Puslapio vaizdai

Thou art not here, for if thou wert, I know
Thou ’dst fly to meet me.—Ha! I see thee now.
And yet thou mov'st not. What! in chains again ?
Not so, Elgiva—thou art free, my Love-
I smote them with the sword. Oh, come to me!
Give me thy hand.


Doctor, thou mad'st report The fever had abated.


It had, my Lord,

But rages now afresh.


How came he hither ?


He asked us if the Queen were buried yet,
Or where the body lay ; we told him, here ;
And he commanded we should bring him,


See !


Thy hand is very cold. Come, come, look up.
Hast not a word to say to so much love ?
Well- - as thou wilt-but 'twas not always thus.

So soon to be forgotten! Oh, so soon !
And I have loved so truly all this while !
I dream–I do but dream, I think.- What's here?
'Tis not the dress that thou wert wont to wear.
This is a corpse ! Attendance, here! What ho !
Who was so bold to bring a stone-cold corpse
Into the King's apartment ? Stop—be still-
I know not that. Give me but time, my friends,
And I will tell you.


Draw him from the corpse : This loss of blood, that drains the fever off, Anon will bring him to himself.


My Lord,

I hear a shout as of a multitude
In the North Suburb.


Bridferth, mount the tower,

And look abroad.


That was a voice I knewIt came from darkness and the pit—but hark !

An Angel's song ·

'Tis Dunstan that I see! Rebellious Monk! I lay my body down Here at thy feet to die, but not my soul, Which goes to God. The cry of innocent blood Is up against thee, and the Avenger's cry Shall answer it. Support me, Sirs, I pray ; Be patient with me ... there was something still ... I know not what ... under your pardon . . . yes .. Touching my burial ... did I not see but now . I pray you, Sirs, ... there ... there ...

[Dies. BRIDFERTH (from the tower). My Lord, my Lord, Harcather flies; the Danes Are pouring thro' the gate. Harcather falls.

Another corpse


Give me the crucifix. Bring out the relics.
Host of the Lord of Hosts, forth once again!

[Exeunt, the trumpets of Olaf and SWEYNE sounding in the

distance. The Curtain falls.


PREFACE, PAGE xii. The prayer of the Anglo-Saxon Liturgy, for deliver

ance à furore Northmannorum."


The Anglo-Saxon ritual of the Cathedral Church of Durham, printed by the Surtees Society, contains some curious specimens of the religious services of the period. I am tempted to quote the invocation by which the Devil was prevented from riding upon horses, goats, and swine.

Habraham, Habraham! equos, capras, et porcusque benedic latrinibus, angelus qui positus est super animalia nostra custodiat ea, ut non poterit Diabolus inequitare illa. Habraham teneat vos per ac divinitas Dei, Deus ad dexteram, angelus ad sinistram, propheta vos prosequentur, martyres antecedant vos, patronesque persequentur, vos custodiat Dominus oves et boves, vitulos, equos et apes, custodi

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