THE FINDING OF HAROLD'S

DEAD BODY.

The scene of the following Poem is the field of Hastings: the time-evening, and part of the night immediately after the termination of the battle. It will be remembered that Harold was slain by a Norman archer, whose arrow penetrated the king's eye, and decided the fate of the conflict just as the day was closing.

"The Waltham Abbey M. S." (which was written about a century after the Norman invasion,) "describes the circumstances attending the search for Harold very interestingly. Two Monks, who had watched the battle at a distance, afterwards went to William, and earnestly begged permission to take away Harold's body. On his assent they presented him with ten marcs of gold, as a tribute of their gratitude, and proceeded to the field of the dead to find the body. But they turned over the corpses in vain; the human features are so altered by death, that they could not recognise it. They saw only one melancholy alternative: this was to bring to the horrid place his favorite Editha, surnamed Swanneshals, or Swan's Neck. Her affectionate eye, and more familiar acquaintance with his person, at last discovered him. He was conveyed to Waltham Abbey, many Norman Counts assisting in his funeral honours."-NOTE IN SHARON TURNER'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, page 64.

I.

The evening sun was low on Albion's plain,
And pour'd a faint and melancholy ray,
Athwart the bloody heaps of thousands slain :
Mailed knights and naked serfs, that mangled lay

In the deep sleep that no awakening day

Can e'er dispel! a few short hours before,

That field was all with flowers and verdure gay;
Now by the war-steed's hoof deep-dinted o'er,

And strewed with shatter'd arms, and stained with human gore!

II.

Near to the battle field, a grassy glade
Stretched far away within the forest's gloom,
The old oaks hung their leafy arms o'er head,
Myriads of wild flowers breathed their sweet perfume,
And prank'd the sloping sward with various bloom.
Here, yet unhelmed, the conquering Norman sate,
His crest high glancing o'er each warrior's plume
Who stood around; while serfs and vassals wait
And swell the royal train, with rude barbaric state.

III.

With timid steps and slow, two holy men,*
In flowing robes and sable cowl arrayed,
Pass'd through the savage ranks till they did gain
The spot whereon the victor king was laid—
Then raising high the sacred cross, they stayed
Their faultering footsteps ;-at the holy sign
The conqueror straight unhelm'd his haughty head,
And all his Barons round their casques resign,
And humbly kneel before that type of love divine.

*The Monks of Waltham Abbey were so sure that the issue of the battle would be unfortunate for Harold, who would not wait for a competent force, that they "sent two of their most respected brethren-Osegod Cnoppe, and Ailric, the Childemaister-to watch the battle; and if he fell, to secure the body."-NOTE FROM SHARON TURNER.

IV.

A thousand lips breathed forth a passing prayer,
A thousand limbs were bent in humble mood-
Lips, which of late with war cries fill'd the air—
Limbs, which had ne'er for earthly favour sued;
Ah! it was beautiful to see subdued

These rugged spirits thus by heavenly grace!
Even that brief gleam of feelings pure and good

Swept half the sternness from each savage face,
Erased each ruthless line, and smooth'd each murderous trace!

V.

Ere from the cross the monarch turned his eyes,
While yet the influence pure his heart confess'd,
In solemn tone and melancholy guise,
One of the fathers thus the king address'd :-
"My Son! the God of battles, who has blest
Thy conquering arms, to men this message sent—
"Temper thy power with mercy' ;-this behest
The heart be given thee to obey, and grant
The boon for which I sue, thy humble suppliant.

VI.

"On yon red field, among the unburied slain,

Thy foe and victim, royal Harold lies;

Grant, mighty king! that we may search the plain,

If so his mangled corse may meet our eyes

(Ah, me! cut off in this his high emprize, Last monarch of the immortal Alfred's line!) To thee, who sway'st the nation's destinies We kneel, to beg thou wilt this boon assign, Who never knelt before, save at God's holy shrine.

VII.

"The truly great, oft, even in victory's hour,
O'er their green laurel wreath some tears have shed,
In memory of the foe, against whose power
The bristling front of battle late they led ;*
For the brave spirit wars not with the dead!
Grant, then, our prayer, by these examples fir'd-
Grant it, by all thy hopes of heavenly aid—
By thy late prayers before this cross respir'd-
By Him, who on that Cross in agony expired!"

* Alexander, at the death of Darius; Cæsar, at that of Pompey, &c. Our Shakspeare has made that of Antony at the death of Brutus the most familiar instance :

ANTONY-" This was the noblest Roman of them all!

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did what they did in envy of great Cæsar;

He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them;
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, This was a Man.'"
JULIUS CAESAR.

VIII.

He ceased the conqueror, William, then replied—
“Rise, holy men! receive the boon you seek,
With Harold's death the dark remembrance died,
Of all the wrongs which he in life did wreak
On me and mine ;* and if my words bespeak
No grief, 'tis that we Norman warriors deem
To grieve for such as him is worse than weak-
Death is no evil to the brave, the beam

Of honour brightens all which else might awful seem!

IX.

"And if for him I felt a touch of woe,
If over Harold's corse I dropt a tear,
"Twould be that I had lost a noble foe,
'Gainst whom I would have joy'd in swift career

"Personal resentment concurred with ambition to stimulate William to the invasion of England, when Harold, violating his oath, had assumed the crown on the death of the Confessor; and the Norman gave his aggression a personal character. It was the breach of faith and perjury of Harold, that he called on his own countrymen and his foreign auxiliaries to punish; and in the day of the battle, this was one of the topics of his military address. With this plea of right he soothed the consciences, and with the promise of his liberality in the distribution of the plunder of England, he excited the cupidity of 50,000 knights, to attempt the arduous expedition. He landed he fought-he conquered-and his reviled competitor perished in the battle."-SHARON TURNER, page 58.