EDITH. --chosen by his people And fighting for his people!
STIGAND. There is one Come as Goliath came of yore--he flings His brand in air and catches it again, He is chanting some old warsong.
EDITH. And no David To meet him?
STIGAND. Ay, there springs a Saxon on him, Falls--and another falls.
EDITH. Have mercy on us!
STIGAND. Lo! our good Gurth hath smitten him to the death.
EDITH. So perish all the enemies of Harold!
CANONS (_singing_).
Hostis in Angliam Ruit praedator, Illorum, Domine, Scutum scindatur!
Hostis per Angliae Plagas bacchatur; Casa crematur, Pastor fugatur Grex trucidatur--
STIGAND. Illos trucida, Domine.
EDITH. Ay, good father.
CANONS (_singing_).
Illorum scelera Poena sequatur!
ENGLISH CRIES. Harold and Holy Cross! Out! out!
STIGAND. Our javelins Answer their arrows. All the Norman foot Are storming up the hill. The range of knights Sit, each a statue on his horse, and wait.
ENGLISH CRIES. Harold and God Almighty!
NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou! Ha Rou!
CANONS (_singing_).
Eques cum pedite Praepediatur!
Illorum in lacrymas Cruor fundatur!
Pereant, pereant, Anglia precatur.
STIGAND. Look, daughter, look.
EDITH. Nay, father, look for me!
STIGAND. Our axes lighten with a single flash About the summit of the hill, and heads And arms are sliver'd off and splinter'd by Their lightning--and they fly--the Norman flies.
EDITH. Stigand, O father, have we won the day?
STIGAND. No, daughter, no--they fall behind the horse-- Their horse are thronging to the barricades; I see the gonfanon of Holy Peter Floating above their helmets--ha! he is down!
EDITH. He down! Who down?
STIGAND. The Norman Count is down.
EDITH. So perish all the enemies of England!
STIGAND. No, no, he hath risen again--he bares his face-- Shouts something--he points onward--all their horse Swallow the hill locust-like, swarming up.
EDITH. O God of battles, make his battle-axe keen As thine own sharp-dividing justice, heavy As thine own bolts that fall on crimeful heads Charged with the weight of heaven wherefrom they fall!
CANONS (_singing_).
Jacta tonitrua Deus bellator!
Surgas e tenebris, Sis vindicator!
Fulmina, fulmina Deus vastator!
EDITH. O God of battles, they are three to one, Make thou one man as three to roll them down!
CANONS (_singing_).
Equus cum equite Dejiciatur!
Acies, Acies Prona sternatur!
Illorum lanceas Frange Creator!
STIGAND. Yea, yea, for how their lances snap and shiver Against the shifting blaze of Harold's axe!
War-woodman of old Woden, how he fells The mortal copse of faces! There! And there!
The horse and horseman cannot meet the shield, The blow that brains the horseman cleaves the horse, The horse and horseman roll along the hill, They fly once more, they fly, the Norman flies!
Equus cum equite Praecipitatur.
EDITH. O God, the God of truth hath heard my cry.
Follow them, follow them, drive them to the sea!
Illorum scelera Poena sequatur!
STIGAND. Truth! no; a lie; a trick, a Norman trick!
They turn on the pursuer, horse against foot, They murder all that follow.
EDITH. Have mercy on us!
STIGAND. Hot-headed fools--to burst the wall of shields!
They have broken the commandment of the king!
EDITH. His oath was broken--O holy Norman Saints, Ye that are now of heaven, and see beyond Your Norman shrines, pardon it, pardon it, That he forsware himself for all he loved, Me, me and all! Look out upon the battle!
STIGAND. They thunder again upon the barricades.
My sight is eagle, but the strife so thick-- This is the hottest of it: hold, ash! hold, willow!
ENGLISH CRIES. Out, out!