The Visions of England | Page 5

comprised Eastern Yorkshire from Tees to Humber. Goodmanham, where the meeting described was held, is some 23 miles from York.
ALFRED THE GREAT
849-901
1
The fair-hair'd boy is at his mother's knee,
A many-colour'd page before them spread,?Gay summer harvest-field of gold and red,?With lines and staves of ancient minstrelsy.?But through her eyes alone the child can see,
From her sweet lips partake the words of song,?And looks as one who feels a hidden wrong,?Or gazes on some feat of gramarye.?'When thou canst use it, thine the book!' she cried:?He blush'd, and clasp'd it to his breast with pride:--
'Unkingly task!' his comrades cry; In vain;?All work ennobles nobleness, all art,?He sees; Head governs hand; and in his heart
All knowledge for his province he has ta'en.
2
Few the bright days, and brief the fruitful rest,
As summer-clouds that o'er the valley flit:--?To other tasks his genius he must fit;?The Dane is in the land, uneasy guest!?--O sacred Athelney, from pagan quest
Secure, sole haven for the faithful boy?Waiting God's issue with heroic joy?And unrelaxing purpose in the breast!?The Dragon and the Raven, inch by inch,?For England fight; nor Dane nor Saxon flinch;
Then Alfred strikes his blow; the realm is free:--?He, changing at the font his foe to friend,?Yields for the time, to gain the far-off end,
By moderation doubling victory.
O much-vex'd life, for us too short, too dear!
The laggard body lame behind the soul;?Pain, that ne'er marr'd the mind's serene control;?Breathing on earth heaven's aether atmosphere,?God with thee, and the love that casts out fear!
A soul in life's salt ocean guarding sure?The freshness of youth's fountain sweet and pure,?And to all natural impulse crystal-clear:?To service or command, to low and high?Equal at once in magnanimity,
The Great by right divine thou only art!?Fair star, that crowns the front of England's morn,?Royal with Nature's royalty inborn,
And English to the very heart of heart!
The fair-hair'd boy: There is a singular unanimity among historians in regard to this 'darling of the English,' whose life has been vividly sketched by Freeman (Conquest, ch. ii); by Green (English People, B. I: ch. iii); and, earlier, by my Father in his short _History of the Anglo-Saxons_, ch. vi-viii.
Changing at the font: Alfred was godfather to Guthrun the Dane, when baptized after his defeat at Ethandune in 878.
A DANISH BARROW
ON THE EAST DEVON COAST
Lie still, old Dane, below thy heap!
--A sturdy-back and sturdy-limb,?Whoe'er he was, I warrant him?Upon whose mound the single sheep
Browses and tinkles in the sun,?Within the narrow vale alone.
Lie still, old Dane! This restful scene
Suits well thy centuries of sleep:?The soft brown roots above thee creep,?The lotus flaunts his ruddy sheen,
And,--vain memento of the spot,--?The turquoise-eyed forget-me-not.
Lie still!--Thy mother-land herself
Would know thee not again: no more?The Raven from the northern shore?Hails the bold crew to push for pelf,
Through fire and blood and slaughter'd kings,?'Neath the black terror of his wings.
And thou,--thy very name is lost!
The peasant only knows that here?Bold Alfred scoop'd thy flinty bier,?And pray'd a foeman's prayer, and tost
His auburn, head, and said 'One more?Of England's foes guards England's shore,'
And turn'd and pass'd to other feats,
And left thee in thine iron robe,?To circle with the circling globe,?While Time's corrosive dewdrop eats
The giant warrior to a crust?Of earth in earth, and rust in rust.
So lie: and let the children play
And sit like flowers upon thy grave,?And crown with flowers,--that hardly have?A briefer blooming-tide than they;--
By hurrying years borne on to rest,?As thou, within the Mother's breast.
HASTINGS
October 14: 1066
'Gyrth, is it dawn in the sky that I see? or is all the sky blood? Heavy and sore was the fight in the North: yet we fought for the good. O but--Brother 'gainst brother!--'twas hard!--Now I come with a will To baste the false bastard of France, the hide of the tanyard and mill!
Now on the razor-edge lies?England the priceless, the prize!?God aiding, the Raven at Stamford we smote;?One stroke more for the land here I strike and devote!'
Red with fresh breath on her lips came the dawn; and Harold uprose; Kneels as man before God; then takes his long pole-axe, and goes Where round their woven wall, tough ash-palisado, they crowd; Mightily cleaves and binds, to his comrades crying aloud
'Englishmen stalwart and true,?But one word has Harold for you!?When from the field the false foreigners run,?Stand firm in your castle, and all will be won!
'Now, with God o'er us, and Holy Rood, arm!'--And he ran for his spear: But Gyrth held him back, 'mong his brothers Gyrth the most honour'd, most dear:?'Go not, Harold! thine oath is against thee! the Saints look askance: I am not king; let me lead them, me only: mine be the chance!'
--'No! The leader must lead!?Better that Harold should bleed!?To the souls I appeal, not the dust of the tomb:--?King chosen of Edward and England, I come!'
Over Heathland surge banners and lances, three armies; William the last, Clenching his mace;