Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch :: :: University of Virginia Library

It was the Duke of Normandy
Rode forth at break of day,
With pennons curling on the breeze
In bright and proud array:
The flower of all the continent
Composed his valiant train;
The knights of Flanders and Poictou,
Bologne, Orleans, and Maine.

II

It was at ancient Pevensey,
On the noble Sussex coast,
The bold Duke William landed
With a fierce and warlike host,
Of sixty thousand gallant men,
With splendid arms supplied—
Cross-bows and quivers at their back,
And broad-swords by their side.

III

To win fair England's glorious crown,
Duke William rode that morn,
With battle-axe, and spear, and dart,
With sounding drum and horn.
Nor long nor weary was the way
They marched ere fall of night,
When by the brave King Harold led,
Came the rival host in sight!

IV

Then spake the Duke of Normandy:
“Speed, herald, bold and free,
To the leader of yon martial host,
This challenge bear from me—
In single combat to decide
Our stern and mortal feud;
Thus blood of thousands may be spared
If either falls subdued.”

V

One moment, in the monarch's sight
The fearless herald stood,
And gallantly the challenge gave
To spare the waste of blood.
Scarce breathed the word, ere on him lowered
Full many a dark'ning glance—
A hundred warriors struck the shield,
And grasped the ponderous lance!

VI

Straight answer made the wrathful king:
“Return thou to the duke;
To meet his chivalrous desire
Would rouse our chiefs' rebuke:
Unto the God of Arms we leave
The chances of the fight;
And wear his brow the victory
Whose sword is in the right!”

VII

With banquet-song, and revelry,
Within the British tent,
The hours from dusky evening
To twilight dawn were spent.
Not thus within the Norman camp—
A different scene shone there—
Hands clasped in deep solemnity,
Knees lowly bent in prayer!

100

VIII

Ere yet the purple morning hour
Illumined the eastern sky,
The clash of arms rang merrily
With the stirring battle-cry.
A fatal shower of piercing steel
From the Norman cross-bows flew,
And many a valiant Kentishman
On the stormy onset slew!

IX

But swift to closer fight they rushed,
And brisker warmed the strife;
And deadlier the contention grew,—
Fiercer the thirst for life!
Beneath the bold, adventurous duke,
Three fiery steeds were slain!—
His falchion waved the goriest,
Upon that gory plain!

101

X

On spurred the Saxons to the charge,
While axe and glaive swept far;
And bravely smote they to the hilt,
Like lions bred to war!
Full to the centre of their square
The Normans felt the shock;
Yet stood they firm and stedfastly,
As stands the giant rock!

XI

Like lightning through the element
A trenchant arrow flashed,
And into Harold's royal brain
Through helm and temple dashed!
He sank: yet to the death his voice
Was heard in hoarse command;
And fiercely grasped, his reeking blade
Gleamed in his red right hand!

102

XII

Then joyous shouts of victory
Far shook the circling air;
And helms were doffed, and banners waved,
And knees were bended there!
With—Live, long live the Conqueror!—
Did thousand voices ring:
God save illustrious William,
Our great, our glorious King!