Warmen unfearing,

Alfere and Maccus,-
High-mettled twain.

Theirs not to flinch nor flee:
Fast at the ford they stood,
Beating the foemen back,

Till they no longer might.
Brandish their weapons.

VIII.

Bitter the work that the bridge-warders wrought for

them :

Sorely it irk'd them, the strangers, the hated ones : Crafty they craved to cross over and close with them. Yielded the headstrong Earl in his hardihood, Brihthelm's bairn, o'er the water calling:

Hearken'd the warmen.

IX.

"Lo! we give ground to you:
Come o'er and fight with us.

God wotteth which shall stand
Last in the slaughter-place."

X.

Waded the slaughter-wolves;

Reck'd not for water they :

Host of the wikings.

West over Panta's stream

Bearing their linden shields

Came they to land.

XI.

Then men closed in the glory of battle-strokes :
Then was the hour for the falling of fated ones:
Shouts from the earth arose :

Ravens wheel'd round above,

Eagles for feasting fain,
Greedy for corpses.

Fast from their hands flew the

File-harden'd spears, and the
Stone-whetted javelins :

Bows were busy, and shields were dinted,
Bitter the battle-rush,

Warriors fell:

Youths lay dead on the earth around.

XII.

Then drew nigh in his fierceness the fell one, Fenced with his shield and his weapons upheaving,

Facing the hero.

Drew to the meeting
Earl against Churl:

Either for other

Evil was thinking.

There flew a dart then

Shot from the seamen's side;

Therewith was wounded

The lord of warriors.

Then with shield thrusting
Knapp'd he the spear-shaft-

Wroth was the hero :
He with his javelin

Pierced the proud wiking,

Wounding his wounder.

Blithe was the Earl, and he laugh'd in his lustihood; Own'd the good day's work his Maker had given him ; Praised and gave thanks to the Lord who had prosper'd him.

XIII.

Hurl'd then some fellow a
Dart from his hands at him:
Forth it flew piercing him,
Pierced thro' the noble one,

Athelred's Thane.

Hard by his side stood

A stripling, a boy-knight,

Deftly he drew out

The dart with the blood on it,—

Bairn of the bridge-warder,

Wulfstan's young Wulfmaer.

XIV.

Soft one stole to the spoil of the wounded:
Lusted his heart for the filching of bracelets,
The robe, and the rings, and the jewell'd brand.

Out drew Brihtnoth

His sword from the sword-case:

Broad and brown was the blade, and he bang'd it
Full on the corselet.

Swift came a back-stroke
Struck by a fleet-man,
Quelling the Earl's arm.
Out of his hands fell the
Sword with the fallow hilt;
Might he no longer hold
Falchion, or wield again
Weapons of warfare.

XV.

Spake he a word yet,-
Hoar-headed hero,-

Cheering his comrades,
Bidding his brave youths
Fight and go forward.
Might he not long now
Fast on his feet stand.

Look'd he to heaven :-
"Thanks be to thee, Lord,
Wielder of nations;

Thank Thee for all the good
I in this world have known!
Now, O my Maker mild,

Need have I most that Thou

Good to my ghost shouldst grant,
E'en that my soul may pass
Safe to the Angels' land,
Where Thou art King and Lord,
In good peace journeying.

Yea, God, that never
Hell-fiends may hurt it,

Hear now my prayer!"

XVI.

Then the heathen soldiers hew'd him;
Hew'd the twain who stood to aid him.
There on the earth they lay

Fast by their chieftain,—
Alfnoth and Wulfmaer;

Sold they their lives.

A. C. AUCHMUTY (from the Old English).

III.

HAROLD AND STAMFORD-BRIDGE.

Address of Harold at a Banquet after the Battle. EARLS, Thanes, and all our countrymen! the day, Our day beside the Derwent will not shine Less than a star among the goldenest hours