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!