Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World By G. W. Thornbury |
 |
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| II. |
KING EDMUND. |
 | Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World |  |
KING EDMUND.
[_]
[This Saxon king was stabbed by a robber, whom he attempted to turn out of his palace hall, at a banquet, where the daring villain had bearded his monarch.]
The torch's flame and the broad hearth's blaze,
Gleam bright on cup and bowl;
The pride of a crowned conqueror,
Filled the Saxon monarch's soul.
Gleam bright on cup and bowl;
The pride of a crowned conqueror,
Filled the Saxon monarch's soul.
And the crimson banner shed a glare,
Not upon spear and sword;
But on the noisy revellers,
Seated around the board.
Not upon spear and sword;
But on the noisy revellers,
Seated around the board.
“Waes hael to the great King Edward,
Hail to that flag of thine;
Which struck a fear to the burghers five,
To the men of the Mercian Tyne.
Hail to that flag of thine;
Which struck a fear to the burghers five,
To the men of the Mercian Tyne.
“Waes hael to the king whose fetters,
Bind round the Danish thane;
Instead of the golden bracelet,
Let them wear the iron chain.
Bind round the Danish thane;
Instead of the golden bracelet,
Let them wear the iron chain.
125
“Waes hael to the blood red banner,
That waved on the old gray wall;
Hail to the sword that made the Dane,
Before the rood cross fall.”
That waved on the old gray wall;
Hail to the sword that made the Dane,
Before the rood cross fall.”
The seven chiefs of England,
Do homage to their lord;
The seven chiefs of England,
Are sitting round his board.
Do homage to their lord;
The seven chiefs of England,
Are sitting round his board.
“Give God the praise who smote the foe,”
Thus an abbot chode his pride:
“'Twas no mass of thine that shook their ranks,”
The angry monarch cried.
Thus an abbot chode his pride:
“'Twas no mass of thine that shook their ranks,”
The angry monarch cried.
“Go, scourge him from our presence—
'Tis these, and such as these,
Who beard their king, and 'fore his throne,
Refuse to bend their knees.”
'Tis these, and such as these,
Who beard their king, and 'fore his throne,
Refuse to bend their knees.”
“Proud king, thy heart is evil,
The God thou hast defied;
The God who smites the tyrant,
Rebuke thee for thy pride.
The God thou hast defied;
The God who smites the tyrant,
Rebuke thee for thy pride.
“A holy hymn was the battle cry,
Struck terror to the Dane;
St. Cuthbert's Cross was thy standard,
On Mercia's battle plain.
Struck terror to the Dane;
St. Cuthbert's Cross was thy standard,
On Mercia's battle plain.
“'Twas the breath of prayer that winged the shaft,
That smote the rebel crew;
An angel form led on the van,
When the battle trumpet blew.
That smote the rebel crew;
An angel form led on the van,
When the battle trumpet blew.
“God's servant thou hast scorned,
His vengeance thou shalt see;
On the brow that bears the Saviour's cross,
Is the brand of infamy.”
His vengeance thou shalt see;
On the brow that bears the Saviour's cross,
Is the brand of infamy.”
126
Loud through the palace portal,
Come the deep groans within;
It rose above the song and shout,
And all the stormy din.
Come the deep groans within;
It rose above the song and shout,
And all the stormy din.
“'Tis but the monk,” the monarch said,
“With biting cords he's bound;
Stripes are the fat monk's penance,
With stripes we lash the hound.”
“With biting cords he's bound;
Stripes are the fat monk's penance,
With stripes we lash the hound.”
Whose was that laugh which rings so fierce,
Like a fiend that mocking laughs;
With eyes like a wild beast glaring,
A cup the stranger quaffs.
Like a fiend that mocking laughs;
With eyes like a wild beast glaring,
A cup the stranger quaffs.
But while he drains the flagon,
He gazes on the king;
And his restless eyes are like a snake's,
Before it makes its spring.
He gazes on the king;
And his restless eyes are like a snake's,
Before it makes its spring.
A thousand angry passions
In that dark face have reign;
His hair is black and matted,
Like a wild creature's mane.
In that dark face have reign;
His hair is black and matted,
Like a wild creature's mane.
With a bound the Saxon monarch,
Leapt fierce upon his prey;
“Shall a man whose hands are bloody,
Be seen in the light of day?”
Leapt fierce upon his prey;
“Shall a man whose hands are bloody,
Be seen in the light of day?”
With gnashing teeth they grapple,
They struggle with the sword;
Ere those savage men are parted,
Slain is the Saxon lord.
They struggle with the sword;
Ere those savage men are parted,
Slain is the Saxon lord.
One look of rage the robber cast,
Upon the fallen chief;
Then sheathed his knife and went to death,
Without one thought of grief.
Upon the fallen chief;
Then sheathed his knife and went to death,
Without one thought of grief.
| Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World | |