A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
 | I. |
| 1. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 2. |
| 3. |
|
|
|
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| II. |
| 7. |
|
|
|
|
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
|
|
| 12. |
 | A Metrical History of England |  |
124
“'Twas party deceit,
“Help'd the Normans to beat,
“Of traitors they managed to buy land;
“Pict, Saxon, or Dane,
“Had assail'd us in vain,
“While true to the king of the island.
“Brave Harold fought hard for the island,
“He lost both his life and the island;
“And the records of fame
`Shall add to his name,
“Like a Briton he died for his island.”
T. Dibdin's Songs.
“Help'd the Normans to beat,
“Of traitors they managed to buy land;
“Pict, Saxon, or Dane,
“Had assail'd us in vain,
“While true to the king of the island.
“Brave Harold fought hard for the island,
“He lost both his life and the island;
“And the records of fame
`Shall add to his name,
“Like a Briton he died for his island.”
T. Dibdin's Songs.
HAROLD THE SECOND.
The truth demands, yet we record with pain,
How brief the honours of this short liv'd reign.
Crowns take some value from a nation's voice,
And Harold was, 'tis said, the people's choice:
Harold, (the son of Godwin,) who proclaim'd
That he by Edward was successor named;
William, the Duke of Normandy, declares,
The same pretence; and these two self-named heirs,
Alike, rejecting each the other's word,
Refer decision to the sharpest sword;
Mean time, as oft the muse of hist'ry sings,
The subjects suffer for contending Kings.
How brief the honours of this short liv'd reign.
Crowns take some value from a nation's voice,
And Harold was, 'tis said, the people's choice:
Harold, (the son of Godwin,) who proclaim'd
That he by Edward was successor named;
William, the Duke of Normandy, declares,
The same pretence; and these two self-named heirs,
Alike, rejecting each the other's word,
Refer decision to the sharpest sword;
Mean time, as oft the muse of hist'ry sings,
The subjects suffer for contending Kings.
125
William 'ere yet his fortune he essayed,
With Norway's chief, and Harold's brother made
A league that they should first the isle invade;
Their early efforts with success were crown'd,
And British men gave way on British ground.
Northumberland and Mercia's Earls were beat,
But Harold's arm so well that loss redeem'd
That neither of his foes surviv'd defeat.
And victory in mercy's smile was drest,
The last, last time she beam'd,
On hapless Harold's crest.
To Norway's son the King allow'd retreat,
And greatly gave him back his father's captive fleet.
With Norway's chief, and Harold's brother made
A league that they should first the isle invade;
Their early efforts with success were crown'd,
And British men gave way on British ground.
Northumberland and Mercia's Earls were beat,
But Harold's arm so well that loss redeem'd
That neither of his foes surviv'd defeat.
And victory in mercy's smile was drest,
The last, last time she beam'd,
On hapless Harold's crest.
To Norway's son the King allow'd retreat,
And greatly gave him back his father's captive fleet.
But whose the ships afar descried,
Reflected by the glassy tide,
Where chiefs in arms refulgent ride,
Our fears exciting?
Reflected by the glassy tide,
Where chiefs in arms refulgent ride,
Our fears exciting?
'Tis Norman William and his band,
Near, and more near, they make the land!
And who their prowess shall withstand,
For England fighting?
Near, and more near, they make the land!
And who their prowess shall withstand,
For England fighting?
126
Mark! high exalted o'er the rest,
Where Baieux' Bishop proudly drest,
Blesses the crew with hands unblest,
To blood inviting!
Where Baieux' Bishop proudly drest,
Blesses the crew with hands unblest,
To blood inviting!
They land! To earth see mail-clad William falls,
His troops the omen not appals;
Turf, and the cotter's thatch, his warriors bring,
As seizen of the soil, and hail the invader, King.
His troops the omen not appals;
Turf, and the cotter's thatch, his warriors bring,
As seizen of the soil, and hail the invader, King.
What knight, in breast-plate wrought with gold,
Marshals yon troop of bowmen bold,
Who land in numbers yet untold,
Each other chearing?
Marshals yon troop of bowmen bold,
Who land in numbers yet untold,
Each other chearing?
'Tis Aimar, with good reason vain
Of troops he leads from Acquitain,
Each knight of whom some peer has slain,
No foeman fearing.
Of troops he leads from Acquitain,
Each knight of whom some peer has slain,
No foeman fearing.
And there, a thousand men at arms
Fitz-Osborn's shrill-toned clarion charms,
While every echoing blast alarms
Our startled hearing.
Fitz-Osborn's shrill-toned clarion charms,
While every echoing blast alarms
Our startled hearing.
127
The deep drum rolls, and, as the threat'ning throng,
Beneath their frowning banners move along,
The shore resounds with Rollo's martial song.
Beneath their frowning banners move along,
The shore resounds with Rollo's martial song.
De Beaumont, Lacy, Pevrel, each an host,
(The noblest warriors from the Norman coast)
D'Evreux, Fitz-Richard, with that chieftain famed,
Charles Martel, and (too num'rous to be named)
Longueville, De Thours, Grantmesnil, and Mortaigne,
De Estaples, Warrean, Giffard, and a train,
With Eustace de Boulogne of men renowned.
And, hark again the drum, and hark the trumpet's sound!
Forward they march, and now, from William sent,
A Norman herald seeks the royal tent;
There fiercely throws his master's gauntlet down,
Who proffers single combat for the crown.
Harold with stern disdain the pledge denies,
And on his people's love, and heav'n's high aid, relies.
(The noblest warriors from the Norman coast)
D'Evreux, Fitz-Richard, with that chieftain famed,
Charles Martel, and (too num'rous to be named)
Longueville, De Thours, Grantmesnil, and Mortaigne,
De Estaples, Warrean, Giffard, and a train,
With Eustace de Boulogne of men renowned.
And, hark again the drum, and hark the trumpet's sound!
Forward they march, and now, from William sent,
A Norman herald seeks the royal tent;
There fiercely throws his master's gauntlet down,
Who proffers single combat for the crown.
Harold with stern disdain the pledge denies,
And on his people's love, and heav'n's high aid, relies.
128
Yet why before the arbitrative day,
Expectant of the fight,
Did Britons pass the night
In song unseemly and carousal gay?
While to the sacred pow'r that rules the skies,
Unnumber'd Norman prayers and praises rise.
Expectant of the fight,
Did Britons pass the night
In song unseemly and carousal gay?
While to the sacred pow'r that rules the skies,
Unnumber'd Norman prayers and praises rise.
'Tis dawn!—'Tis day! once more the trumpet's throat
Brays bold defiance—who can tell
What numbers in its dreadful note
Have heard their dying knell?
Brays bold defiance—who can tell
What numbers in its dreadful note
Have heard their dying knell?
No thund'ring cannon here the field affrights,
But from a thousand chosen knights
The Norman bowstring's fatal twang
Echoed by groans responsive rang.
Not there with simultaneous sound
The well-timed musquetry is found;
But on the glitt'ring ranks,
On iron helms the falling iron clanks,
And cleaves through shiver'd mail with dreadful wound.
But from a thousand chosen knights
The Norman bowstring's fatal twang
Echoed by groans responsive rang.
Not there with simultaneous sound
The well-timed musquetry is found;
But on the glitt'ring ranks,
On iron helms the falling iron clanks,
And cleaves through shiver'd mail with dreadful wound.
Not there, as late on Maida's plains,
The British bayonet the palm obtains;
But sturdy pikemen pierce th' embattled field,
And bear to earth who bears th' opposing shield.
The British bayonet the palm obtains;
129
And bear to earth who bears th' opposing shield.
The English bill, dread weapon, hews it way,
And Harold's valour almost claims the day.
Three foaming coursers under William slain
Add blood to blood on the ensanguined plain:
The Duke undaunted, “dares again the field,”
The dauntless monarch scorns alike to yield;
His loyal soldiers gallantly contend,
While Norman hopes of conquest nearly end;
The Kentish phalanx ev'ry onset dares,
And fierce invasion pauses and despairs.
And Harold's valour almost claims the day.
Three foaming coursers under William slain
Add blood to blood on the ensanguined plain:
The Duke undaunted, “dares again the field,”
The dauntless monarch scorns alike to yield;
His loyal soldiers gallantly contend,
While Norman hopes of conquest nearly end;
The Kentish phalanx ev'ry onset dares,
And fierce invasion pauses and despairs.
O, stratagem! in war, as love, allow'd,
Too oft thy keen-brain'd cunning foils the brave;
Too oft his living laurels charm the crowd,
Who vanquish'd, but for thee, had found a grave.
Too oft thy keen-brain'd cunning foils the brave;
Too oft his living laurels charm the crowd,
Who vanquish'd, but for thee, had found a grave.
While fortune, and while justice in the scale,
Alternately our hopes and fears divide:
While justice seems a moment to prevail,
See fortune turn, by artifice, the tide.
Alternately our hopes and fears divide:
While justice seems a moment to prevail,
See fortune turn, by artifice, the tide.
130
The foe before the English force retreat,
The English follow to unlook'd defeat;
For suddenly the wily band returns,
The fray renew'd with ten-fold fury burns.
Again the spear, the battle-axe, the bow,
Destroy the van, and lay the distant low!
The British, late of victory secure,
Outwitted thus, the contest scarce endure.
The English follow to unlook'd defeat;
For suddenly the wily band returns,
The fray renew'd with ten-fold fury burns.
Again the spear, the battle-axe, the bow,
Destroy the van, and lay the distant low!
The British, late of victory secure,
Outwitted thus, the contest scarce endure.
But Harold, Harold, now supremely great,
Proudly superior to thy savage fate;
Once, twice, and thrice, from rank to rank he flew,
Once, twice, and thrice, his ranks the fight renew.
Again he leads 'em with resistless rage,
Again a fruitless war the Normans wage;
Another onset ends the doubtful strife,
He leads, he falls, and loses but his life!
His crown he never lost, who, unsurpast,
Maintain'd it like a Briton, to the last.
While hand to hand death threaten'd him in vain,
The shaft accurs'd that pierc'd his royal brain
Left William less a victor than the slain.
Ill-fame betide the coward hand that drew
The fatal string, and such an hero slew.
Two gallant brothers fighting by his side,
Thousands of faithful hearts, their leader's pride,
His patriot laurels with his fate divide.
Proudly superior to thy savage fate;
Once, twice, and thrice, from rank to rank he flew,
Once, twice, and thrice, his ranks the fight renew.
Again he leads 'em with resistless rage,
Again a fruitless war the Normans wage;
Another onset ends the doubtful strife,
He leads, he falls, and loses but his life!
His crown he never lost, who, unsurpast,
Maintain'd it like a Briton, to the last.
While hand to hand death threaten'd him in vain,
The shaft accurs'd that pierc'd his royal brain
Left William less a victor than the slain.
131
The fatal string, and such an hero slew.
Two gallant brothers fighting by his side,
Thousands of faithful hearts, their leader's pride,
His patriot laurels with his fate divide.
Peace to their manes! cou'd th' unequal pen
But justly celebrate the glorious men;
The Poet's lay a deathless fame shou'd raise,
And deeds immortal meet immortal praise.
But justly celebrate the glorious men;
The Poet's lay a deathless fame shou'd raise,
And deeds immortal meet immortal praise.
| A Metrical History of England | |