Back o'er the billows. Bravely Albion's 
 
 Fearless defenders fought with the stranger 
 
 Then and thereafter : early did Cerdic 
 
 See and declare that slowly, bloodily, 
 
 And foot by foot, must the folk of the Saxons 
 
 Tear from the Welsh their well-loved, blithesome, 
 
 Beautiful fatherland. Brave were the men that 
 
 So long could repel the puissant, fearless 
 
 Sons of the Saxons that had sailed o'er the oceans 
 
 To do or to die, doughty, invincible 
 
 Earls of the east. The excellent kinsmen,
 
 Cerdic and Arthur. 49 
 
 Father and son, scions of Woden, 
 
 Burned in their spirit to build in the south the 
 
 Greatest of kingdoms : 't was granted to Cerdic 
 
 To be first of the famous folk-lords of Wessex, 
 
 Land-chiefs beloved ; to lead, herald the 
 
 World-famous roll of the wise, eminent 
 
 Athelings of Wessex, where Egbert and Ethelwulf, 
 
 Alfred and Edward, ever resplendently, 
 
 Spaciously shine, shepherds of peoples, 
 
 Excellent athelings, and Athelstan, Godwin 
 
 And Harold the hero, helms of the Saxons, 
 
 Have their names written in record of glory 
 
 In legend and story, leaving their fame as an 
 
 Honor forever to England, peerless 
 
 Mother of heroes. The men of the east 
 
 Slowly, bloodily builded a kingdom 
 
 Where Aesc and Aella not e'er had been able 
 
 To bear their banners, though both these athelings 
 
 Were in might marvellous, mood-brave, heroic 
 
 Leaders of liegemen. Beloved of the Welsh 
 
 Was the atheling Arthur, excellent, valiant 
 
 Lord of the Silurians, land-prince, warrior 
 
 Famed 'mid the races. He rued bitterly 
 
 That father and son, Saxon invaders, 
 
 To the left and the right were wresting, tearing 
 
 From races no few their fond-loved, blood-bought 
 
 Homesteads and manors, were hacking and sacking 
 
 Folk of the southland, and far westwardly 
 
 Had bitterly banished the best of the heroes 
 
 And earlmen of Albion. Arthur was mighty,
 
 50 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Uther Pendragon's offspring beloved, 
 
 His fame far-reaching. Afar and anear then, 
 
 All men of Albion honored and loved him ; 
 
 Sent over Severn beseeching the mighty 
 
 Silurian leader no longer to tarry 
 
 In crushing the foemen, but quickly to drive them 
 
 Back to their bottomless bogs in the eastward 
 
 O'er the rime-cold sea ; said wailingly : 
 
 " The fierce, pitiless folk of the eastward, 
 
 Mighty, remorseless men of the waters, 
 
 Treacherous, terrible, will take speedily 
 
 Our name and nation, and naught will be left us 
 
 But to dare and to die." The doughty, invincible 
 
 Atheling Arthur, earl of Siluria, 
 
 Offspring of Uther, early was ready ; 
 
 Feared not, failed not, fared on his journey 
 
 Seeking for Cerdic. Severn's waters 
 
 Saw him and laughed, little expecting 
 
 That Arthur the king and the excellent knights 
 
 Of the Table Round, with troopers a-many, 
 
 Would suffer the foemen to seize and possess the 
 
 Lands of Siluria, would let the remorseless, 
 
 Implacable, pitiless pagan and heathen 
 
 Sail over Severn ; not soon did it happen 
 
 While Arthur the atheling his earth-joys tasted 
 
 Here under heaven. That hero was brave, 
 
 Great, all-glorious : God fought for him : 
 
 Nor Cerdic nor Cynric could soon injure that 
 
 Hero of Heaven ; his horrible destiny 
 
 Wyrd the weaver wove in her eerie,
 
 Cerdic and Arthur. 51 
 
 Mysterious meshes, mighty, taciturn 
 
 Goddess of gods : she gives whom she will to 
 
 Speed in the battle. Brave-mooded Arthur, 
 
 Offspring of Uther, was eager for glory, 
 
 Peerless of prowess : proudly, dauntlessly 
 
 Fought he for Albion. Not e'er heard I 
 
 Of better battle-knight, more bold, fearless, 
 
 That sun ever shone on : the sheen of his glory 
 
 With lustre illumined the land where his mother 
 
 Gave birth to the bairn ; and broad, mighty, 
 
 Spacious his fame was ; his splendid achievements 
 
 Were known to all nations. None could e'er dare to 
 
 Cope with that hero, till the conquering, dauntless 
 
 Earl of the Anglians, ever-beloved 
 
 Founder of freedom and father of kings, 
 
 O'er the seas sailing, slowly, bloodily 
 
 Builded the best and broadest of kingdoms 
 
 Heroes e'er heard of. The heart of king Arthur 
 
 Was sad as he saw the Saxon invader 
 
 How, foot by foot, forward, onward, 
 
 He ever proceeded, eastward, westward, 
 
 Far to the north, founding and building 
 
 A kingdom and country to crush and destroy the 
 
 Land that he long had lived for, thought for, 
 
 Fiercely had fought for. Famed was Arthur, 
 
 Wide his renown ; but Wyrd the spinster 
 
 Taketh no heed of hero or craven ; 
 
 Her warp and her woof she weaveth and spinneth 
 
 Unmindful of men. The mighty war-hero, 
 
 Atheling Arthur, set out on his journey,
 
 52 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Laid down his life-joys ; the beloved folk-lord's 
 Feasting was finished. Unflinching, fearless, 
 Doomed unto death, dead on the battle-field 
 Fell the brave folk-prince. Foul was the traitor, 
 Hated of heroes. The hope of his countrymen 
 Sank into darkness ; for dead was Arthur, 
 The last and the best and bravest of Albion's 
 Athelings of eld. Not ever thereafter 
 Could the Welshman withstand the sturdy, mighty 
 Tread of the Saxon as tramping, advancing, 
 Onward he went, eastward, westward, 
 Far to the northward : none withstood him, 
 Now Arthur was lifeless ; he alone was able 
 To stay for a moment that sturdy, mighty, 
 Invincible march. The valiant, doughty 
 Kinsmen of Cerdic, conquering earlmen, 
 Forward then bare bravely, 'unf alt 'ringly, 
 Daringly, dauntlessly, the dragon of Wessex 
 Fuming and flaming ; fearlessly bare it 
 Northward, eastward, on to the westward, 
 O'er Severn and Thames and Trent and H umber 
 And east oceanward, till all the great races 
 Of Albion's isle owned as their liegelords 
 The children of Cerdic, sire of kings and 
 Founder of freedom. Few among athelings 
 Were greater than he, gift-lord eminent, 
 Wielder of Wessex ; the wise-mooded, far-seeing, 
 Brave-hearted folk-prince builded his kingdom 
 As a bulwark of freedom. His brave, high-hearted 
 Table-companions, trusty, faithful
 
 Cerdic and Arthur, 53 
 
 Liegemen and thanes, leaped to his service 
 
 In peace and in war : well did they love him, 
 
 Bowed to his bidding ; blithely followed him 
 
 Where the fight was fiercest ; would fall in the battle 
 
 Gladly, eagerly, excellent heroes, 
 
 Ere they 'd leave their dear lord alone on the battle-field, 
 
 Bearing unaided the onset of foes and 
 
 The brunt of the battle. The brave ones were mindful 
 
 Of the duties of liegemen ; dastardly thought it 
 
 To flee from the field while their fond, loving 
 
 Leader and liegelord lingered thereon 
 
 Dead or alive ; deemed him a nidering 
 
 Who stood not stoutly, sturdily, manfully 
 
 Close to his lord as he led in the battle, 
 
 Facing the foemen. The free-hearted earlmen 
 
 Minded the days when their dear-honored liegelord 
 
 Feasted the throngs of thanemen-kinsmen 
 
 In the handsomest of halls heroes e'er sat in 
 
 'Neath dome of the welkin. Well they remembered 
 
 How their lord lovingly lavished his treasures 
 
 On all earlmen older and younger, 
 
 Greater and lesser : 't were loathsomest treason 
 
 To leave such a lord alone in the battle, 
 
 With a foe facing him. The folk-ruler mighty 
 
 King-like requited them with costliest gems, 
 
 Most bountiful banqueting. The brave-hearted man 
 
 Builded his kingdom, broadly founded it 
 
 Northward, eastward, on to the westward, 
 
 South to the seaward. He said tenderly, 
 
 Cerdic discoursed, king of the Saxons,
 
 54 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Father of England : " Old, hoary is 
 
 Cerdic your king, kinsmen-thanemen, 
 
 Warriors of Wessex. Well have ye served me, 
 
 Ye and your fathers. I yet remember 
 
 How, ere age came on me, I ever was foremost 
 
 In deeds of daring, in doughty achievements, 
 
 In feats of prowess. I fought valiantly 
 
 Alone, unaided, with only my faithful, 
 
 Well-loved sword, and swept away hundreds 
 
 Of earlmen of Albion : now age, ruthless, 
 
 Horrible foe of heroes and warriors, 
 
 Hath marred my might, though my mood is as daring, 
 
 My spirit as stout and sturdy as ever 
 
 In years of my youth. I yearn in my soul, now, 
 
 To cross over Severn and cut into slivers 
 
 The wolf-hearted Welshmen. Well-nigh a forty 
 
 Years in their circuits have seen me a-conquering 
 
 Here under heaven : from hence, early 
 
 I go on my way. Woden will bid me 
 
 To the halls of Valhalla, where heroes will meet me, 
 
 Gladly will seat me 'mid the glory-encircled 
 
 Heroes of heaven. In my heart it pains me 
 
 To feel my war-strength fading and waning 
 
 And ebbing away. Would I might leap now 
 
 Like a king to the battle, not cow-like breathe out my 
 
 Soul in the straw. The son of my bosom, 
 
 Cynric my bairn, bravely will lead you 
 
 When I am no more : he ever hath proved him 
 
 A bold battle-earl. My blade I will give him, 
 
 Sigbrand my sword : he hath served me faithfully
 
 Cerdic and Arthur. 55 
 
 Sixty of winters : well do I love him, 
 
 Bold-hearted battle-brand." The brave earlmen, then, 
 
 Shouted lustily, loudly commending 
 
 The words of good Cerdic. Cynric they loved, too, 
 
 Son of the hero ; themselves had beheld him 
 
 How valiant, adventurous, invincible, king-like 
 
 He ever had borne him, since erst he landed 
 
 To fight, with his father, the fierce, implacable, 
 
 Wolf-hearted Welshmen : well did they love him, 
 
 And oft on the ale-benches earlmen asserted 
 
 That, when good king Cerdic, gracious, beloved 
 
 Ward of the kingdom, went on his journey, 
 
 Laid down his life-joys, his liegefolk would never 
 
 Find them a folk-lord fonder, truer, 
 
 More honored of all men, than atheling Cynric 
 
 Surely would prove him. Shouted they lustily, 
 
 " Wes hael, wes hael ! hero of Wessex, 
 
 Cerdic the conqueror," clanging their lances 
 
 And beating their bucklers, bellowed like oxen, 
 
 Blew in their shields, shouting, yelling 
 
 Glad-hearted,- gleefully. The good one discoursed, then, 
 
 Cerdic the king said to his liegemen 
 
 (Henchmen all hearkened) : " Hear ye, good troopers, 
 
 Of Sigbrand my sword. I said he was trusty, 
 
 And bitter in biting. I brought him to Albion 
 
 Far from the eastward. I fared, long ago, 
 
 East over Elbe and Oder and Weser 
 
 And thence to the northward, never wearying, 
 
 Greedy for glory ; 'mid the Goths found it, 
 
 Old, iron-made, excellent sword-blade,
 
 56 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Weland his work. Well I remember 
 How I heard high-hearted heroes and athelings, 
 My true-hearted troopers, tell how a dragon, 
 His cave guarding, kept there a treasure 
 Age after age ; how earls of the eastward 
 Said that Sigbrand, the sword-blade of Hermann, 
 Was kept in that cave covered with magic, 
 Encircled with sorcery, secretly guarded, 
 Bound with enchantments. I boldly adventured 
 A grim grapple with that grisly, terrible 
 Fire-spewing dragon, to fetch to the westward 
 The well-loved, warlike, wide-famous brand 
 Of Hermann the hero. I hied o'er the rivers 
 And off to the eastward : earls of those lands there 
 Laughed when they learned that a lad from the west 
 ward 
 Would dare the great dragon that had daunted their 
 
 fathers 
 
 Five hundred winters. I fared eastward then, 
 Met with the monster, mightily smote him, 
 To earth felled him ; flamings of battle 
 Horribly hurled he, hotly he snorted, 
 Would seethe me in poison. With the point of my 
 
 blade 
 
 I proudly did prick him. Prone he fell forward, 
 Dead lay the dragon. His den was no more 
 A horror to heroes ; hastened I in, then, 
 To joy in the sight of jewels and treasures 
 And song-famous swords that had slept on the wall 
 there
 
 Cerdic and Arthur. 57 
 
 From earliest eras, edge-keen, famous, 
 
 Magic-encircled swords of the ancients, 
 
 Old-work of giants. With joy, saw I 
 
 World-famous Sigbrand, sword-blade of Hermann, 
 
 Men-leader mighty, matchless battle-knight, 
 
 Hero of Germany. I hastily seized it 
 
 All rusting to ruin ; the rime-carved, ancient 
 
 Sword of the hero was soon hanging then 
 
 Safe at my side : it hath served me faithfully 
 
 Sixty of winters, well-tried, trifsty 
 
 Friend-in-the-battle. When I fare, troopers, 
 
 Hence to Valhalla, high-hearted Cynric, 
 
 My fond-loved son, folk-lord of Wessex, 
 
 Will take up the brand borne by his father 
 
 And carve out a kingdom clean to the northward and 
 
 Wide to the westward ; the Welshman will cower 
 
 And shudder and shake, as the shout of the Saxon 
 
 Frightens afresh forest and river 
 
 And meadow and plain. I shall pass on my journey 
 
 Early anon : old and hoary, 
 
 Death will subdue me. Dear young heroes, 
 
 Do as I bid ye. Bear ye onward 
 
 The banner of Wessex. Wyrd will help you 
 
 If doughty your valor. I dare to allege it, 
 
 That the gods have given this goodly, bountiful 
 
 Land of Albion to the liegemen and children 
 
 Of Cerdic the Saxon ; seize, hold to it 
 
 Forever and ever. Ye early will see me 
 
 Lorn of my life-joys, lying unwarlike, 
 
 Dead in my armor. I urge you, good heroes,
 
 58 Old English Idyls. 
 
 To build me a barrow broad-stretching, lofty. 
 High on the cliff-edge, that comers from far 
 May see it and say that so did Angle-folk 
 Honor the atheling that erstwhile led their 
 Fathers of old in founding: a kingdom."
 
 VI. 
 AUGUSTINE. 
 
 Lo ! we have heard of the holy, beloved, 
 Bishop and Father, far-famous Gregory, 
 Good, great-hearted, God's dear servant, 
 Faithful and far-seeing father and pastor, 
 Shepherd of souls, how he saw in the market 
 Beautiful, blue-eyed bairns of the Angles 
 Selling as slaves. Then sad, groaned he 
 When he learned that the land they lived in was given 
 Wholly to heathendom, that Heaven's good story, 
 The gospel of peace, gracious, joyful- 
 Message of mercy to men of all races, 
 Was known of not any of all the myriads 
 Of fair-haired Anglians in that far-away, sea-girt 
 Isle of the ocean. Eagerly Gregory 
 Yearned tow'rds the youths : " Yea," said the good one, 
 God's dear liegeman, "go I will early 
 To the isle of the Anglians and urge them to hearken 
 The good, peace-bringing gospel of Jesus, 
 Saviour of sinners : the souls of the Angles 
 Shall shine in my crown when I come into glory 
 At the throne of the Lamb, who liveth forever, 
 Lord everlasting." Thus the loving, gentle 
 Bishop and father felt unto all men 
 
 59
 
 60 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Here under heaven, his heart mellowed 
 With love that was heavenly ; he longed for his Master's 
 Kingdom to come 'mid the kindreds and races 
 He had died to redeem ; by clay and by night, 
 Prayed he in faith, with fasting and vigil, 
 That, at Jesus' name, every knee might bow 
 In heaven and earth and under the earth, 
 And every tongue confess that He truly is Lord, 
 To the glory of God. The good one minded, 
 The Lord's dear liegeman, longed for the journey 
 To the far-away land of the lovely, godless 
 Youths of the Anglians ; he yearned greatly 
 To bear the blessed, beautiful story 
 Of Jesus' love to the land of the Angles, 
 Heathenish heroes, where the high and the low, 
 The king and the churl, called upon Odin 
 And Thor and Frea and throngs of beings 
 That peopled the air, nor ever heard tell of 
 The fond-loving Father that formed them and gave them 
 The breath of life, of the loving Jesus 
 Who left his celestial, delightsome, perennial 
 Home in the heavens, and hither did come 
 To bear among men the mocking and taunting, 
 The gibes and the jests, of Jews that despitefully 
 Scorned and scouted and scoffed him, and nailed him 
 Tight to His death, tender, patient 
 Saviour of sinners. Sad were the Romans 
 When they heard that their gentle, holy apostle 
 Would fare to the northward; they feared they might 
 see him
 
 A ugustine. 6 1 
 
 Never again going his errands 
 
 Of mercy and peace to men of that city 
 
 That had long loved him. They little would hear of 
 
 His mission o'er sea, mightily urged him 
 
 To leave unto others the errand to Anglia 
 
 While himself should serve his city and nation, 
 
 Rome and Italy, ever-beloved 
 
 Land of his fathers. Loth was Gregory, 
 
 The Lord's dear liegeman, loving apostle, 
 
 To entrust his mission of mercy and pardon 
 
 To any one else of all the brave fathers 
 
 That would go gladly so goodly a journey 
 
 Off to the Anglians. Early thereafter, 
 
 He sent in his stead the saintly Augustine, 
 
 Heaven's dear hermit, who hied to the northward 
 
 With two-score trusty, true-hearted, God-fearing, 
 
 Faithful confessors : they fared gladly, then, 
 
 Northward, westward, never repining 
 
 Though rivers were dashing, fiercely lashing 
 
 Their shingly shores, though shimmering glaciers 
 
 From Alps that were icy angrily thundered 
 
 And rumbled around them. Rome's dear missioners 
 
 Recked not of rivers though rolling in blood- waves, 
 
 Cared not for mountains though covered with ice-robes, 
 
 Fearing no peril pressed on their holy, 
 
 Blessed, joy-bringing journey to Albion, 
 
 To tell the Anglians the ever-enrapturing, 
 
 Heart-stirring story of the holy, divine 
 
 And gentle Jesus who, rejected and slain 
 
 By the men He had come to, commanded His liegemen
 
 62 Old English Idyls. 
 
 To go forth bearing His gospel to all men, 
 
 Kindreds and nations. Noble Augustine 
 
 .Wished for the wind that would waft him to seaward, 
 
 Northward, westward, o'er the weltering currents, 
 
 The seething surges, safe to the Anglian 
 
 Cliffs oversea. He saw westwardly 
 
 The land that he longed for lying in beauty, 
 
 And waiting to welcome the winsome, blessed 
 
 Message of mercy that the mighty Creator 
 
 Had sent through his mouth to the men of the Angles 
 
 Far to the northward. The foam-throated vessel, 
 
 Lustrous and lovely, lay then at anchor 
 
 Sheen by the shore ; her shimmering canvas 
 
 Was big with the breezes that blew from the heavens, 
 
 Blithely to bear the blessed, faithful 
 
 Sailors of Jesus o'er the sea-deeps westward 
 
 To the isle of the Anglians. The excellent bark, 
 
 Foamy-necked floater, was fain of the journey 
 
 West o'er the waters. The one and forty 
 
 Henchmen of heaven happily clomb then 
 
 The curved-necked craft, cared not to tarry, 
 
 But prayed for the wind to waft them speedily 
 
 O'er the fields of the flood to the far-away, sea-washed 
 
 Land of the Angles, where the low and the high, 
 
 The churl and the king, clad in their darkness, 
 
 Saw not the Father who had formed them, beheld not 
 
 The Son who had saved them. Soon was the bark 
 
 Off on the ocean : eagerly hied she 
 
 To bear the battle-brave bairns and heroes 
 
 Afar to the combat. She fared joyously ;
 
 Augustine. 63 
 
 Gladly, gleefully glided the waters, 
 
 Skimming the sea-deeps. The sweet-mooded vessel 
 
 Sped with the wind westward to carry 
 
 The joy-bringing news how Jesus the Saviour 
 
 Had come in the east, that all of the blood-thirsty, 
 
 Cruel and ruthless, wrangling, jangling 
 
 Men of all lands might in loving Him 
 
 Love one another. Lightly fleeted she, 
 
 Goodspeed was given her. God-Father bade, then, 
 
 His breezes blow and bear to the Anglians 
 
 Such heart-cheering news as ne'er under heaven 
 
 Those heroes had heard since their heathenish eyes did 
 
 First see the sun swim in the ether, 
 
 First looked on the luminous, lustrous, resplendent 
 
 Orb in his beauty, beaming, gleaming 
 
 Torch of the firmament. The truth is established 
 
 That great, all-glorious God almighty 
 
 Ruleth the races and reigneth forever 
 
 High in the heavens, beholdeth the nations 
 
 As a drop in the bucket, as the dust of the balance, 
 
 Lord everlasting. Lightly glided, then, 
 
 The keel o'er the currents, her canvas outspreading 
 
 With bellying breezes. The billows were gentle, 
 
 Ocean not angry, not ever would harm 
 
 The Lord's dear vessel as, leaping to westward, 
 
 She bare on her bosom the blessed, holy, 
 
 Gracious Augustine, God's dear liegeman, 
 
 And his forty good thanes, far-sailing, valiant 
 
 Heroes of heaven. Holy Augustine, 
 
 Musing, pondering, marked in his vision
 
 64 Old English Idyls. 
 
 The cragged cliffs, declivitous nesses, 
 
 That shone and shimmered sheen in the distance, 
 
 Far to the westward : no fuller on earth 
 
 Could add to the whiteness of those high-towering, lofty, 
 
 Heaven-kissing headlands. O'er the holm-currents glided 
 
 The bird of the ocean, bare westwardly 
 
 The forty and one well-equipped, dauntless, 
 
 Eager, excellent earlmen of Heaven, 
 
 Liegemen beloved. They landed eftsoones 
 
 On Thanet's dear isle, where erstwhile the brothers, 
 
 Hengist and Horsa, and heroes a-many, 
 
 Folk-leaders famed, had founded a nation 
 
 Of strength so sturdy as to stand forever 
 
 A bulwark of freedom. The forty-one ^heroes, 
 
 Conquering combatants, came to the shore, 
 
 Their sea-wood dismounted. Men of the island, 
 
 Gaping, gazing, greedily wondered, 
 
 Musing, marvelling what meaning to see in 
 
 Their errand to Anglia : an earl of the water, 
 
 The guard of the sea-coast, greeted the strangers, 
 
 With questions accosting : " Comers-from-farlands, 
 
 Earls of the ocean, open your word-hoard, 
 
 Tell me in earnest what errand hath brought you 
 
 O'er the flood-deeps foaming. Folk-troopers like you 
 
 Ne'er have I seen. No swords rune-covered, 
 
 Well-fashioned war-mail, wire-braided helmets, 
 
 No arms nor armor on you or with you 
 
 Have / yet seen. Say now your errand, 
 
 Ye bald-headed * battle-thanes." The blessed Augustine 
 
 1 He did not understand the tonsure.
 
 Augustine. 65 
 
 Spake with decorum : " Courteous liegeman, 
 
 Earlman of Ethelbert, I urge thee, hasten, 
 
 Speed then, tarry not, tell good Ethelbert, 
 
 King of the Kentmen, I come with a message 
 
 Promising peace and purest, serenest 
 
 Bliss everlasting to obedient souls, 
 
 A kingdom eternal with the true and living 
 
 God in his glory." The gracious, gentle 
 
 Message so kindly, quickly was borne, then, 
 
 To Ethelbert king of Angles and Kentmen, 
 
 Who musing, pondering, marvelled what answer 
 
 Such message demanded. His men then bade he 
 
 To care for the pilgrims, keep them in honor 
 
 Off on the island. Early anon 
 
 He came forth to meet them ; he minded to greet them 
 
 'Neath the roof of the heavens ; his heart misgave him 
 
 Lest the men of the mainland with magic might harm 
 
 him, 
 
 With sorcery charm him ; his soul not yet was 
 Freed from its fetters ; fiends and monsters, 
 Demons of darkness, deadly, loathsome, 
 Held in their hand-grip the high-mooded, noble 
 Ethelbert's spirit. He afterward knew 
 The life-giving Lord, the Light that was given 
 To lighten the heathen. The lord of the Kentmen 
 Sat on the sward, safer he deemed it 
 From charm and enchantment. He charged his good 
 
 thanes, 
 
 Beloved liegemen, to let not, hinder not, 
 But gladly, the rather, to guide the good men where
 
 66 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Soon they might see him. Swiftly, liegemen 
 
 Did as he bade them ; . dearly, thane-like, 
 
 Loved they their lord ; leaped they, flew they, 
 
 Obeying his bidding. The brave ones would learn, 
 
 Were eager to know, on what errand, service, 
 
 Mission, message, the men of the southland 
 
 Had come to the Anglians : excellent heroes 
 
 Asked then and urged the earlmen of Gregory 
 
 To come and declare to their king, liegelord, 
 
 What hither had brought them and why they had sought 
 
 them. 
 
 Forthwith then the heroes of heaven were ready, 
 Burned for the battle ; boldly, fearlessly 
 Leaped into line, longing, thirsting 
 To fight with the fiends that fiercely, cruelly 
 Held in their chains the children of Hengist 
 And all of the Anglians. Armor of iron 
 None they needed then ; nothing of sword-kind 
 Ringing, swinging, swung from their girdles ; 
 Spears they despised. Their spirits a-mighty 
 Leaned on the Lord, who had led them thitherward 
 To fight not with foes fleshly and earthly, 
 But with powers of the air and princes of evil 
 That wince not at weapons. There waved not, fluttered 
 
 Banner embossed, emblazoned with glory 
 Of earlmen of earth ; but the image of Jesu 
 High over head was held for a standard, 
 That the forty and one war-heroes dauntless, 
 Might look on their Lord, the lowly yet mighty
 
 Augustine, 67 
 
 God-man triumphant ; the grave could not keep him, 
 Hell could not hold him. The heroes of Jesus, 
 Most eager of earlmen, onward, forward 
 Bare then their banner not blazoned with glory 
 Of barons of earth, not broidered nor carven 
 With far-renowned folk-lord's famous achievements 
 And deeds of great daring ; but the dear-loved symbol, 
 Emblem of love, was lifted above ; 
 Christ on his cross kindly, patiently, 
 Gently, lovingly looked down upon them, 
 Meekly submitting to mocking, taunting, 
 As thirsting, fainting, he was thrust through and ham 
 mered 
 
 Down to his death. He died as a sinner, 
 The sinless, holy, suffering victim, 
 The just for the unjust, ever-beloved 
 Atheling of heaven. Onward, forward, 
 Measuredly marching, the men of the southland 
 To the king came then ; the conquering heroes 
 Stoutly, staunchly, sturdily hastened 
 To grapple the diremooded demons from hell, 
 Spirits of evil, that ever possess the 
 Lands of the heathen, loathsome and grisly, 
 Horrible devils. Their hymns-for-the-battle, 
 Songs and paeans, were sweet-toned litanies, 
 Penitent prayers for pardon and mercy 
 For themselves and all the Anglian myriads 
 Sunk in their sins. Soon came they, then, 
 Two-score and one trusty, faithful 
 Priests of the Lord-God, praying, chanting
 
 68 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Hymns unto Heaven : happily saw they 
 
 Excellent Ethelbert, earl of the Kentmen, 
 
 Waiting to greet them. The gracious, beloved 
 
 Confessors and fathers, fain-mooded, tarried not, 
 
 Delayed not nor lingered, their lip-treasure opened, 
 
 Said to the king : " We are servants and liegemen 
 
 Of God Almighty, who made out of nothing 
 
 Heaven and earth and all that is in them. 
 
 He willed, and the worlds woke into being, 
 
 Sprang into space, resplendent and mighty 
 
 Lord everlasting. Last of his marvellous 
 
 Mighty creations was man, O king, 
 
 Made in his image. He early dishonored 
 
 That form and fashion, foully did anger 
 
 The God who had given him glory and honor 
 
 O'er all His creation. On through the ages, 
 
 Though man did despise Him, the mercy and pity 
 
 And goodness of God, growing, expanding, 
 
 Waxed so mighty, widening, deepening, 
 
 That He sent His son to save and redeem the 
 
 Children of Adam from endless, hopeless 
 
 Death and destruction. Dear king Ethelbert, 
 
 Hear thou and hearken Heaven's sweet message 
 
 Of pardon and peace. Pray to the Father, 
 
 God all-gracious, to grant thee His favor, 
 
 Give thee His grace, with glory, honor, 
 
 Abundance of bliss to bless thee in heaven 
 
 When death shall subdue thee. The day is approaching, 
 
 When the God-man mighty, though grievously scouted, 
 
 Rejected of men, jeered at and taunted,
 
 Angus fine. 69 
 
 Spurned and despised, spit upon, hated, 
 
 Nailed to His cross, shall come for to judge the 
 
 Quick and the dead, dealing His justice 
 
 Unerring to all men. Ethelbert dear, 
 
 Kings too shall cringe and crawl at His footstool, 
 
 If angry His visage. He only is mighty, 
 
 We are but weaklings." The ward of the kingdom, 
 
 Ethelbert atheling, answer did render : 
 
 " Gracious Augustine, good and kind are 
 
 Your word-offers winsome ; yet wot I but little 
 
 What answer to make to message so wondrously 
 
 New and unheard of. I needs must ponder it 
 
 Well with my wise ones. Wait patiently 
 
 Here on this island. No hindrance from me 
 
 Shall let or delay you." The lord of the Kentmen, 
 
 Offspring of Hengist, early did call them 
 
 West over Wantsum to his well-loved, far-famous 
 
 Borough and city which the bones of Augustine 
 
 Have hallowed for ages, excellent shepherd, 
 
 Peace-bringing, pardoning pilgrim of mercy, 
 
 Hateful to hell-folk. Happy, rejoicing, 
 
 Grateful to God, the good ones proceeded, 
 
 Marching, tramping, measuredly treading, 
 
 Entered the borough where early, unhindered, 
 
 They preached the precious, peace-bringing message 
 
 Of mercy and pardon. Once more 'neath the sky, then, 
 
 Was lifted aloft the Lord's dear image ; 
 
 The meek, unmurmuring, merciful Saviour, 
 
 Deathless Redeemer, down on His liegemen 
 
 Bent looks that were loving. They lifted their voices
 
 70 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Sweetly, softly, singing in measures 
 
 Plaintive and pleading with penitence breathing 
 
 (Heard up in heaven) : " Hear us, we pray Thee, 
 
 Lord everlasting. Let now Thine anger 
 
 Be turned away far from this fond-loved city 
 
 And Thy house all-holy. Hear us in mercy, 
 
 For we all have angered Thee. Alleluia, Amen." 
 
 Onward, forward fared, then, the holy ones, 
 
 Heralds of heaven, hopeful and joyous, 
 
 Brave-mooded, bright-hearted bearing before them 
 
 Christ on His cross calmly, triumphantly, 
 
 Meekly but mightily making His entry 
 
 As king of the Kentmen, come to His throne 
 
 As lord of all Albion. Ethelbert soon 
 
 Eagerly, ardently opened his heart to 
 
 The message of love that the men of the southland 
 
 Gave him from God. Gladly, meekly, 
 
 Sweetly received he the saving, laving, 
 
 Soul-washing waters. The word of the Lord 
 
 Waxed mighty in Kentland. Many then came 
 
 Blithe to the blessed baths of salvation, 
 
 The washing of pardon. The waters of Swale 
 
 Clapped their glad hands when hundreds and thousands 
 
 Of penitent pagans were purged of their sins 
 
 And cleansed in those currents. 'T was comely, fitting 
 
 And seemly, forsooth, the souls of those throngs should 
 
 Be redeemed from death in that clear-loved season, 
 
 The Yule-tide hour, when all of the far-sundered 
 
 Children of God give glory and honor 
 
 And praise and power and princely dominion
 
 Augustine. 71 
 
 To the Babe that was born in Bethlehem Judah, 
 
 Most blessed of bairns : the birth of those souls was 
 
 Hailed up in heaven as highly beseeming 
 
 The day that is honored of earth-folk and races 
 
 For that world-saving, hell-shaking, wonderful, holy 
 
 Birth in the manger. Bold-mooded forward, 
 
 To the south and the north, never retreating, 
 
 Eastward, westward, the armies of Jesus, 
 
 Tramping, marching, trod to the battle 
 
 With the demons and devils that dwelt in that heathenish 
 
 Isle of the ocean. Early did Gregory, 
 
 Sweet-mooded, soul-loving servant of Heaven, 
 
 Humbly but ardently offer his praises 
 
 That the speech which of yore was used in the heathenish, 
 
 Paganish rites was pouring forth now 
 
 Loud hallelujahs and long-resounding 
 
 Hosannas abounding. The blessed, holy, 
 
 Gracious Augustine, God's dear messenger, 
 
 Precious apostle, passed to the care of 
 
 The Father Almighty, fared on his journey, 
 
 Fearless, unflinching, faithful and dauntless, 
 
 Gave up the ghost. God-Father called him 
 
 Hence to the heavens. Hands that were loving, 
 
 Mournful and tender, took up the good one's 
 
 Dwelling of clay, dear-loved bone-house, 
 
 Bare it to burial : the best of him mounted 
 
 Up through the ether to All-Father's blessed 
 
 Home of the soul, where saints of all ages 
 
 Do rest from their labors. Beloved companions 
 
 Gave to the grave Augustine's dear ashes,
 
 72 Old English Idyls. 
 
 His life-house beloved ; laid him to rest, then, 
 Where fond-loving fathers, confessors and martyrs 
 And penitent pilgrims might press to his shrine 
 And utter their prayers and praises to Him who 
 Gave grace to Augustine, and guided him hither 
 On mission of mercy. His memory ever 
 Be honored of England, and ocean and river 
 And flood and field, folk-kindreds, races, 
 And all of the Anglians give unending praise, 
 Majesty, might, dominion and power 
 And glory to God, who gave them salvation.
 
 VII. 
 
 ALFRED. 
 
 Lo ! in song, legend, saga and story, 
 We ever have heard of Alfred, dear-loved 
 Father of England, offspring of Woden, 
 Honored, eminent atheling, folk-prince, 
 Hoard-ward of heroes. Harpers, gleemen, 
 Minstrels of eld, mindful of rhythms, 
 Weavers of words, have well heralded 
 The daring and dauntless deeds of that noble, 
 Well-loved, war-famed, wide-ruling liegelord 
 Of England of old. Ethelwulf passed, 
 Folk-lord of Wessex, forth on his journey, 
 Laid down his life- joys ; not long tarried 
 After Judith, the elf-bright, gem-bedecked lady, 
 Fairest of folk-queens, fared on her way to 
 The Father of Spirits. Four good athelings 
 Were born of his body, broadly-famed princes, 
 The kingdom's dear shepherds. Most kingly of these 
 Was the great earl Alfred ; 'mid all of the races 
 Far was he famed. When few were his winters 
 God- Father marked him for glory, honor, 
 And life everlasting ; for Leo, the holy 
 Servant of Heaven, received him and owned him as 
 Godson beloved ; the good one promised, 
 
 73
 
 74 Old English Idyls. 
 
 That Alfred, the infant, should ever continue 
 The faithful soldier and servant of Jesus 
 While his life-days lasted. Then Leo, eminent 
 Keeper of Kings, crowned him, hallowed him, 
 Blessed him abundantly, bade them to take him 
 Back to his kingdom : no curse could then reach him, 
 Hell could not hurt him, for Heaven had touched him 
 With hands hallowing. A hero in battle was 
 Alfred in youth-days. Eastward, westward, 
 From ocean to ocean, ever intrepidly 
 He followed his brave-hearted brothers and liegelords, 
 In the fight foremost, was fain of the battle, 
 Exulted in carnage, would crush and destroy the 
 Eell-mooded, frantic, fierce-hearted Danemen 
 That warred upon Wessex. Wide-famed, terrible, 
 Well-nigh invincible was a viking and sea-dog 
 Rollo entitled : he rode on his sea-boats 
 Westward and southward, seeking to reach the 
 Fair and far-renowned, foam-beaten, sea-washed 
 Shores of the English. Up in their rivers, then, 
 Flew the Norse Raven ; Rollo was mighty, 
 Broad his renown ; there was none thwarted him 
 'Mid all the brave earth-folk, till England's hero-chiefs, 
 Alfred and Ethelred, excellent warriors, 
 Dared to defy him, drove him to seaward, 
 Off to the eastward ; not eager was Rollo 
 To lie in a grave in this land of the brave, 
 This fond-loved fatherland favored of Heaven, 
 Fairest of folk-lands ; he found it but bootless 
 To grapple with God, who had given great Alfred
 
 Alfred. 75 
 
 The might and the mind to make of those restless 
 
 Races contentious a true and a mighty 
 
 People and nation. The Northman Rollo, 
 
 War-king and viking, was warned in a vision, 
 
 Liegelord beloved, that the land of the Anglians 
 
 Was not to be his, but that Heaven had willed it 
 
 To others forever, and early he hied then 
 
 O'er the seas southward to seek 'mid the Frankmen 
 
 For land and for country. The kingdom of Wessex 
 
 Fell then in time to the trusty young hero, 
 
 Battle-famed Alfred, brother of Ethelred, 
 
 Offspring of Ethelwulf ; honored of all men 
 
 Wisely he wielded Wessex dominions 
 
 A thirty of winters. He thirsted, panted for 
 
 Worship and honor, but ever, the rather, 
 
 Sought for, fought for, unceasingly thought for, 
 
 The weal of the well-loved warmen and heroes 
 
 And earlmen of England : forever and ever 
 
 His name shall be honored. Ethelred passed, then, 
 
 Forth on his way, ward of the kingdom, 
 
 God-light elected : gracious, high-hearted 
 
 Alfred the atheling was early thereafter 
 
 Lord of all England. Not e'er heard I 
 
 Of man-ruler mightier in middle-earth's regions, 
 
 Of prince so puissant, peerless, invincible 
 
 On all the broad earth that ocean washeth 
 
 With weltering waves. Wise was Alfred 
 
 E'en in his youth-days : ever he yearned for 
 
 Goodness and wisdom ; of wealth and of honor 
 
 Recked he but little. Rollo departed
 
 76 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Forth into Frank-land : the fearless, terrific, 
 
 Dire-mooded Danemen dared not grapple with 
 
 Alfred and Ethelred, honored, beloved 
 
 Athelings of England ; but there after came the 
 
 Horrid and horrible hordes of the terrible, 
 
 Libidinous, lecherous, barbarous, treacherous 
 
 Robbers and pirates, plundering, ravaging 
 
 This isle of the ocean, England, the clearest 
 
 And fairest of fatherlands. Fights there were many, 
 
 Most bitter of battles ; bravely did Wessex's 
 
 Princes and people play with the edges, 
 
 Facing the fearless, frantic, implacable 
 
 Dogs of the northland, the never-relenting 
 
 Wolves of the waters. War-famed Alfred, 
 
 Battle-grim earl, was e'er in the forefront 
 
 Facing the foeman ; few were his winters, but 
 
 Mighty his valor. Much hath been told me 
 
 Of Aescesdune, where Danemen in multitudes 
 
 Bowed in the battle, biting the dust when the 
 
 Heroes of Wessex, henchmen and vassals of 
 
 Alfred and Ethelred with onset of battle did 
 
 Fall on the foeman. Far-famous Ethelred, 
 
 Leaving the altar, then, leaped to the battle, 
 
 Rushed to the slaughter-field ; slew with his hand-blows, 
 
 Smote with his sword-stroke, a savage and terrible, 
 
 Cruel and murderous king of the Northmen, 
 
 Felled him to earthward ; and fond-loved Alfred, 
 
 Earlmen and atheling, out into battle went 
 
 Trusting in God, who giveth the victory 
 
 As best to Him seemeth. Bravely Alfred,
 
 Alfred. 77 
 
 Brother of Ethelred, out to the battle went, 
 
 Facing the fierce, fire-eating, devilish 
 
 Sons of the northland ; he swung mightily 
 
 His battle-famed brand ; he bit right fiercely, 
 
 Heirloom of ages ; the excellent sword-blade 
 
 Failed not in battle. Five good earls, then, 
 
 Put to sleep with the sword, sank to the earth, 
 
 Sidroc the elder and Sidroc the younger, 
 
 Osbern and Fraena and fair-haired Harold, 
 
 Eagle-eyed athelings : 't was Alfred's good falchion 
 
 That stretched these stout-hearted, sturdy, relentless 
 
 Earls of the ocean out under heaven, 
 
 In the dust dead there. The deeds of the hero, 
 
 Eminent atheling, brought awe to the hearts of 
 
 The dogs of the northland : there was none braved him, 
 
 All of them feared him. Off then the heathen 
 
 Hurried and scurried ; scampered and sped they, 
 
 Sheep-like fled they. Famed was Alfred, 
 
 Offspring of Ethelwulf : eastward, westward, 
 
 To the north and the south, singers and minstrels 
 
 Published his praises ; proudly, gleemen, then, 
 
 New word-groups wove, wishing but vainly 
 
 To rehearse but the half of the hero-atheling's 
 
 Wonderful deeds, his war-skill, prowess, 
 
 His craft and cunning in quelling the drunken, 
 
 Gluttonous, murderous men of the northland, 
 
 Robbers and reavers. In rhythmical measures, 
 
 In hamlet and hall, the hero was lauded. 
 
 Song- wrights sang, then, that, southward or northward, 
 
 'Twixt arms of the ocean, 'mid all of the races,
 
 78 Old English Idyls. 
 
 No one of earlmen, older or younger, 
 
 Was so brave-hearted, bold -mood eel, battle-distinguished, 
 
 Exalted in honor, as Alfred, youthful 
 
 War-lord of Wessex. The wise young folk-leader, 
 
 Bairn of Ethelwulf, bade then a white-horse, 
 
 As emblem of honor in England forever, 
 
 Be carved on a cliff close to the battle-field, 
 
 On a high hill-side, that heroes thereafter 
 
 Might see it and say 't was a sign and token 
 
 How Alfred atheling at Ashdown drove the 
 
 White horse of Wessex o'er the horrible, murderous, 
 
 Lustful and lecherous, lying and treacherous 
 
 Devils of Daneland, the damned, implacable 
 
 Foemen of Heaven. But the fierce, terrible 
 
 Pirates and plunderers, the proud, defiant 
 
 Fiends of the mainland, minded but little 
 
 To leave the dear land they long had been harassing, 
 
 Hacking and sacking ; they soon came back again ; 
 
 As the sands on the seashore seemed they in numbers, 
 
 Burning and ravaging, robbing and pillaging, 
 
 They wasted the well-loved winsome, beautiful, 
 
 Ocean-encircled isle of the Anglians 
 
 With sword and with fire, swooping down on it 
 
 Hawk-like, bitterly : Heaven permitted it, 
 
 God had forgot us. Grief, agony, 
 
 Saddest of sorrows, seized hard on the 
 
 Earlmen of England ; they all feared then, 
 
 Their beloved land lost was forever, 
 
 Fond-loved fatherland. Few of them hoped 
 
 (Though well they did wish it), wan-mooded heroes,
 
 Alfred. 79 
 
 That their land would be saved from the loathsome, 
 
 venomous 
 
 Foemen and fiends, the fell-moocled, hateful, 
 Drunken and murderous men of the ocean, 
 Hot-mooded hell-hounds. None hoped, trusted 
 Save Alfred the king : he ever relied on 
 The word of the Lord, who leadeth His people 
 With a mighty hand and helpeth His chosen 
 With outstretched arm. He only could save us 
 When hell was an-hungered. Heart-wretched, weary, 
 The beloved Alfred looked for a place where, 
 Fleeing the fury of the fierce, implacable 
 Pirates and robbers, he might ponder his country's 
 Sadness and sorrow, and safely plan for her 
 Welfare and weal. Where the waters of Parret 
 And Thone commingle, a marish-encompassed 
 Island he wist of, off in the waters, 
 Westward in Wessex ; well-loved Alfred, 
 Kindest of kings, called it Athelney, 
 Isle of the athelings : let England love that 
 Meadowy marshland and moorland forever, 
 The island of Athelney, where of old great Alfred, 
 The best of her sons, sighed for his liegemen, 
 Where the holy hermit, homeless and wretched, 
 Lovingly looked to the Lord-God and prayed Him 
 Quickly to come to his country and people 
 With help from on high. While here patiently 
 Possessing his soul, sweetly awaiting 
 What the Lord should allot him, he looked, and behold ! 
 Stood there before him a foot-weary pilgrim
 
 So Old English Idyls. 
 
 Begging for bread. Blithely Alfred, 
 
 Heaven's dear almoner, urged that the little 
 
 Wine that was left him and the one small loaf 
 
 Of bread should be brought him : then both gladly 
 
 He shared with the pilgrim. He passed on his journey, 
 
 Thanking the king. The thanemen, returning, 
 
 Looked on the loaf, and lo ! it was whole, and 
 
 The flask as full as when first he had brought it, 
 
 Though deep he had drunken. The dear one of Heaven 
 
 Mused and marvelled what meaning to see in 
 
 All that had happened, and how the poor stranger, 
 
 Having no keel had come to that island 
 
 Off in the waters. And early anon, then, 
 
 The fishers of Alfred fared them to homeward, 
 
 Blithehearted boasting that their boats were laden 
 
 As ne'er he had known them. Anew did Alfred 
 
 Muse on the marvel, the mighty-famed lord 
 
 Did exceedingly wonder. Wakeful and restless, 
 
 Alfred in trouble tossed on his pillow, 
 
 (His sleep forsook him), when he saw all around him 
 
 A luminous light likest the sun's when he 
 
 Streameth at noonday, and standing before him 
 
 A raven-haired man mitred and vested, 
 
 Who held in his hand the holy, beloved 
 
 Book of the Gospels, with gold and with jewels 
 
 Brightly embellished. He blessed, then, the king, 
 
 The old one the younger ; earnestly spake he 
 
 To the excellent atheling : " Alfred, my son, 
 
 Take heart and rejoice, for, behold ! the poor pilgrim 
 
 Thou feddest to-day before thee is standing,
 
 Alfred. 8 1 
 
 Cuthbert, the soldier and servant of Jesus, 
 
 The Lord everlasting. Be light-hearted, strong, 
 
 And exceeding courageous, ruler of Wessex ; 
 
 For I henceforth am thy friend and buckler, 
 
 Thy watchman and ward, and well I shall help thee, 
 
 Thee and thy sons. Soon thou shalt vanquish 
 
 The foes of thy kingdom : the Father in heaven, 
 
 The God of Glory, hath given this spacious 
 
 Island of Albion to Alfred, his servant, 
 
 To have and to hold, and, when hence thou goest, 
 
 To thy offspring after thee. Excellent man, 
 
 Rule in righteousness : then riches and power 
 
 And honor and glory shall ever attend thee 
 
 And the Father defend thee." The fond-loved king, 
 
 Earl of the Anglians, was eager in spirit, 
 
 Relied on the Lord, would look for the foeman, 
 
 The harrying heathen ; his heart then trusted 
 
 In God and Saint Cuthbert. He came to the mainland 
 
 And blew on his bugle, that his brave-mooded heroes 
 
 Might know he had landed to lead them battleward 
 
 Forth 'gainst the foeman. Few of them lingered, then, 
 
 Brave-hearted battle-thanes ; blithely they hastened 
 
 To look for the lord whom long they had waited for 
 
 Lovingly, trustfully. They leaped into battle, 
 
 God was their helper : the heathen were slaughtered, 
 
 The forces of Daneland fled them and sped them 
 
 From the teeth of the boar who bit them and slit them 
 
 And sliced them in slivers. Southward, northward, 
 
 Eastward and westward, through Angle dominions, 
 
 And far o'er the flood-deeps, 'mid folks, kindreds
 
 82 Old English Idyls. 
 
 And nations unnumbered, 't was known, bruited 
 
 That folk-ruling Father was fighting for England 
 
 And had sent His saint to say that this spacious 
 
 Island of Albion should ever be Alfred's 
 
 And his offspring's after him. The excellent prince, 
 
 Warrior of Wessex, wise over all men, 
 
 Waxed not arrogant ; ever he minded 
 
 That 't was God had given him glory and honor 
 
 And fame 'mid the races, and that Father Almighty 
 
 Exalteth one and humbleth another 
 
 As seemeth Him proper ; and he pondered in spirit 
 
 How the old and clever king of the Danemen, 
 
 Gracious and grateful, good-mooded folk-lord, 
 
 Did warn the well-loved, wide-famed, distinguished, 
 
 Battle-brave Beowulf, bravest of earlmen : 
 
 " Beware of arrogance, world-famous champion ! 
 
 But a little-while lasts thy life-vigor's fulness ; 
 
 'Twill after hap early that illness or sword-edge 
 
 Shall part thee from strength, or the grasp of the fire, 
 
 Or the wave of the current, or the clutch of the edges, 
 
 Or the flight of the war-spear, or age with its horrors, 
 
 Or thy eyes' bright flashing shall fade into darkness ; 
 
 'Twill happen full early, excellent hero, 
 
 That death shall subdue thee." So dear-loved Alfred 
 
 Gave unto God the glory for all his 
 
 Deeds of daring ; dauntless, vauntless, 
 
 Ruled he in righteousness ; he recked not of sorrow, 
 
 His help was in heaven. The hero-in-battle 
 
 Exceeded all other earth-kings and rulers 
 
 In largeness of heart, beloved folk-chieftain,
 
 Alfred. 83 
 
 Father of England ; he far excelled them 
 
 In wisdom and goodness ; worked out a kingdom 
 
 To stand through the ages ; established the throne 
 
 Of England forever. Early he reached his 
 
 Measure of days : death then took him 
 
 Off from his earth-scenes, up to the keeping 
 
 Of the Lord everlasting. In legend and story 
 
 Oft have I heard how Alfred the atheling, 
 
 Refuge of heroes, hied to the camp of 
 
 Guthrum the Dane in guise of a minstrel 
 
 With harp in hand ; ne'er heard I that folk-king 
 
 Did deed so audacious, daring, adventuresome 
 
 'Neath dome of the heavens, as the doughty, invincible 
 
 Atheling of England. To Athelney came he, 
 
 Back to his troopers, told them how indolent, 
 
 Sluggish and dull the Danemen were lolling 
 
 Secure in their camp, and how quickly forsooth 
 
 A handful of heroes could harry and scatter the 
 
 Lazy, lecherous, lying and treacherous 
 
 Devils of Daneland. The undaunted earlmen 
 
 Were eager for battle, urged him to lead them 
 
 Forth 'gainst the foeman : few of them wished to 
 
 Stay from the struggle, but stoutly like heroes, 
 
 Looked for the reaving, robbing, murderous 
 
 Foes of their fatherland ; found them, and gave them 
 
 Arrows for tribute, the ash-wood spear 
 
 And swipe of the sword-blade. The sons of the Angles 
 
 Gave them no gold, but grimmest of edges, 
 
 Bite of the battle-blade. The brand of Alfred 
 
 Failed not in fight, fiercely did bite ;
 
 84 Old English Idyls. 
 
 The hungriest of hand-swords hankered for flesh, then, 
 
 Foremost in battle : the blood of the foemen 
 
 Ran then in rivers. The raven was glad, 
 
 Bird of the battle, was busily eating 
 
 The flesh of the fallen. The feathery eagle, 
 
 Death-swooper dusky, down from his eyrie 
 
 Flew to the feast, too. That fallow-skinned beast, too, 
 
 The wolf of the weald, waxing exultant, 
 
 Came to the carnage ; he crunched and he munched the 
 
 Bones on the battle-field. Blithe were they all, then, 
 
 Fierce-mooded feasters, filled to the full 
 
 Their craws and their maws, most cruel, gluttonous 
 
 Of birds and of beast-kind. The braves of the northland 
 
 Were beaten in battle, bold, audacious 
 
 Men of the waters ; wished they but little 
 
 To leave the dear land they long had been harrying, 
 
 Sacking and hacking ; but Heaven was against them, 
 
 Fought for the far-famed, fond-loved, God-fearing 
 
 Atheling Alfred, England's distinguished 
 
 Friend-lord and father. The folk-prince Guthrum 
 
 (So urgent was Alfred) early did come to the 
 
 Baths of salvation, the blessed, holy 
 
 Waters of cleansing for kings and for athelings, 
 
 For serfs and for slaves. The servant of Heaven, 
 
 Alfred the holy, was eager to greet him 
 
 As brother in Christ, became the brave viking's 
 
 Godfather faithful. Guthrum blithely, then, 
 
 The sign of the cross received on his brow, 
 
 In sign that thereafter he e'er should continue 
 
 True soldier and servant of his Saviour and liegelord
 
 Alfred. 85 
 
 Till his life-days ended ; and, along of his christening, 
 
 \Yas given the name of Guthrum-Athelstan, 
 
 In token that thereafter the erst-cruel heathen 
 
 Was a noble stone in the strong, immovable 
 
 House of the Lord. Then, lavish and bountiful, 
 
 Alfred, the king honored and feasted 
 
 Guthrum his godson, gave him abundantly 
 
 Jewels and gems ; generous-mooded, 
 
 Failed not to give gift-tokens many 
 
 To Guthrum's good troopers, true-hearted liegemen, 
 
 Trusty retainers. 'T is told us in story 
 
 That Alfred, the liegelord, was lavish of jewels, 
 
 (A good king he !) withheld no gifts from 
 
 Kinsmen and thanes ; so a king should be ever, 
 
 Dispensing his spacious, splendid, abundant 
 
 Bounty to earlmen, and ever rejoicing the 
 
 Hearts of good heroes that Heaven hath given him 
 
 To love as his liegemen. The land-ruler mighty, 
 
 England's dear king, was kindest of princes, 
 
 Gentle in spirit, generous-mooded, 
 
 Lavish of jewels ; gems in abundance 
 
 He gave his dear earlmen ; forgot not but minded 
 
 The wretched around him, recked not of earthly 
 
 Praise and requital, cared he but little 
 
 To be seen of men, seeking the rather 
 
 The smile of the Father. Freely, gladly, 
 
 He offered his alms for altars and minsters 
 
 And shrines of the saints, sure of requital 
 
 Not here but in heaven. To the Holy City 
 
 He sent of his treasure, trusty, beloved
 
 86 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Child of the Church ; she had chosen him early, 
 
 Sealed him and signed him to save his dear land from 
 
 Heathen and hell-men ; she had helped him right stoutly, 
 
 Dear Bride of the Lord. The blessed Marinus, 
 
 Vicar of Heaven, heard of the goodness 
 
 Of England's dear Alfred, and early did send him, 
 
 Precious apostle, a piece of the Rood 
 
 The dear Lord had died on ; the darling of Heaven, 
 
 Alfred the holy, handled it reverently, 
 
 Tenderly took it, touched it gently 
 
 With lips that were loving, looking upon it 
 
 With eyes that were eager ; often caressing it, 
 
 To his bosom pressing it, blessing and praising 
 
 The King of all kings, kindest of liegelords, 
 
 Who had left his celestial, delightsome, perennial 
 
 Home in the heavens, and hastened to earthward 
 
 To seek Him a cross to suffer and die on, 
 
 That the king and the clown might come and receive 
 
 their 
 
 Father's forgiveness, freely might have it 
 All for the asking. Alfred rejoiced, 
 Was thankful of heart to the holy Marinus, 
 Beloved, blessed bishop, apostle 
 And Vicar of Christ ; called he around him 
 His excellent earlmen all that were near him, 
 High-mooded henchmen ; his holy, pious 
 Dear-loved mother ; the modest, faithful 
 Wife of his bosom, well-loved folk-queen, 
 Saintly Elswitha ; with the sweet, obedient 
 Bairns of his body ; the beautiful boy,
 
 Alfred. 87 
 
 Edward the atheling, who after him wielded 
 
 The island of Albion ; Ethelswitha, 
 
 Ethelfleda and other dear maidens 
 
 Whom God had given them, and graciously showed them 
 
 The piece of the Rood that Marinus had sent him, 
 
 Priest and apostle, praising the goodness 
 
 Of God's dear servant. Said then Alfred, 
 
 Henchman of heaven, holy, beloved 
 
 Earl of the English : " Let all who behold me 
 
 Thank the dear God for the gift He hath_sent me, 
 
 Richest of relics. The rood of the Saviour 
 
 Long-while was lost ; little did earthmen 
 
 Know where to find it. Folk of the races 
 
 Sought it but vainly, till the saintly, beloved 
 
 Holy Helena, Heaven's dear daughter, 
 
 With faith all fervent fared on her journey 
 
 Through all the broad earth eastward, westward, 
 
 Sought for the wood her Saviour had hallowed 
 
 When He died to redeem her. The dauntless, courageous 
 
 one, 
 
 Dear-mooded woman, went on her pilgrimage, 
 Mother of Constantine, minding no perils and 
 Fearing no foeman, fared 'mid the world-races, 
 Urging the earlmen, all who would hearken her, 
 To help her to find the fond-loved, precious 
 And long-lost rood her Lord had been nailed to, 
 When He came to His own and His own rejected Him 
 And cut Him a cross, and crowned Him in mockery 
 With thistles and thorns. Thought she and trusted 
 That Heaven would graciously guide her in seeking
 
 88 Old English Idyls. 
 
 The beloved wood her Lord had been bound to, 
 
 And the nails that had bitten the blessed, loving One's 
 
 Hands and His feet, harried Him cruelly, 
 
 Unpityingly pierced Him. Prayed she unceasing!}', 
 
 Handmaid of Heaven, her heart ne'er failing her, 
 
 That the Glory of Kings would grant her to find the 
 
 Cross and the nails, would nowise refuse her 
 
 A boon so blessed. Brave in her spirit, 
 
 Sinless, undaunted, she dreaded no peril but 
 
 Fared on her pilgrimage far to the eastward 
 
 'Neath suns that were seething, o'er seas that tumbled 
 
 And oceans that grumbled, o'er endless expanses of 
 
 Meadow and moorland, and mountains that icily 
 
 Glinted and glistened, o'er the gurgling currents 
 
 Of rivers that rapidly ran in their gravelly, 
 
 Pebbly channels, chafingly, ragingly 
 
 Seeking the sea. Sought she not vainly, 
 
 Most pious of pilgrims, precious, faithful 
 
 Daughter of Heaven ; the Holy One gave her 
 
 To find in the earth His own clear glory-tree, 
 
 Victory-wood. The Wielder of heaven 
 
 Had kept from decay the cross He had died on, 
 
 Saviour of sinners, safely had kept it 
 
 To gladden the eyes of earthmen unnumbered 
 
 In all of the earth-regions. 7 may now praise Him 
 
 For the sight that I see, sooth-fast Creator, 
 
 Lord everlasting. As I look with mine eyes 
 
 On this well-loved treasure the World-Father sent me, 
 
 This piece of the Rood, the poet's clear vision 
 
 Meseemeth my own, and I see in my dream-thought
 
 Alfred. 89 
 
 The Cross of the Crucified coming before me, 
 
 Tree of the Saviour, token of pardon, 
 
 Saying with sorrow : ' I saw the dear hero, 
 
 Man-ruler mighty, mount to my bosom, 
 
 Beg my embraces. I bitterly rued it 
 
 That fiercest of folkmen, fell-mooded, made me 
 
 Hurt the brave hero. No harm did I mean him, 
 
 But hankered to save him ; yet horrible foemen, 
 
 Cruel and hateful, held me, drove me 
 
 In the earth deep there, till the excellent hero 
 
 Could climb to my bosom. Then basely the foemen 
 
 Hammered him down with dreadful, venomous 
 
 Teeth of iron, tightly did nail him 
 
 Close to my bosom. The bites of the teeth, then, 
 
 Pained the dear earl : in anguish of spirit 
 
 Sorrow of mood, mightily cried he, 
 
 And gave up the ghost. I grieved in my heart, then, 
 
 Lamented and bemoaned it, that my sad bosom 
 
 Was stained with the blood-sweat of the best and the 
 
 dearest 
 
 Of all the brave athelings I ever had heard of 
 'Mong the children of men. I mused in my soul-deeps, 
 Marvelled why cruel ones came to the forest 
 Where long I had lived a light-hearted aspen, 
 Hacked me with axes, then hewed from my body 
 That accursed cross that the kindest and gentlest 
 Of heroes did hang on. Horror doth seize me, 
 Trembling and terror : 'mid the trees of the forest 
 I shall quake and quiver and cower forever.' ' 
 So Alfred the good was grateful in spirit,
 
 90 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Thankful to Heaven and the holy Marinus 
 
 For that priceless keepsake, cut from the tree that 
 
 His dear Lord had died on. Daily, hourly 
 
 He pressed to his bosom the precious, sacred 
 
 Holiest of relics, reckoned it dearer 
 
 Than gems and jewels. Generous-hearted, 
 
 Fond-loved, faithful father and ruler 
 
 Was Alfred the atheling, Ethelwulfs son, 
 
 Grandson of Egbert. All of the races 
 
 Honored the name of England's distinguished, 
 
 Far-famous folk-lord ; afar and anear 
 
 Earlmen honored him, not any begrudged him 
 
 The title of father and friend to his people, 
 
 Beloved land-prince. Long did Alfred 
 
 Bear in his body the burden of pain, 
 
 Sadly did surfer. Himseemed the torture 
 
 Was given of God, the good and loving 
 
 King of all kings, to keep His dear servant 
 
 Lowly and humble, lest earthly lustre 
 
 Too much should exalt him, and his mood should haughtily 
 
 Forget the dear God who had given him glory 
 
 And honor 'mid earthmen. So Alfred patiently 
 
 Bare his great burden blithely, resignedly 
 
 Many a winter, till wise-mooded God-Father, 
 
 Ruler of heaven, was ready to call him 
 
 To lay down the life that long had burdened him 
 
 Here among men and mount on his soul's-wings 
 
 To that land celestial where the Lord-God wipeth 
 
 Tears from all eyes, and where anguish and sorrow 
 
 And pain and crying cometh no more
 
 Alfred. 91 
 
 Forever and ever. Alfred departed, 
 
 Seeking the Father, fared on his journey 
 
 To the care of his Lord. Kind-loving thanemen 
 
 And earlmen of Wessex bewailed and lamented 
 
 The death of the dear one. Dead was Alfred, 
 
 Earlman of England ; not any could measure 
 
 The sorrow and woe that welled in the bosoms 
 
 Of all men of England when, early thereafter, 
 
 They heard that the hero hence had departed, 
 
 Laid down his life- joys and left the dear people 
 
 Whom long he had led 'gainst loathsome and horrible, 
 
 Fell-mooded foemen. The folk of the Anglians 
 
 Cried unto God grief-stricken, anguished, 
 
 Bewailing their woe. Well-loved thanemen, 
 
 Liegemen and kinsmen, laid his dear soul-prison, 
 
 His life-house beloved (lorn were their spirits) 
 
 At Wintanceaster, the wide-famed, beautiful 
 
 Abbey of Alfred, where erstwhile in life-days 
 
 He often had offered alms and oblations 
 
 And prayers and praises to the Prince of the heavens, 
 
 God all-glorious. They gave his dear ashes 
 
 To his beloved abbey, to lie in her bosom 
 
 Till the trumpet shall sound ; his soul then mounted 
 
 Upward, onward, through the arch of the heavens, 
 
 To the abodes of the blest, where abundance of rest 
 
 Remaineth for the weary, and where way-worn pilgrims 
 
 And heavy-laden ones can lay down their burdens 
 
 On one who would share them or willingly bear them.
 
 VIII. 
 EDGAR THE PEACEABLE. 
 
 Lo ! all of England's athelings and liegemen 
 Did well wot of, warmen distinguished, 
 Eminent heroes, often had heard of 
 The glory of Edgar, Athelstan's nephew, 
 Bairn of Edmund, the brave-hearted, war-mooded 
 Heroes of Wessex. With hand-strokes a-mighty, 
 Fell falchion-blows, these fierce-hearted, valiant, 
 Bold-mooded brothers beat back the Danemen 
 At Brunan borough, battered the Irishmen, 
 Scattered the Scotmen ; they scampered like foxes 
 Northward, westward, waited but little then 
 To hold the battle-field, hurried, scurried, 
 Running like reindeer. Rightly, Edgar, 
 Kinsman of these two, came by the valor 
 And might marking him 'mid men of that wonderful 
 Era of heroes : ever 't was told him 
 In hall and bower, by hero and lady, 
 By mother and maid, by minstrel and scop 
 As they fingered the glee-wood, fame-deeds reciting, 
 How his father and uncles and other distinguished 
 And eminent athelings often had crushed the 
 Demons and devils that dared to molest their 
 Fond-loved folk-land, fairest, dearest, 
 
 92
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 93 
 
 Elf-lovely Albion. Edmund was gone, 
 
 Hero of heroes, from hence, off then, 
 
 Eminent atheling, upward, heavenward, 
 
 Dread of the Danemen. Dead was Edmund ; 
 
 Liofa, the hated, loathsome and treacherous, 
 
 Sent his pure soul to seek All-Father's 
 
 Light in the heavens. The lord of the Angles 
 
 \Vas bit by the dagger ; death then bore him 
 
 Off from his earth-joys. Honored and trusty, 
 
 Land-folk and liegemen lovingly raised 
 
 His soul-house slitten with slashing and gashing, 
 
 Bore it for burial to the beautiful, winsome 
 
 Minster and abbey that the Arimathean 
 
 Builded in Albion, to honor the name 
 
 Of his dear-loved Redeemer. Dunstan, the holy, 
 
 God's dear servant, grieved, bereaved, 
 
 Laid there his liegelord's life-house beloved 
 
 Away in the grave, gave his dear ashes 
 
 To the dust they had come from, while dirges and anthems 
 
 Sped his sweet spirit to the spacious, ineffable 
 
 Raptures of heaven. There ruled afterward 
 
 Edred and Edwy and Edgar the Peaceable 
 
 As athelings of Anglia, all high-hearted 
 
 Offspring of Alfred, Edgar farthest-famed, 
 
 Known to all nations. There was none marvelled then, 
 
 That Edgar was honored of all the great races 
 
 And kindreds of earth, and was called the delight 
 
 And honor of England ; for an angel's voice 
 
 Was heard from the heavens, harp-like saying, 
 
 At the birth of the bairn : " Blessed be England,
 
 94 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Peace to her people, while the precious infant 
 
 Shall sit on her throne, and the saintly Dunstan 
 
 Liveth his life-days ! " Not long Edgar, then, 
 
 Loitered and lolled, letting the Northmen 
 
 Ravage his England ; but eagerly bade he 
 
 His brave-hearted heroes to build him a mighty and 
 
 Fast-sailing fleet to float him to westward, 
 
 To look for the lying, lecherous, murderous, 
 
 Pestiferous pirates. He passed o'er the waters, 
 
 O'er the flint-gray floods, far to the westward 
 
 Lashing, slashing the lewd and horrible 
 
 Danemen of Erin, and eastward in triumph, then, 
 
 Rode on his sea-steeds ; the race of the Welshmen, 
 
 Fell-mooded foemen, he fiercely, bitterly, 
 
 Savagely slaughtered ; sword- weary left them, 
 
 Moaning for mercy ; no more harried they 
 
 Edgar's dear Albion, his own beloved 
 
 Kingdom and fatherland. The faint-hearted Welshmen 
 
 Gladly did pledge them to give him for tribute 
 
 Hundreds of wolves'-heads ; well did they keep this 
 
 Bravest of pledges : their promise they yearly 
 
 Performed to the full. So the fell-mooded, cruel 
 
 Heath-tramper grisly, gray-coated howler, 
 
 Venomous battle-beast, vanished from Albion, 
 
 No more murdereth men of this island, 
 
 Nor feeds on the fallen : our fathers have told us 
 
 How he scented the slaughter-field, snuffing the gory 
 
 Breezes that blew from the battle-plain reddened 
 
 With the blood of the brave, and buried his teeth in 
 
 The flesh of the fey. Famed is Edgar,
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 95 
 
 Who quelled, killed out the cruel, carnivorous 
 
 Wolf of the weald, the weird, horrible 
 
 Beast of the battle-field. Brave and heroic, 
 
 Edgar did early humble and conquer 
 
 The foes of his folk-land ; fled then the hated 
 
 Robbers and reavers who had wracked, tortured 
 
 England for ages. Earned the great hero 
 
 The title of Peaceable : plenty, joyance, 
 
 Glory and honor made England, our mother, 
 
 Famous afar as the fairest, happiest, 
 
 Most lovesome land the Lord ever granted to 
 
 Men under heaven. While hot in his spirit 
 
 Tow'rd the foe of his folk-land, far- famous Edgar, 
 
 Joy of the Angles, was gentle of mood 
 
 With his loyal liegemen, his beloved, faithful 
 
 Trusty retainers, and true to the pious 
 
 Servants of heaven, the holy, godly 
 
 Monks and abbots, and all the well-learned 
 
 Sons of the church who sought, begged his 
 
 Counsel and aid : he honored, exalted 
 
 The priests of the Lord who laid on his altar 
 
 Their prayers and praises, and who, poor, soothly, 
 
 As men count wealth, were well assured 
 
 Of treasure in heaven, where treacherous moth 
 
 And rust corrupteth not, and reaving and thieving 
 
 Are wholly unheard of. The hero forgot not 
 
 To offer Albion's alms and oblations 
 
 To the Prince of Apostles, St. Peter's honored 
 
 Vice-gerent beloved ; laid it loyally, 
 
 Freely and fondly at the feet of the holy
 
 96 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Vicar of Heaven, hoping, trusting 
 
 That his own dear England ever would share 
 
 Her wealth, world-riches with the well-loved Father 
 
 And shepherd of souls, who seeketh not mammon, 
 
 Lusts not for lucre, but lavisheth plenty 
 
 And abundance of blessing with bountiful hands 
 
 On the poor of all lands. Princely Edgar, 
 
 Hoard-ward of heroes, high-hearted liegelord, 
 
 Was loving and lovesome. The Lady Elfleda 
 
 Was the first of the fair, fond-loved maidens 
 
 Whom he well did love as his wife, heart-friend, 
 
 Folk-queen of earlmen : all men loved her, 
 
 Bowed to her beauty, boasting, wagering 
 
 That Ened the Fair was the elf-brightest, beautifulest 
 
 Queen under heaven, called her the white, 
 
 Sighed for her, would have died for her. The sweet, 
 
 precious one 
 
 Bore him a bairn, e'er her beautiful soul 
 God-light elected : lone-mooded, Edgar 
 Lamented in mourning measure and rhythm 
 The loss of the beloved Lady of England, 
 The gracious, graceful, golden-haired maiden 
 Who had blushed on his bosom, and beamed at his side 
 As his beautiful bride ; the bairn he cherished 
 As pledge of the pure, precious embraces 
 Of his elf-lovely Ened. The excellent king, then, 
 Edgar the Peaceable, proudly, serenely, 
 His sceptre did sway ; off the seas swept he 
 The fleets of the foeman ; on the field felled he 
 The thousands that thronged thick for the reaper,
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 97 
 
 Fondly dreaming that the dear-loved, beautiful 
 
 Island of Albion could ever be conquered 
 
 While Edgar the war-famed wielded her sceptre, 
 
 And Dunstan, the holy henchman of Jesus, 
 
 Was living his life-days ; for the Lord God had, 
 
 Wielder of Glory, given His word-oath 
 
 Through the angel's mouth, All- Father holy, 
 
 Had sworn solemnly that the son of great Edmund, 
 
 And Dunstan the saint, in safety should govern 
 
 The isle of the Anglians : He ever is faithful, 
 
 Covenant-keeping king of the heavens, 
 
 Lord everlasting. The land of the Angles 
 
 Shone resplendent with the sheen, luminous 
 
 Lustre and light of the lives of numberless 
 
 Saints of the Lord who lived in that marvellous 
 
 Era of Anglia. Earth had never 
 
 Holier and heavenlier heroes of Jesus 
 
 Than Oswald and Athelwold, excellent, faithful 
 
 Shepherds of souls, and the saintly Dunstan, 
 
 Who sat in the sacred seat of the holy, 
 
 Gracious Augustine, God's beloved 
 
 Apostle to Albion. These priests of the Lord 
 
 And others in Anglia instantly served him 
 
 With praises and prayers, preached his dear gospel 
 
 With their lips and their lives, letting their light 
 
 Shine before men, that many from darkness 
 
 Looked for the lovely, luminous, bright-beaming, 
 
 Life-giving light which the Lord Almighty 
 
 Beams from above with boundless abundance 
 
 On all men that ask Him. So Edgar, the king,
 
 98 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Guided, governed grandly, proudly 
 
 The athelings and earlmen of Albion, blessed 
 
 Isle of the ocean ; he ever was zealous 
 
 To rule in righteousness, rightly marking 
 
 How his fathers before him, folk-lords of Albion, 
 
 Well-loved war-kings, wisely had governed 
 
 The proudest of peoples. The prince of the Anglians, 
 
 Land-chief beloved, longed greatly, then, 
 
 Yearning no little for his Lady to solace him, 
 
 To sit at his side smiling, beguiling 
 
 Days that were dreary, drawling, weary ; 
 
 The heart of the hero was heavy, lone 
 
 As the hours dragged on. Oft he remembered 
 
 Elfleda, the fond-loved folk-queen of Anglia, 
 
 Wished she were with him ; but wise-ruling Father, 
 
 King of all kings, had called her to lay down 
 
 All of her earth-joys and upward, onward 
 
 To soar on her soul's-wings, to seek her celestial 
 
 Home in the heavens. The holy, beloved 
 
 Lady Elfleda had left her earthly 
 
 Lord and his love, and lay on her heavenly 
 
 Bridegroom's bosom, blushing in glory, 
 
 Urging him again to go over the story 
 
 Of his life down below, how he so loved the world 
 
 That he gladly flung down his glittering crown 
 
 At the feet of his Father, to find him a cross 
 
 That would do to die on, to redeem the wretched 
 
 Millions and myriads of men of all races 
 
 Rushing to ruin. 'Mid the raptures of heaven, 
 
 The fair Elfleda failed not to breathe her
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 99 
 
 Pitiful prayers for the poor, comfortless 
 
 Love she had left in the land of the Anglians, 
 
 When she came at the call of the kind-ruling Father 
 
 To her home in the heavens : happy, blissful, 
 
 With abundance of pardon, prayed she that Edgar 
 
 Might wash his soul in the saving, laving 
 
 Blood of the Lamb, might lay his sins too 
 
 On the Lamb that was slain. In the land of Albion, 
 
 Southward, westward, where the waters of Exe 
 
 Wind through the woodlands, lived the winsome, lovely 
 
 Lady Elfrida, famed for her beauty, 
 
 Daughter of Ordgar, excellent, trusty 
 
 Earlman of Devonshire. Eastward, westward, 
 
 To the south and the north, was none but had heard of 
 
 Elfrida the Fair : far o'er the rivers, 
 
 In hamlet and hall, in the home of the thrall, 
 
 In the palace of princes, the peerless charms of this 
 
 Marvellous maiden were the minstrel's theme 
 
 And the lover's dream ; in lands without number 
 
 Famed was Elfrida. The folk-leader mighty, 
 
 Wielder of England, was eager in spirit 
 
 To learn for himself whether Lady Elfrida, 
 
 The dear maid of Devon, daughter of Ordgar, 
 
 Were half so fair as fame had painted her, 
 
 Were truthfully called the queenliest, winsomest 
 
 Woman in Albion. Edgar, the king, then, 
 
 Urged Athelwold, earl of the Anglians, 
 
 His fond-loved friend, to fare westward 
 
 To the manor of Ordgar, and early returning 
 
 To tell him in truth how true were the rumors
 
 ioo Old English Idyls. 
 
 Of this wonderful woman, well to consider 
 
 How the fair maid of Devon would adorn and honor 
 
 The seat of the sweet, sainted Elfleda, 
 
 Handmaid of God, who had gone from his love 
 
 To her bright home above. Blithely went Athehvokl 
 
 Off on his errand ; the earl, hero-thane 
 
 Gladly did go at his gracious liegelord's 
 
 Friendly behest : hastened, delayed not, 
 
 Went to the westward, weening, doubting not, 
 
 He soon should return and tell his dear friend-lord 
 
 That fame had flattered Elfrida of Devon, 
 
 O'er-praised her beauty, that the blessed, stately 
 
 Maidens of Wessex were winsomer, lovelier 
 
 Than all of the other excellent, beautiful 
 
 Ladies of Albion. Athelwolcl hied, then, 
 
 Off to the westward ; early thereafter, 
 
 Came to the home of the high-minded, bold-mooded, 
 
 Brave-hearted baron. There burst on his vision 
 
 The ineffable beauty of the blushing and flushing 
 
 Elfrida, the far-famed. He flung to the winds 
 
 His love for his liegelord : little he cared for 
 
 His king and his kindred ; he craved but the smile 
 
 Of the fond-loved Elfrida, the fairest of women 
 
 The sun ever shone on. Said he but little 
 
 Of the errand that brought him ; of honor he reckeci 
 
 not, 
 
 Thought not of thaneship ; threw away madly 
 All other earth joys, if only the beautiful, 
 Dove-eyed, beloved lady of Devon 
 Would let her dear lips lisp him to rapture,
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 101 
 
 Would murmur the word that was more in his thoughts 
 
 than 
 
 Kindred and country. The queenly Elfrida 
 Listened not loth : lightly, Athelwold 
 Gained from her father the glad, enrapturing 
 Word of consent, then went on his journey 
 Off to the eastward, to Edgar, his king, 
 With lies for his liegelord. The land of the Angles 
 Far to the east had erst ever been 
 Bright to earl Athelwold : dishonor and shame 
 Cloud-like had come now to cover the heavens 
 With darkness a-dreary : death is far better 
 To an excellent atheling than infamous life is. 
 Edgar and Athelwold early did meet, then, 
 Land-prince and liegeman : laughing, jesting, 
 Playfully twitting the prince of the Anglians, 
 Said then Athelwold, earlman, liegeman, 
 Treacherous trickster : " 'T is true, Sire, 
 That maidens of Wessex are winsomer, lovelier. 
 In sooth, fairer than the famed, notable 
 Lady of Devon. I looked on the maiden, 
 And lo ! her face was fair as a vision, 
 Comely her countenance, queenly, majestic, 
 But her form unlovely ; not fain, gladly 
 Would I see her sit in the saintly Elfleda's 
 Seat at thy side ; my soul yearns for the 
 Gracious, graceful, glory-encircled, 
 Fawn-like lady whom liegemen and heroes 
 Delighted to look on. I loth should behold her 
 Unqueenly, uncouth, as she came through the mead-hall
 
 IO2 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Bearing a beaker to benches and dais, 
 
 To liegemen and lord : a laugh of derision 
 
 Might follow the folk-queen." The friend-lord of Wessex, 
 
 Lord of all Albion, answered his thaneman : 
 
 "Thanks do I owe thee, excellent man, 
 
 Good earl Athelwold, for all thou hast spoken, 
 
 Thane-like hast uttered. I early shall render thee 
 
 The meed thou hast earned by thine eminent wisdom, 
 
 Mighty-famed valor. My vassals, dutiful, 
 
 Early shall give thee excellent jewels, 
 
 Goodliest of gold-gems, gifts in abundance, 
 
 War-horses, swords, with the sweetest of maidens 
 
 'Mid the kin of the king to comfort and cheer thee 
 
 With her blushing embraces." Blandly, artfully, 
 
 Athelwold answered : " Edgar, beloved, 
 
 Gold-friend of heroes, grant me, I pray thee, 
 
 This simple petition, myself to wed this 
 
 Maiden of Devon. Debt-weary, harassed, 
 
 The gold of the lady would lighten my burden, 
 
 Greatly would gladden me. Gracious king Edgar, 
 
 Hear my petition." The helm of the Angles, 
 
 Edgar the king, quickly, speedily 
 
 Sent him off on his happy errand to Devonshire, 
 
 Wishing, weening for his well-loved liegeman 
 
 Abundance of bliss in the blushing embraces 
 
 Of Elfrida, the far-famed. The friend-lord of England 
 
 Wist not the grief (God alone knew it) 
 
 Would erelong follow that foul, ineffable 
 
 Lie of his liegeman : the Lord God reigneth, 
 
 And all false ways he utterly abhorreth ;
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 103 
 
 The treacherous tongue he teareth in slivers, 
 
 Plucketh it to pieces ; will punish in hell-fire 
 
 Lips that are lying. The lady of Devon, 
 
 Elfrida the fair, fondly on Athelwold 
 
 Lavished her love : little she dreamed, then, 
 
 That a queen's crown would come at her bidding, 
 
 To beam on her brow. Better had Athelwold 
 
 Never been born, when anon unto Edgar 
 
 The story was told, how the treacherous thaneman 
 
 By falsehood the foulest had filched from his liegelord 
 
 Fond-loving, trustful, the fairest of women 
 
 In all of Albion. Angry of mood, then, 
 
 Was Edgar the Peaceful, early set out to 
 
 East-Anglian land, to learn for himself there 
 
 (No friend should betray him) if Elfrida, in sooth, 
 
 Were half so fair as fame painted her, 
 
 Were called truthfully the queenliest, winsomest 
 
 Woman in Albion. Early anon, 
 
 A henchman of Edgar entered the hall of 
 
 Alderman Athelwold, off to the northward, 
 
 Gave him this greeting : " Great earl Athelwold, 
 
 Edgar, thy fond-loving friend-lord doth greet thee, 
 
 Longeth to meet thee. The lord of all England 
 
 Is hither a-faring ; would fain visit thee 
 
 Here in thy home ; would hold to his bosom 
 
 Edgar the bairn, infant beloved, 
 
 His dear-loved godson ; would greet Elfrida, 
 
 The lady of Devon." Then lorn, wretched 
 
 Was Athelwold earl, anxious of spirit, 
 
 Heavy of heart : hard bested was
 
 IO4 Old English Idyls. 
 
 The tricksy deceiver. Sought he Elfrida, 
 
 He told tenderly the torture and anguish 
 
 That had seized on his soul, beseeching forgiveness 
 
 For the wrong he had wrought her, wretchedly besought 
 
 her 
 
 By the love that he bore her, begged her to save him 
 From the fury of Edgar ; urged her beseechingly 
 So to conceal her soul-dazzling beauty 
 That the king would not crave her, nor kill him in anger 
 For the wrong he had wrought him. But wrathful, wroth 
 Was the Lady Elfrida : her love, then, turned to 
 Hatred the hottest. The high-born folk-lady 
 Was frantic and frenzied, flung away pity ; 
 Bitter her words were : " Woe unto Athelwold, 
 Liar, deceiver ! As Lady of England 
 And of all of Albion, / had been honored, 
 Had lie been but trusty. The traitor shall perish 
 Ere to-day's sun sinketh." Secretly she clad her 
 In robes that were richest, arrayed her gorgeously 
 In precious apparel, put on the rarest 
 Of jewels and gems that the generous-mooded, 
 Loving but treacherous lord of East-Anglia 
 Long had been lavishing on his Lady Elfrida, 
 And went forth to welcome the world-famous hero, 
 England's dear Edgar. Early anon 
 There burst on the king that abundant, ineffable 
 Vision of loveliness that had lured earl Athelwold 
 Down to dishonor, had dazzled a liegeman . 
 To be false to his folk-lord. The defender of heroes, 
 Lord of all Albion, looked on Elfrida
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 105 
 
 With rapture and wonder ; wist he how basely 
 
 His liegeman had lied : loved he the fairest 
 
 And winsomest of women ; would wed her forthwith 
 
 And slay her deceiver. Soon thereafter, 
 
 Athelwold earl and Edgar his liegelord 
 
 Hunted in Wherwell. Hot in his spirit, 
 
 Bitter and angry, Edgar the king 
 
 Smote with his lance the lying, treacherous 
 
 Earl of East-Anglia ; out in the wood there 
 
 Did him to death ; down he fell head-long, 
 
 Dead in his traces. Dear-loved Edgar 
 
 Wedded Elfrida, widely-famed, beautiful 
 
 Daughter of Ordgar. Ethelred king 
 
 And Edmund the atheling, early thereafter, 
 
 Were born of her body, bairns of Edgar, 
 
 Dear little princes. Daily, nightly, 
 
 Ever incessantly, Edgar the king 
 
 And the fond-loved Elfrida found on their hearts the 
 
 Burden of sin ; saw no peace till 
 
 They builded a minster by the margin of Wherwell, 
 
 A house to the Lord. Holy virgins, 
 
 Servants of Jesus, they set therein, then ; 
 
 Singing their songs, sweetest of melodies ; 
 
 Ever they raise anthems of praise, 
 
 Hymns of thanksgiving, heavenward breathing 
 
 By day and by night their never-remitting 
 
 Prayers of faith with fasting and vigil, 
 
 To God and His glory. Great was Edgar, 
 
 Far spread his fame : few and slight were 
 
 The sins of his soul. Some of the elders,
 
 io6 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Old men of England, often have told us 
 
 That the king was too kind to the cruel, perfidious, 
 
 Lecherous Danemen, too lenient of mood 
 
 To sea-dogs and vikings who had swooped from the 
 
 northward 
 
 And eastward of England ; but all of the holy, 
 Pious and godly priests of the Lord God, 
 Servants of Heaven, say that that atheling 
 Was blotless and spotless. Though spacious his fame, 
 Edgar was-humble ; earnest, God-fearing 
 Son of the church, seeking, begging 
 The counsel of learned liegemen of Jesus, 
 Bishops and fathers ; fain delayed his 
 Crowning as king, till there came to his spirit 
 Forgiveness and peace, pardon for all the 
 Sins of his youth-days. A sixteen of winters 
 He ruled over Albion, ere the eminent, pious 
 Dunstan and Oswald, athelings of Heaven, 
 Laid on his head hands of anointing, 
 Hallowing, holy ; held to his lips 
 The blessed, beautiful book of the gospels 
 That our kings have kissed when, crowned, they appealed 
 
 for 
 
 Help unto Heaven. The hero-liegelord 
 Early thereafter set out to the northward, 
 Sailing the seas that encircle and girdle 
 The island of Albion : ocean was glad, 
 Winsome the waters, welcomed the beautiful, 
 Fleeting and foamy floats of the Anglians 
 That bosomed the waters ; begging, craving
 
 Edgar the Peaceable. 107 
 
 The honor of wafting England's dear barks 
 
 Off on their errand. Out on the waves, then, 
 
 Forth on the flood-deeps, fared the dear vessels 
 
 Far and away ; westward, northward, 
 
 The birds of the billow breasted the waters, 
 
 Skimming the currents, came then early 
 
 Where dear-loved Dee, dashing, splashing, 
 
 Northward and westward windeth and bendeth, 
 
 Rushing to seaward. Soon, then, Edgar, 
 
 Lord of all Albion, loftily, proudly 
 
 Saw there awaiting him widely- famed earlmen 
 
 And athelings of Albion, eight of them ready 
 
 To bow to his bidding ; blithe was the hero, 
 
 Lord of the Anglians ; not ever had king 
 
 Liegemen-thanes so illustrious, mighty 
 
 As Edgar of England. The excellent heroes, 
 
 Nine dear athelings, early anon 
 
 Mounted a sea-boat, sailing o'er Dee's 
 
 Well-loved waters : wide-famous Edgar 
 
 Guided the helm ; his high-mooded liegemen, 
 
 Eight great earlmen and athelings of Albion, 
 
 Bent to the oars, and brought the good sea-wood, 
 
 Bark of the atheling, early thereafter 
 
 To the shrine of St. John, where they joined their voices 
 
 In praises and prayer, passing erelong 
 
 Back on their journey. Joyous, gleeful, 
 
 Exultant was Edgar : England, beloved 
 
 Mother of heroes, though mighty her fame is, 
 
 Not ever had seen, nor e'er had dreamed of 
 
 The sight seen there by swains of that marvellous
 
 io8 Old English Idyls. 
 
 Era of heroes, when Edgar, her liegelord, 
 
 Had kings for oarsmen, eager, craving 
 
 To serve at his bidding. The blessed Edgar 
 
 Early thereafter ended his earth-joys, 
 
 The lord of all Albion chose another light, 
 
 Beauteous and winsome ; the wielder of England 
 
 Abandoned this frail, this barren life, 
 
 And sailed on his soul's-wings to his sweet, blessed 
 
 Home in the heavens, where he hero-like serveth 
 
 With angels and archangels forever and ever.
 
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 HUDSON'S SHAKESPEARE 
 
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 By HENRY N. HUDSON, LL.D., 
 
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 Editor of " Tht Harvard Shakespeare" etc. 
 
 Revised and enlarged Editions of twenty-three Plays. Carefully expurgated, 
 
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 and blood, and creates a great interest on the part of the student and a 
 love for Shakespeare's works, without which no special progress can be 
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 author or his works is the person who renders the greatest service. 
 
 The list of plays in Hudson's School Shakespeare is as follows : 
 
 A Midsummer Night's Dream. Henry the Fourth, Part I. Macbeth. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice. Henry the Fourth, Part II. Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing. Henry the Fifth. Othello. 
 
 As You Like It. Henry the Eighth. Cymbeline. 
 
 The Tempest. Romeo and Juliet. Coriolanus, 
 
 King John. Julius Caesar. Twelfth Night. 
 
 Richard the Second. Hamlet. The Winter's Tale. 
 
 Richard the Third. King Lear. 
 
 C. T. Winchester, Professor of Eng 
 lish Literature, Wesley an University: 
 The notes and comments in the school 
 edition are admirably fitted to the need of 
 the student, removing his difficulties by 
 stimulating his interest and quickening his 
 perception. 
 
 Hiram Cor son, Professor of English 
 Literature, Cornell University: I con 
 sider them altogether excellent. The 
 notes give all the aid needed for an under 
 standing of the text, without waste and 
 distraction of the student's mind. The 
 introductory matter to the several plays is 
 especially worthy of approbation. 
 
 invite correspondence with all who are interested in the 
 study of Shakespeare in the class-roont. 
 
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