University of Virginia Library

VIII.

God.
Harold, what wouldest do?

Har.
Bethink thee what.
Here lieth England, all her rights unfree,
Here lie the Normans cutting her by lot,
Restraining every native plant to gre,
What would I do? I furious would them sle,
Tear out their sable heart by rightful breme.
Their death a means unto my life should be,
My sprite should revel in their heart-blood's stream.
Eftsoons I will reveal my rageful ire,
And Goddès anlace wield in fury dire.