 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
114
The Bewcastle Cross
Hwaetred, Wothgar and Olwfwolthu!
Still does the cross ye set stand true
—The slender beacon-sign to tell
Where Alcfrith son of Oswy fell,
The beacon-sign that bids us pray
His soul's high sin be cast away.
Still does the cross ye set stand true
—The slender beacon-sign to tell
Where Alcfrith son of Oswy fell,
The beacon-sign that bids us pray
His soul's high sin be cast away.
Here where the plaintive curlews cry,
Where the sound of the beck comes up like a sigh,
Here where the Roman dead are laid,
Here where the Church's prayers are said,
The great Cross speaks of Oswy's son
Who fell, but knew the fight was won.
Where the sound of the beck comes up like a sigh,
Here where the Roman dead are laid,
Here where the Church's prayers are said,
The great Cross speaks of Oswy's son
Who fell, but knew the fight was won.
No more their watch the Britons keep,
The Roman soldiers lie asleep,
Earl Būeth's castle fades, and fall
The stones he took from the Roman wall,
But fearless of the passing years
The carven pillar's grace uprears,
The beacon-sign so tall and thin
That tells the tale of King Alcfrith's sin.
The Roman soldiers lie asleep,
Earl Būeth's castle fades, and fall
The stones he took from the Roman wall,
But fearless of the passing years
The carven pillar's grace uprears,
115
That tells the tale of King Alcfrith's sin.
Long since the cross-head suffered loss,
But firm in socket stands the Cross,
And speechless now with shadow-mouth
The dial gnomonless fronts the south;
While o'er and under an endless cord
Tells of the life of a endless Lord,
And ever still, with Christ for root,
The grape-vine flourishes, leaf and fruit;
For they who set this victory sign
Had faith in the life of God's true vine.
But firm in socket stands the Cross,
And speechless now with shadow-mouth
The dial gnomonless fronts the south;
While o'er and under an endless cord
Tells of the life of a endless Lord,
And ever still, with Christ for root,
The grape-vine flourishes, leaf and fruit;
For they who set this victory sign
Had faith in the life of God's true vine.
Clear to the north the carving stands—
Made by the skill of English hands—
Billet and twisted knot and scroll,
To bid men pray for King Alcfrith's soul.
Made by the skill of English hands—
Billet and twisted knot and scroll,
To bid men pray for King Alcfrith's soul.
Lo! eastward grown, from earth to sky,
The Tree of God that cannot die;
Not yet irreverential man
Had put dumb creatures under ban;
There sits the peacock, broods the dove,
The squirrel feeds in peace above.
The Tree of God that cannot die;
Not yet irreverential man
Had put dumb creatures under ban;
There sits the peacock, broods the dove,
The squirrel feeds in peace above.
Fair Tree of Life! who face to face
In wonder sees your peerless grace,
Harmonious leaf and fruit, the swerve
And balance of each living curve,
Must feel, tho' beaten from his wall,
The Lombard mind was Lord of all,
And that from Rome the Anglian caught
The skill with which the sculptor wrought.
In wonder sees your peerless grace,
116
And balance of each living curve,
Must feel, tho' beaten from his wall,
The Lombard mind was Lord of all,
And that from Rome the Anglian caught
The skill with which the sculptor wrought.
High on the west the Baptist stands,
The Lamb of God is in his hands;
Beneath, most solemn and most sweet,
Christ spurns the Dragon under feet,
And lifts His tender hand to bless
All dwellers in this wilderness.
The Lamb of God is in his hands;
Beneath, most solemn and most sweet,
Christ spurns the Dragon under feet,
And lifts His tender hand to bless
All dwellers in this wilderness.
Beneath the Christ deep runes we ken—
First writing by the graver's pen
In England left to Englishmen;
Runes that still keep memorial true
Of Hwaetred, Wothgar and Olwfwolthu,
Saying that here they set the sign
To Alcfrith, King of Oswy's line.—
The beacon-sign of victory thin.—
To bid us pray for Alcfrith's sin,
That sin for which we still must pray
Tho' centuries twelve have passed away.
First writing by the graver's pen
In England left to Englishmen;
Runes that still keep memorial true
Of Hwaetred, Wothgar and Olwfwolthu,
Saying that here they set the sign
To Alcfrith, King of Oswy's line.—
The beacon-sign of victory thin.—
To bid us pray for Alcfrith's sin,
That sin for which we still must pray
Tho' centuries twelve have passed away.
Yea, tho' in battle that he won
He fell for Christ, King Oswy's son,
Twelve centuries' prayer have not sufficed
For him who turned his back on Christ,
Who sinned against the Holy Ghost,
And joined dark Penda's pagan host,
Who tho' of Church and faith he came,
Wrought on the Christian, deeds of shame.
He fell for Christ, King Oswy's son,
117
For him who turned his back on Christ,
Who sinned against the Holy Ghost,
And joined dark Penda's pagan host,
Who tho' of Church and faith he came,
Wrought on the Christian, deeds of shame.
And we who gaze beneath may see
The king for whom we urge the plea—
The king who fought against the Christ—
A hooded hawk is on his wrist,
The hawk that never stooped in vain
On Cumbrian moor, Bernician plain—
The hawk, fit symbol of the word,
Which marked him quarry for the Lord—
The word whose wings of conscience fleet
Brought him smit thro' to Christ's fair feet.
The king for whom we urge the plea—
The king who fought against the Christ—
A hooded hawk is on his wrist,
The hawk that never stooped in vain
On Cumbrian moor, Bernician plain—
The hawk, fit symbol of the word,
Which marked him quarry for the Lord—
The word whose wings of conscience fleet
Brought him smit thro' to Christ's fair feet.
Hwaetred, Wothgar and Olwfwolthu!
Still does the cross ye set stand true;
Still does it tell of Oswy's son,
Who falling knew the victory won,
And bids us at Bewcastle pray,
Lest Alcfrith's soul be cast away.
Still does the cross ye set stand true;
Still does it tell of Oswy's son,
Who falling knew the victory won,
And bids us at Bewcastle pray,
Lest Alcfrith's soul be cast away.
| Poems at Home and Abroad | |