The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell |
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| II. | BATTLE OF HASTINGS. (No. II.) |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton |  |
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BATTLE OF HASTINGS. (No. II.)
I
Oh Truth! immortal daughter of the skies,Too little known to writers of these days,
Teach me, fair Saint! thy passing worth to prize,
To blame a friend and give a foeman praise.
The fickle moon, bedeck'd with silver rays,
Leading a train of stars of feeble light,
With look adigne the world below surveys,
The world, that wotted not it could be night;
With armour donn'd, with human gore y-dyed,
She sees king Harold stand, fair England's curse and pride.
158
II
With ale and vernage drunk, his soldiers lay;Here was a hind, anigh an earlè spread,
Sad keeping of their leader's natal day!
This eve in drink, to-morrow with the dead.
Through every troop disorder rear'd her head;
Dancing and heideignes was the only theme.
Sad doom was theirs who left this easy bed,
And woke in torments from so sweet a dream.
Duke William's men, of coming death afraid,
All night to the great God for succour ask'd and pray'd.
III
Thus Harold to his wights who stood around:“Go, Gurth and Eilward, take bills half-a-score,
And search how far our foeman's camp doth bound;
Yourself have rede, I need to say no more.
My brother best beloved of any ore,
My Leöfwinus, go to every wight,
Tell them to range the battle to the grore,
And waiten till I send the hest for fight.”
He said; the loyal brothers left the place,
Success and cheerfulness depicted on each face.
IV
Slowly brave Gurth and Eilward did advance,And marked with care the army's distant side,
When the dire clattering of the shield and lance
Made them to be by Hugh Fitzhugh espied.
159
Like wolves in winter did the Normans yell.
Gurth drew his sword, and cut his burlèd hide;
The proto-slain man of the field, he fell;
Out streamed the blood, and ran in smoking curls,
Reflected by the moon, seemed rubies mixed with pearls.
V
A troop of Normans from the mass-song came,Roused from their prayèrs by the flotting cry,
Though Gurth and Ailwardus perceived the same,
Not once they stood abashed or thought to fly.
He seized a bill, to conquer or to die;
Fierce as a clevis from a rock y-torn,
That makes a valley wheresoe'er it lie,
Fierce as a river bursting from the borne,
So fiercely Gurth hit Fitz du Gore a blow,
And on the verdant plain he laid the champion low.
VI
Tancarville thus: “All peace, in William's name;Let none y-draw his arcublaster bow.”
Gurth cased his weapon, as he heard the same,
And 'venging Normans stayed the flying flo.
The sire went on: “Ye men, what mean ye so,
Thus unprovoked to court a bloody fight?”
160
Nor dread thy duke with all his men of might;
Here single, only these, to all thy crew
Shall shew what English hands and hearts can do.”
VII
“Seek not for blood,” Tancarville calm replied,“Nor joy in death, like madmen most distraught;
In peace and mercy is a Christian's pride,
He that doth contests prize is in a fault.”
And now the news was to Duke William brought,
That men of Harold's army taken were;
For their good cheer all caties were enthought,
And Gurth and Eilwardus enjoyed good cheer.
Quoth William: “Thus shall Willïam be found
A friend to every man that treads on English ground.”
VIII
Earl Leöfwinus through the camp y-passed,And saw both men and earlès on the ground;
They slept, as though they would have slept their last
And had already felt their fatal wound.
He started back, and was with shame astound,
Looked wan with anger, and he shook with rage,
When through the hollow tents these words did sound,
“Rouse from your sleep, detractors of the age!
Was it for this the stout Norwegian bled?
Awake, ye house-carles, now, or waken with the dead!”
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IX
As when the shepherd in the shady bowerIn gentle slumbers chase the heat of day,
Hears doubling echo wind the wolfin's roar,
That near his flock is watching for a prey,
He trembling for his sheep drives dream away,
Grips fast his burlèd crook, and sore adrad
With fleeting strides he hastens to the fray,
And rage and prowess fires the coistrel lad;
With trusty talbots to the battle flies,
And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the skies.
X
Such was the dire confusion of each wight,That rose from sleep and loathsome power of wine;
They thought the foe by treachery in the night
Had broke their camp and gotten past the line;
Now here, now there, the shields and bill-spears shine,
Throughout the camp a wild confusion spread;
Each braced his armlet surer by design;
The crested helmet nodded on the head;
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King Harold heard the charge, and wondered at the sound.
XI
Thus Leöfwine: “O women, cased in steel,Was it for this Norwegia's stubborn seed
Through the black armour did the anlace feel,
And ribs of solid brass were made to bleed,
Whilst yet the world was wondering at the deed?
You soldiers, that should stand with bill in hand,
Get full of wine, devoid of any rede.
Oh, shame! Oh, dire dishonour to the land!”
He said; and shame on every visage spread,
Nor saw the earlès face, but, wakened, hung their head.
XII
Thus he: “Rouse ye, and form the body tight,The Kentishmen in front, for strength renowned,
Next, the Bristowans dare the bloody fight,
And last, the numerous crew shall press the ground.
I and my king be with the Kenters found,
Bythric and Alfwold head the Bristol band,
And Bertram's son, the man of glorious wound,
Lead in the rear the mengèd of the land;
And let the Londoners and Sussers ply
By Hereward's command, and the light skirts annoy.”
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XIII
He said; and as a pack of hounds belent,When that the tracking of the hare is gone,
If one perchance shall hit upon the scent,
With twice redoubled fire the alans run;
So stirred the valiant Saxons every one;
Soon linkèd man to man the champions stood.
To 'tone for their misdeed so soon 'twas done,
And lifted bills appeared an iron wood.
Here glorious Alfwold towered above the wights,
And seemed to brave the fire of twice ten thousand fights.
XIV
Thus Leöfwine: “To-day will England's doomBe fixed for aye, for good or evil state,
This sun's adventure felt for years to come;
Then bravely fight, and live till death of date.
Think of brave Ælfredus, y-clept ‘the Great;’
From port to port the red-haired Dane he chased,
The Danes, with whom not lioncels could mate,
Who made of peopled realms a barren waste;
Think how at once by you Norwegia bled,
Whilst death and victory for mastery bested.”
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XV
Meanwhile did Gurth unto King Harold ride,And told how he did with Duke William fare;
Brave Harold looked askance, and thus replied;
“And can thy faith be bought with drunken cheer?”
Gurth waxèd hot; fire in his eyes did glare,
And thus he said—“Oh! brother, friend, and king,
Have I deserved this fremed speech to hear?
By God's high halidome, ne thought the thing.
When Tostus sent me gold and silver store,
I scorned his present vile, and scorned his treason more.”
XVI
“Forgive me, Gurth,” the brave King Harold cried;“Whom can I trust, if brothers are not true?
Y-think of Tostus, once my joy and pride.”
Gurth said, with look adigne, “My lord, I do.
But what our foemen are,” quoth Gurth, “I'll shew.
By God's high halidome, they priestès are.”
“Do not,” quoth Harold, “Gurth, miscall them so,
For they are every one brave men at war.”
Quoth Gurth, “Why will ye then provoke their hate?”
Quoth Harold, “Great the foe, so is the glory great.”
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XVII
And now Duke William marëshall'd his band,And stretched his army out, a goodly row.
First did a rank of arcublastries stand,
Next those on horseback drew th'ascending flo;
Brave champions, each well learnèd in the bow,
Their asenglave across their horses tied;
Or with the loverds squire[s] behind did go,
Or waited, squire-like, at the horse's side.
When thus Duke William to a monk did say,
“Prepare thyself with speed, to Harold haste away.
XVIII
Tell him from me one of these three to take:That he to me do homage for this land,
Or me his heir, when he deceaseth, make,
Or to the judgment of Christ's vicar stand.”
He said; the monk departed out of hand,
And to King Harold did this message bear,
Who said, “Tell thou the duke, at his likand,
If he can get the crown, he may it wear.”
He said, and drove the monk out of his sight,
And with his brothers roused each man to bloody fight.
XIX
A standard made of silk and jewels rare,Wherein all colours, wrought about in bighes,
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Under this motto—“He conquers or he dies.”
This standard rich, endazzling mortal eyes,
Was borne near Harold at the Kenters' head,
Who charged his brothers for the great emprise,
That straight the hest for battle should be spread.
To every earl and knight the word is given,
And cries “a guerre!” and slogans shake the vaulted heaven.
XX
As when the earth, torn by convulsions dire,In realms of darkness hid from human sight;
The warring force of water, air, and fire,
Bursts from the regions of eternal night,
Through the dark caverns seeks the realms of light;
Some lofty mountain, by its fury torn,
Dreadfully moves, and causes great affright;
Now here, now there, majestic nods the bourne,
And awful shakes, moved by th'almighty force;
Whole woods and forests nod, and rivers change their course.
XXI
So did the men of war at once advance,Linked man to man, appeared one body light;
Above, a wood, y-formed of bill and lance,
That nodded in the air, most strange to sight;
Hard as the iron were the men of might,
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Each shooting spear made ready for the fight,
More fierce than falling rocks, more swift than wind;
With solemn step, by echo made more dire,
One single body all, they marched, their eyes on fire.
XXII
And now the grey-eyed morn with violets drest,Shaking the dewdrops on the flowery meads,
Fled with her rosy radiance to the west.
Forth from the eastern gate the fiery steeds
Of the bright sun awaiting spirits leads.
The sun, in fiery pomp enthroned on high,
Swifter than thought along his journey gledes,
And scatters night's remains from out the sky.
He saw the armies make for bloody fray,
And stopped his driving steeds, and hid his lightsome ray.
XXIII
King Harold high in air majestic raisedHis mighty arm, decked with a manchyn rare;
With even hand a mighty javelin peised,
Then furious sent it whistling through the air.
It struck the helmet of the Sieur de Beer.
In vain did brass or iron stop its way;
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Piercing quite through, before it did allay.
He tumbled, screeching with his horrid pain,
His hollow cuishes rang upon the bloody plain.
XXIV
This William saw, and, sounding Roland's song,He bent his iron interwoven bow,
Making both ends to meet with might full strong;
From out of mortal's sight shot up the flo.
Then, swift as falling stars to earth below,
It slanted down on Alfwold's painted shield,
Quite through the silver-bordured cross did go,
Nor lost its force, but stuck into the field;
The Normans, like their sovereign, did prepare,
And shot ten thousand floes uprising in the air.
XXV
As when a flight of cranes, that take their wayIn household armies through the archèd sky,
Alike the cause, or company or prey,
If that perchance some boggy fen is nigh,
Soon as the muddy nation they espy,
In one black cloud they to the earth descend;
Fierce as the falling thunderbolt they fly,
In vain do reeds the speckled folk defend;
So prone to heavy blow the arrows fell,
And pierced through brass, and sent many to heaven or hell.
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XXVI
Ælan Adelfred, of the stow of Leigh,Felt a dire arrow burning in his breast;
Before he died, he sent his spear away,
Then sank to glory and eternal rest.
Neville, a Norman of all Normans best,
Through the joint cuishè did the javelin feel,
As he on horseback for the fight addressed,
And saw his blood come smoking o'er the steel;
He sent th'avenging flo into the air,
And turned his horse's head, and did to leech repair.
XXVII
And now the javelins, barbed with deathès wings,Hurled from the English hands by force aderne,
Whizz drear along, and songs of terror sings,
Such songs as always closed in life eterne.
Hurled by such strength along the air they burn,
Not to be quenchèd but in Normans' blood.
Where'er they came, they were of life forlorn,
And always followed by a purple flood.
Like clouds the Norman arrows did descend,
Like clouds of carnage full, in purple drops did end.
XXVIII
Nor, Leöfwinus, didst thou still y-stand;Full soon thy pheon glittered in the air;
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Could hurl a javelin with such lethal geer.
It whizzed a ghastly din in Norman's ear,
Then, thundering, did upon his greave alight,
Pierce to his heart, and did his bowels tear;
He closed his eyes in everlasting night.
Ah! what availed the lions on his crest,
His hatchments rare with him upon the ground were prest.
XXIX
William again y-made his bow-ends meet,And high in air the arrow winged his way;
Descending like a shaft of thunder fleet,
Like thunder rattling at the noon of day,
On Algar's shield the arrow did assay,
There through did pierce, and stick into his groin;
In griping torments on the field he lay,
Till welcome death came in and closed his eyne.
Distort with pain he lay upon the borne,
Like sturdy elms by storms in uncouth writhings torn.
XXX
Alrick his brother, when he this perceived,He drew his sword, his left hand held a spear;
171
And to the God of heaven he sent a prayer,
Then sent his lethal javelin in the air;
On Hugh de Beaumont's back the javelin came,
Through his red armour to his heart it tare;
He fell, and thundered on the place of fame.
Next with his sword he 'sailed the Sieur de Roe,
And burst his silver helm, so furious was the blow.
XXXI
But William, who had seen his prowess great,And fearèd much how far his rage might go,
Took a strong arblaster, and, big with fate,
From twanging iron sent the fleeting flo.
As Alric hoists his arm for deadly blow,
Which, had it come, had been de Roeës last,
The swift-winged messenger from William's bow
Quite through his arm into his side y-past;
His eyes shot fire, like blazing star at night,
He gripped his sword, and fell upon the place of fight.
XXXII
Oh Alfwold, say, how shall I sing of thee,Or tell how many did beneath thee fall?
Not Harold's self more Norman knights did sle,
Not Harold's self did more for praises call.
How shall a pen like mine then shew it all?
Like thee, their leader, each Bristowan fought;
Like thee, their fame must be canonical;
For they, like thee, that day revenge y-wrought.
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Full half a score from thee received their fatal wound.
XXXIII
First Fitz-Chivelloys felt thy direful force;Naught did his held-out brazen shield avail;
Eftsoons through that thy driving spear did pierce,
Nor was it stoppèd by his coat of mail;
Into his breast it quickly did assail;
Out ran the blood, like hygra of the tide,
With purple stainèd all his aventayle.
In scarlet was his cuish of silver dyed.
Upon the bloody carnage-house he lay,
Whilst his long shield did gleam with the sun's rising ray.
XXXIV
Next Fescamp fell. Oh! Christ, how hard his fateTo die the lackedst knight of all the throng!
His sprite was made of malice deslavate,
Nor should it find a place in any song.
The pointed javelin, hurled from hand so strong
As thine, came thundering on his crested beave;
Ah! naught availed the brass or iron thong;
With mighty force his skull in two did cleave;
173
As withered oaks or elms are hewn from off the plain.
XXXV
Nor, Norcie, could thy might and skilful lorePreserve thee from the doom of Alfwold's spear;
Could'st thou not ken, most skilled astrologer,
How in the battle it would with thee fare?
When Alfwold's javelin, rattling in the air,
From hand divine on thy habergeon came,
Out at thy back it did thine heart's blood bear;
It gave thee death and everlasting fame.
Thy death could only come from Alfwold's arm,
As diamonds only can their fellow-diamonds harm.
XXXVI
Next Sieur du Moulin fell upon the ground,Quite through his throat the lethal javelin press'd,
His soul and blood came rushing from the wound;
He closed his eyes and oped them with the blest.
It cannot be that I should name the rest,
That by the mighty arm of Alfwold fell;
Past by a pen to be count or express'd,
How many Alfwold sent to heaven or hell.
As leaves from trees shook by derne Autumn's hand,
So lay the Normans slain by Alfwold on the strand.
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XXXVII
As when a drove of wolves with dreary yellsAssails some flock, nor cares if shepherd ken't,
And spread destruction o'er the woods and dells,
The shepherd swains in vain their loss lament;
So fought the Bristol men, nor one crevent,
Nor one abashed bethought him for to flee;
With fallen Normans all the plain besprent,
And, like their leaders, every man did sle.
In vain on every side the arrows fled,
The Bristol men still raged, for Alfwold was not dead.
XXXVIII
Many meanwhile by Harold's arm did fall,And Leöfwine and Gurth increased the slain;
'Twould take a Nestor's age to sing them all,
Or tell how many Normans press'd the plain.
But of the earls whom record hath not slain,
Oh Truth! for good of after-times relate,
That, though they're dead, their names may live again,
And be in death, as they in life were, great.
So after-ages may their actions see,
And, like to them, eternal alway strive to be.
XXXIX
Adhelm, a knight, whose holy deathless sireFor ever bended to St. Cuthbert's shrine,
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And e'en on earth he might be called divine;
To Cuthbert's church he did his goods resign,
And left his son his God's and fortune's knight.
His son the Saint beheld with look adigne,
Made him in council wise, and great in fight;
Saint Cuthbert did him aid in all his deeds,
His friends he lets to live, and all his foemen bleeds.
XL
He married was to Kenewalcha fair,The finest dame the sun or moon adave;
She was the mighty Aderedus' heir,
Who was already hasting to the grave;
As the blue Briton[s], rising from the wave,
Like sea-gods seem in most majestic guise,
And round about the rising waters lave,
And their long hair around their bodies flies;
Such majesty was in her port displayed,
To be excelled by none but Homer's martial maid.
XLI
White as the chalky cliffs of Britain's isle,Red as the highest-coloured Gallic wine,
Gay as all nature at the morning-smile,
Those hues with pleasaunce on her lips combine;
Her lips more red than summer-evening skyen.
Or Phœbus rising in a frosty morn;
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Or lily lambs that never have been shorn,
Swelling like bubbles in a boiling well,
Or new-burst brooklets gently whispering in the dell.
XLII
Brown as the filbert dropping from the shell,Brown as the nappy ale at Hocktide game,
So brown the crooked rings, that featly fell
Over the neck of this all-beauteous dame.
Grey as the morn before the ruddy flame
Of Phœbus chariot rolling through the sky;
Grey as the steel-horn'd goats Conyan made tame,
So grey appeared her featly sparkling eye;
Those eyes, that oft did mickle pleasèd look
On Adhelm, valiant man, the virtues' doomsday-book.
XLIII
Majestic as the grove of oaks that stoodBefore the abbey built by Oswald king;
Majestic as Hibernia's holy wood,
Where saints for souls departed masses sing;
Such awe from her sweet look forth issuing
At once for reverence and love did call;
Sweet as the voice of thrushes in the spring,
So sweet the words that from her lips did fall;
None fell in vain; all shewèd some intent;
Her wordès did display her great entendèment.
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XLIV
Taper as candles laid at Cuthbert's shrine,Taper as elms that Goodrick's abbey shrove,
Taper as silver chalices for wine,
So taper were her arms and shape y-grove.
As skilful miners by the stones above
Can ken what metal is contained below,
So Kenewalcha's face, y-made for love,
The lovely image of her soul did shew;
Thus was she outward formed; the sun, her mind,
Did gild her mortal shape, and all her charms refined.
XLV
What praisers then, what glory shall he claim,What doughty Homer shall his praises sing,
That left the bosom of so fair a dame
Uncalled, unasked, to serve his lord the king!
To his fair shrine good subjects ought to bring
The arms, the helmets, all the spoils of war,
Through every realm the poets blaze the thing,
And travelling merchants spread his name to far:
The stout Norwegians had his anlace felt,
And now among his foes death-doing blows he dealt.
XLVI
As when a wolf hath gotten in the meads,He rageth sore, and doth about him sle,
Now here a mastiff, there a lambkin bleeds,
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As when a river rolls impetuously,
And breaks the banks that would its force restrain,
Along the plain in foaming rings doth flee,
'Gainst walls and hedges doth its course maintain;
As when a man doth in a corn-field mow,
With ease at one fell stroke full many are laid low.
XLVII
So many, with such force, and with such easeDid Adhelm slaughter on the bloody plain;
Before him many did their heart's blood lese,
Ofttimes he fought on towers of smoking slain.
Angillian felt his force, nor felt in vain;
He cut him with his sword athwart the breast,
Out ran the blood and did his armour stain,
He closed his eyën in eternal rest,
Like a tall oak by tempest borne away,
Stretched in the arms of death upon the plain he lay.
XLVIII
Next through the air he sent his javelin fierceThat on De Clermond's buckler did alight,
Through the vast orb the pheon sharp did pierce,
Rang on his coat of mail and spent its might.
But soon another winged its airy flight,
The keen broad pheon to his lungs did go;
He fell, and groaned upon the place of fight,
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Like a tall pine upon his native plain,
So fell the mighty sire, and mingled with the slain.
XLIX
Hugh de Longeville, a mighty doutremere,Advancèd forward to provoke the dart,
When soon he found that Adhelm's pointed spear
Had found an easy passage to his heart;
He drew his bow, nor was of death astart,
Then fell down breathless to increase the corse.
But, as he drew his bow devoid of art,
So it came down upon Troyvillian's horse;
Deep through his hatchments went the pointed flo;
Now here, now there, with rage bleeding he round doth go;
L
Nor does he heed his master's known commands,Till, growèn furious by his bloody wound,
Erect upon his hinder feet he stands,
And throws his master far off to the ground.
Near Adhelm's feet the Norman lay astound,
Scattered his arrows, loosened was his shield;
Through his red armour, as he lay enswooned,
He pierced his sword, and out upon the field
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He oped, and closed his eyes in everlasting night.
LI
Caverd, a Scot, who for the Normans fought,A man well skilled in sword and sounding string,
Who fled his country for a crime enstrote,
For daring with bold word his lawful king;
He at Earl Adhelm with great force did fling
An heavy javelin, made for bloody wound;
Along his shield askance the same did ring,
Pierced through the corner, then stuck in the ground;
So when the thunder rattles in the sky,
Through some tall spire the shafts in a torn clevis fly.
LII
Then Adhelm hurled a crooked javelin strongWith might that none but such great champions know;
Swifter than thought the javelin passed along,
And hit the Scot most fiercely on the prow;
His helmet burst at such a thundering blow,
Into his brain the trembling javelin steck;
From either side the blood began to flow,
And run in circling ringlets round his neck;
Down fell the warrior on the lethal strand,
Like some tall vessel wrecked upon the tragic sand.
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LIII
Where fruitless heaths and meads are clad in grey,Save where sad hawthorns rear their humble head,
The hungry traveller upon his way
Sees a huge desert all around him spread,
The distant city scarcely to be sped,
The curling force of smoke he sees in vain,
'Tis too far distant, and his only bed,
Y-wimpled in his cloak, is on the plain,
Whilst rattling thunder rolls above his head,
And rains come down to wet his hard unwelcome bed;
LIV
A wondrous pile of rugged mountains stands,Placed on each other in a drear array,
It could not be the work of human hands,
It was not rearèd up by men of clay.
Here did the Britons adoration pay
To the false god whom they did Tauran name,
Dressing his altar with great fires in May,
Roasting their victual round about the flame,
'Twas here that Hengist did the Britons sle,
As they were met in council for to be.
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LV
Near, on a lofty hill, a city stands,That lifts its shafted head unto the skies,
And kingly looks around on lower lands,
And the long brown plain that before it lies.
Hereward, born of parents brave and wise,
Within this parish first a-drew the air,
A blessing to the earth sent from the skies;
In any kingdom could not find his peer.
Now, ribbed in steel, he rages in the fight,
And sweeps whole armies to the realms of night.
LVI
So when sad Autumn with his sallow handTears the green mantle from the lymed trees,
The leaves, besprinkled on the yellow strand,
Fly in whole armies from the blatant breeze;
All the whole field a carnage-house he sees,
And souls unknellèd hovered o'er the blood;
From place to place on either hand he slees,
And sweeps all near him like a raging flood;
Death hung upon his arm; he slew so maint,
'Tis past the pencil of a man to paint.
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LVII
Bright sun in haste hath driven his fiery wainA three-hours' course along the whited skyen,
Viewing the lifeless bodies on the plain,
And longèd greatly to plunge in the brine.
For as his beamès and far-stretching eyne
Did view the pools of gore in purple sheen,
The loathsome vapours round his locks did twine,
And did disfigure all his seemlikeen;
Then to hard action he his wain did rouse,
In hissing ocean to make clear his brows.
LVIII
Duke William gave command, each Norman knightThat bare war-token in a shield so fine,
Should onward go, and dare to closer fight
The Saxon warrior, that did so entwine,
Like the nesh bryon and the eglantine,
Or Cornish wrestlers at a Hocktide game.
The Normans, all enmarshalled in a line,
To th'ourt array of the tight Saxons came.
There 'twas th'astonished Normans, on a par,
Did know that Saxons were the sons of war.
LIX
Oh Turgot! wheresoe'er thy sprite doth haunt,Whether with thy loved Adhelm by thy side,
184
Or with some mocking brooklet sweetly glide,
Or rolling fiercely with fierce Severn's tide,
Where'er thou art, come and my mind enleme
With such great thoughts as did with thee abide,
Thou sun, of whom I oft have caught a beam,
Send me again a driblet of thy light,
That I the deeds of Englishmen may write.
LX
Harold, who saw the Normans to advance,Seized a huge bill, and laid him down his spear,
So did each wight lay down the pointed lance,
And groves of bills did glitter in the air;
With shouts the Normans did to battle steer.
Campynon, famous for his stature high,
Fiery with brass, beneath a shirt of lere,
In cloudy day he reached into the sky;
Near to king Harold did he come along,
And drew his steel Morglaien sword so strong.
LXI
Thrice round his head he swung his anlace wide,On which the sunnès visage did engleam,
Then, straining as his members would divide,
He struck on Harold's shield in manner breme;
Along the field it made a horrid cleembe,
185
Then in the blood the fiery sword did steam,
And then did drive into the bloody plain.
So when in air the vapours do abound,
Some thunderbolt tears trees, and drives into the ground.
LXII
Harold upreared his bill, and furious sentA stroke, like thunder, at the Norman's side,
Upon the plain the broken brass besprent
Did not his body from death-doing hide;
He turnèd back and did not there abide;
With stretched out shield he áyenward did go,
Threw down the Normans, did their ranks divide,
To save himself, left them unto the foe.
So elephants, in kingdom of the sun,
When once provoked, do through their own troops run.
LXIII
Harold, who knew he was his army's stay,(Needing the rede of general so wise),
Bid Alfwold to Campynon haste away;
As through the army áyenward he hies,
Swift as a feathered arrow Alfwold flies,
The steel bill blushing o'er with lukewarm blood.
Ten Kenters, ten Bristowans for th'emprise
Hasted with Alfwold where Campynon stood,
Who ayneward went, whilst every Norman knight
Did blush to see their champion put to flight.
186
LXIV
As painted Briton, when a wolfyn wild,When it is chill and blustering winds do blow,
Enters his bordel, taketh his young child,
And with his blood bedyes the lily snow,
He thórough mountain high and dale doth go,
Through the quick torrent of the swollen ave,
Through Severn rolling o'er the sands below
He skims aloft, and blents the beating wave,
Nor stints, nor lags the chase, till 'fore his eyne
In pieces he the murdering thief doth chine.
LXV
So Alfwold, he did to Campynon haste;His bloody bill dismayed the Norman's eyne;
He fled, as wolves when by the mastiffs chaced,
To bloody bicker did he not incline.
Duke William struck him on his brigandine,
And said—“Campynon, is it thee I see?
Thee? who didst acts of glory so bewryen,
Now poorly come to hide thyself by me?
Away! thou dog, and act a warrior's part,
Or with my sword I'll pierce thee to the heart!”
187
LXVI
Between Earl Alfwold and Duke William's brondCampynon thought that naught but death could be,
Seized a huge sword Morglaiën in his honde,
Muttering a prayër to the Virginè.
So hunted deer the driving hounds will sle,
When they discover they cannot escape;
And fearful lambkins, when they hunted be,
Their infant hunters do they oft awhape.
Thus stood Campynon, great but heartless knight,
When fear of death made him for death to fight.
LXVII
Alfwold began to dight himself for fight.Meanwhile his men on every side did sle;
When on his lifted shield with all his might
Campynon's sword in burley-brond did dree.
Amazèd Alfwold fell upon his knee;
His Bristol men came in him for to save;
Eftsoons upgotten from the ground was he,
And did again the towering Norman brave.
He grasped his bill in such a drear array,
He seemed a lion catching at his prey.
LXVIII
Upon the Norman's brazen aventailThe thundering bill of mighty Alfwold came;
188
From rattling weapons shot a sparkling flame.
Eftsoons again the thundering bill y-came,
Pierced through his aventail and skirts of lare;
A tide of purple gore came with the same,
As out his bowels on the field it tare.
Campynon fell, as when some city-wall
In doleful terrors on its miners fall.
LXIX
He fell, and did the Norman ranks divide;So when an oak, that shot into the sky,
Feels the broad axes piercing his broad side,
Slowly he falls and on the ground doth lie,
Pressing all down that is with him anigh,
And stopping weary travellers on the way;
So stretched upon the plain the Norman high,
[Far-spreading like a mighty ruin, lay,]
Bled, groaned, and died; the Norman knights astound
To see the bawsin champion pressed upon the ground.
LXX
As when the hygra of the Severn roars,And thunders ugsom on the sands below,
189
And sweeps the black sand round its hoary brow;
So furious Alfwold through the war did go.
His Kenters and Bristowans slew each side,
Besprinkled all along with bloodless foe,
And seemed to swim along with bloody tide.
From place to place, besmeared with blood, they went,
And round about them swarthless corse besprent.
LXXI
A famous Norman, who was named Aubene,Of skill in bow, in tilt, and handsword fight,
That day in field hath many Saxons slain,
For he, in soothen, was a man of might.
First did his sword on Adelgar alight,
As he on horseback was, and pierced his groin,
Then upward went; in everlasting night
He closed his rolling and dimsighted eyne.
Next Eadlyn, Tatwyn, and famed Adelred,
By various causes sunken to the dead.
LXXII
But now to Alfwold he opposing went,To whom compared, he was a man of stre,
And with both hands a mighty blow he sent
At Alfwold's head, as hard as he could dree;
But on his painted shield so bismarly
190
Then Alfwold him attacked most furiously,
And through his gaberdine he did him wound;
Then soon again his sword he did upryne,
And clove his crest, and split him to the eyne.
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