A Mirror of Faith :: :: University of Virginia Library

“O go not forth, my liege, to day!
let Leofwin lead the van,
For God is just, Lord Harold,
to judge the perjured man:
Think on the relics of the Saints
o'er whom thy oath was sworn:
And dread their vengeance, if thyself
conduct the host at morn!”

King Harold laughs the rede to scorn:
“And by my fay,” quoth he,
“The Bastard would deserve a land
from whence the king could flee!
Norweyan Jarls, at Stamford Bridge,
another welcome found,
When, for the realm they came to win,
they found six feet of ground.”

In dance, and feast, and revelry,
the Saxons pass the night;
The Normans cry to God on High
to aid them in the fight:
And either host, on chosen post,
was set in meet array,
All as it drew to hour of tierce,
on Saint Calixtus' day.

Burgundian archers hold the van,
then Anjou's heavy mail,
And last the Norman men-at-arms,
when archery shall fail:

In Tristan's hands the banner stands,
all blessed beyond the seas:
Shine in the front of battle brunt
Saint Peter's golden keys.

The Saxons spread an iron line
before their crescent wood:
Then rose the war-cries, “God with us!”
“Christ's Rood, the Holy Rood!”
Fell fast the Norman arrow-sleet,
and right and left ye view,
The volunteers of Burgundy,
and spearmen of Anjou.

The men of Picardy fall back:
Duke William gives the sign;
And like a thunderbolt, his knights
are on King Harold's line:
The knights go down, the line stands firm,
sword shivers, corslet cracks,
And men-at-arms scarce curse in death
the Saxon battle-axe.

The Bastard rides along his lines,
for rumour held him slain:
“Here, by God's Grace, I am,” quoth he,
and by His Grace will reign;”
Forthwith upon the foe again
rolls on the Norman shock,
Dash'd, in the very charge, away,
like foam upon a rock.

Knight after knight, and man on man,
swell up war's sad amount;
Soul after soul, the live-long day,
gives in the last account:
Till at the time the sun went down,
and night was on the sea,
There went a rumour through the host,
“King Harold, where is he?”

Thou, as thou stand'st in Waltham Nave,
think gently of the dead:
The fault was heavy, so the doom;
oath broken, life-blood shed;

Prejudge not Him That in His Love
full often striketh here,
That so the soul, in Day of Doom,
With glory may appear.

Leofwin and Gurth were the brothers of Harold. They requested him to allow them to lead the army, since the guilt of perjury could not attach to them. They were both slain in the battle.

William of Normandy is said to have made Harold swear fealty to him over a chest, of the contents of which the latter was ignorant. They proved to be the relics of the most famous saints, collected from the various churches of his duchy.

The battle of Stamford Bridge was fought fifteen days before that of Hastings. The Norwegians received in it a signal defeat.

“Martyris in Christi Festo cecidere Calisti,” said the inscription commemorating the event in Battle Abbey.

Waltham Abbey was founded by Harold: he was probably burled there. The only legend to his sepulchre is said to have been ‘Harold Infelix.’