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Edith. Thy death ! — to-day ! | The king's foundation, that have follow'd Is it not thy birthday ?

him. Harold. Ay, that happy day! Edith. O God of battles, make their A birthday welcome ! happy days and wall of shields many !

Firm as thy cliffs, strengthen their pali. One -- this!

[ They embrace. sades ! Look, I will bear thy blessing into the What is that whirring sound ? battle


The Norman arrow ! And front the doom of God.

Edith. Look out upon the battle -- is Norman Cries (heard in the distance). he safe? Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

Stigand. The king of England stands

between his banners. Enter GURTH.

He glitters on the crowning of the Gurth, The Norman moves !

hill. Harold. Harold and Holy Cross ! God save King Harold !

[Exeunt Harold and Gurth. Edith. chosen by his people,

And fighting for his people!

There is one Stigand. Our Church in arms – the Come as Goliath came of yore he flings lamb the lion not

His brand in air and catches it again ; Spear into pruning-hook the counter He is chanting some old war-song, way


And no David Cowl, helm; and crozier, battle-axe. To meet him ? Abbot Alfwig,

Stigand. Ay, there springs a Saxon Leofric, and all the monks of Peter

on him, boro'

Falls and another falls. Strike for the king ; but I, old wretch, Edith,

Have mercy on us ! old Stigand,

Stigand. Lo ! our good Gurth hath With hands too limp to brandish iron

smitten him to the death.

Edith. So perish all the enemies of I have a power would Harold ask me

Harold! for it

Canons (singing). I have a power.

Hostis in Angliam Edith. What power, holy father ?

Ruit prædator, Stigand. Power now from Harold to

Illorum, domine,

Scutum scindatur! command thee hence

Hostis per Angliæ And see thee safe from Senlac.

Plagas bacchatur; Edith.

I remain !

Casa crematur, Stigand. Yea, so will I, daughter,

Pastor fugatur

Grex trucidaturuntil I find Which way the battle balance. I can Stigand. Illos, trucida, Domine.


Ay, good father. From where we stand : and, live or die, Canons (singing). I would

Illorum scelera I were among them !

Pena sequatur !
Canons from Waltham (singing without). English Cries. Harold and Holy Cross !
Salva patriam

Out! out!
Sancto Pater,
Salva Fili,

Stigand. Our javelins
Salva Spiritus,

Answer their arrows. All the Norman
Salva patriam,

foot Sancta Mater.

Are storming up the hill. The range Edith. Are those the blessed angels of knights quiring, father?

Sit, each a statue on his horse, and Stigand. No, daughter, but the canons wait. out of Waltham,

English Cries. Harold and God Al. The a throughout these hymns should be

mighty! sounded broad, as in “father.

Norman Cries. Ha Rou! Ha Ron !

and yet

see it


gle flash


they fall

Canons (singing).

Acies, Acies

Prona sternatur !
Eques cum pedite

Illorum lanceas
Illorum in lacrymas

Frange Creator !
Cruor fundatur !

Stigand. Yea, yea, for how their lances
Pereant, pereant,
Anglia precatur.

snap and shiver

Against the shifting blaze of Harold's Stigand. Look, daughter, look. Edith. Nay, father, look for mel War-woodman of old Woden, how he Sligand. Our axes lighten with a sin.


The mortal copse of faces! There ! About the summit of the hill, and

And there! heads

The horse and horseman cannot meet the And arms are sliver'd off and splinter'd shield. by

The blow that brains the horseman cleaves Their lightning - and they fly — the

the horse, Norman flies.

The horse and horseman roll along the Edith. Stigand, O father, have we won the day?

They fly once more, they fly, the Nor. Stigand. No, daughter, no

man flies! behind the horse Their horses are thronging to the barri.

Equus cum equite cades;

Præcipitatur. I see the gonfalon of Holy Peter

Edith. O God, the God of truth hath Floating above their helmets — ha! he

heard my cry. is down!

Follow them, follow them, drive them to Edith. He down! Who down?

the sea ! Stigand. The Norman Count is down.

Illorum scelera
Edith. So perish all the enemies of

Pæna sequatur !
England !

Stigand. Truth ! no; a lie ; a trick, Stigand. No, no, he hath risen again

a Norman trick ! he bares his face

They turn on the pursuer, horse against Shouts something – he points onward

all their horse
Swallow the hill locust-like, swarming

They murder all that follow.

Have mercy on us! up.

Stigand. Hot-headed fools — to burst Edith. O God of battles, make his

the wall of shields ! battle-axe keen

They have broken the commandment of As thine own sharp-dividing justice, the king! heavy

Edith. His oath was broken — O holy As thine own bolts that fall on crimeful

Norman Saints, heads

Ye that are now of heaven, and see beCharged with the weight of heaven

yond wherefrom they fall !

Your Norman shrines, pardon it, parCanons (singing).

don it,
Jacta tonitrua

That he forsware himself for all he
Deus bellator!
Surgas e tenebris,

Sis vindicator!

Me, me and all ! Look out upon the Fulmina, fulmina

battle! Deus vastator!

Stigand. They press again upon the Edith. O God of battles, they are

barricades. three to one,

My sight is eagle, but the strife so Make thou one man as three to roll thickthem down !

This is the hottest of it: hold, ash! hold, Canons (singing).

willow !

English Cries. Out, out!
Equus cum equite
Dejiciatur !

Norman Cries.

Ha Rou!

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Stigand. Ha ! Gurth hath leapt upon | They are so much holier than their har. him

lot's son And slain him : he hath fallen.

With whom they play'd their game Edith.

And I am heard. against the king! Glory to God in the Highest ! fallen, Aldwyth. The king is slain, the king. fallen!

dom overthrown ! Stigand. No, no, his horse – he Edith. No matter ! mounts another — wields

Aldwyth. How no matter, Harold His war-club, dashes it on Gurth, and slain ? Gurth,

I cannot find his body. O help me Our noble Gurth, is down !

thou ! Edith.

Have mercy on us ! 0 Edith, if I ever wrought against Stigand. And Leofwin is down !

thee, Edith.

Have mercy on us ! Forgive me thou, and help me here ! O Thou that knowest, let not my strong


No matter ! prayer

Aldwyth. Not help me, nor forgive Be weaken'd in thy sight, because I love

me ? The husband of another !

Edith. So thou saidest. Norman Cries. Ha Rou! Ha Rou ! Aldwyth. I say

it now, forgive me ! Edith. I do not hear our English war


Cross me not ! cry.

I am seeking one who wedded me in Stigand. No.

secret. Edith. Look out upon the battle — is Whisper ! God's angels only know it. he safe ?

Ha! Stigand. He stands between the ban- What art thou doing here among the ners with the dead

dead ? So piled about him he can hardly They are stripping the dead bodies naked move.

yonder, Edith (takes up the war-cry). Out! And thou art come to rob them of their out !

rings ! Norman Cries. Ha Rou!

Aldwyth. O Edith, Edith, I have lost Edith (cries out). Harold and Holy

both crown
Cross !

And husband.
Norman Cries. Ha Rou ! Ha Rou! Edith, So have I.
Edith. What is that whirring sound ? Aldwyth.

I tell thee, girl, Stigand. The Norman sends his ar. I am seeking my dead Harold. rows up to Heaven,


And I mine! They fall on those within the palisade ! | The Holy Father strangled him with a Edith. Look out upon the hill — is

hair Harold there?

Of Peter, and his brother Tostig helpt ; Stigand. Sanguelac Sanguelac The wicked sister clapt her hands and the arrow the arrow ! – away !


Then all the dead fell on him. SCENE II. – FIELD OF THE DEAD. Aldwyth.

Edith, Edith NIGHT.

Edith. What was he like, this hus. ALDWYTH and EDITH.

band ? like to thee ?

Call not for help from me. I knew him Aldwyth. O Edith, art thou here? O

not. Harold, Harold

He lies not here : not close beside the Our Harold we shall never see him

standard. more.

Here fell the truest, manliest hearts of Edith. For there was more than sister England. in my kiss,

Go further hence and find him. And so the saints were wroth. I cannot Aldwyth.

She is crazed ! love them,

Edith. That doth not matter either. For they are Norman saints — and yet Lower the light. I should

He must be here.



Enter two Canons, Osgod and ATHELRIC, | I am too wise ... Will none among you

with torches. They turn over the dead all bodies and examine them as they pass. Bear me true witness — only for this Osgod. I think that this is Thurkill. Athelric. More likely Godric. That I have found it here again? Osgod. I am sure this body

[She puts it on. Is Alfwig, the king's uncle.

And thou Athelric.

So it is ! | Thy wife am I for ever and evermore. No, no — brave Gurth, one gash from

(Falls on the body and dies. brow to knee !

William. Death ! - and enough of Osgod. And here is Leofwin.

death for this one day, Edith.

And here is He! The day of St. Calixtus, and the day, Aldwyth. Harold ? Oh no — nay, if My day, when I was born. it were — my God,


And this dead king's, They have so maim'd and martyr'd all Who, king or not, hath kinglike fought his face

and fallen, There is no man can swear to him. His birthday, too. It seems but yesterEdith.

But one woman ! Look you, we never mean to part again. I held it with him in his English halls, I have found him, I am happy.

His day, with all his rooftree ringing Was there not some one ask'd me for

Harold, forgiveness?

Before he fell into the snare of Guy; I yield it freely, being the true wife When all men counted Harold would Of this dead King, who never bore re

be king, venge.

And Harold was most happy.

William, Thou art half English. Enter COUNT WILLIAM and WILLIAM MALET.

Take them away!

Malet, I vow to build a church to God William. Who be these women ?

Here on this hill of battle ; let our high And what body is this?

altar Edith. Harold, thy better !

Stand where their standard fell... William. Ay, and what art thou ?

where these two lie. Edith. His wife ! Malet. Not true, my girl, here is the Take them away, I do not love to see

them. Queen ! [Pointing out ALDWYTH. William (to ALDWYTH). Wast thou Pluck the dead woman off the dead man,

Malet ! his Queen ?

Malet. Faster than ivy. Must I hack Aldwyth. I was the Queen of Wales. William. Why then of England. How shall I part them ?

her arms off ? Madam, fear us not.

William. Leave them. Let them (TO MALET.)

be ! Knowest thou this other ? Malet. When I visited England, He that was false in oath to me, it seems

Bury him and his paramour together. Some held she was his wife in secret

Was false to his own wife. We will Well some believed she was his

not give him paraA Christian burial : yet he was a war

rior, Edith. Norman, thou liest ! liars all

And wise, yea truthful, till that Your Saints and all! I am his wife !

blighted vow

Which God avenged to-day. and she For look, our marriage ring!

Wrap them together in a purple cloak [She draws it off the finger of Harold. And lay them both upon the waste seaI lost it somehow

shore I lost it, playing with it when I was

At Hastings, there to guard the land for

which wild. That bred the doubt : but I am wiser He did forswear himself -- a warrior




of you,


with me

And but that Holy Peter fought for us, My Normans may but move as true And that the false Northumbrian held aloof,

To the door of death. Of one self-stock And save for that chance arrow which

at first, the Saints

Make them again one people - Norman, Sharpen'd and sent against him who English ; can tell ?

And English, Norman ;-we should have Three horses had I slain beneath me:

a hand twice

To grasp the world with, and a foot to I thought that all was lost. Since I stamp it ... knew battle,

Flat. Praise the Saints. It is over. No And that was from my boyhood, never

more blood ! yet

I am King of England, so they thwart No, by the splendor of God – have I me not, fought men

And I will rule according to their laws. Like Harold and his brethren, and his

(TO ALDWYTH.) guard

Madam, we will entreat thee with all Of English. Every man about his king honor. Fell where he stood. They loved him : Aldwyth. My punishment is more and, pray God

than I can bear.

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