Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon Part 42

Dagobert: Our lances round thee have hover'd, Have seen where thy fellows bide; Thy weakness we have discover'd, Thy nakedness we have spied.

Osric: And hearken, knight, to my story-- When sack'd are the convent shrines, When the convent thresholds are gory, And quaff'd are the convent wines: When our beasts with pillage are laden, And the clouds of our black smoke rise From yon tower, one fair-haired maiden Is singled as Osric's prize.

I will fit her with chain and collar Of red gold, studded with pearls; With bracelet of gold, Sir Scholar, The queen of my captive girls.

Hugo (savagely): May the Most High G.o.d of battles The Lord and Ruler of fights, Who breaketh the shield that rattles, Who snappeth the sword that smites, In whose hands are footmen and hors.e.m.e.n, At whose breath they conquer or flee, Never show me His mercy, Norseman!

If I show mercy to thee.

Osric: What, ho! art thou drunk, Sir Norman?

Has the wine made thy pale cheek red?

Now, I swear by Odin and Thor, man, Already I count thee dead.

Rudolph: I crave thy pardon for baulking The flood of thine eloquence, But thou canst not scare us with talking, I therefore pray thee go hence.

Osric: Though I may not take up thy gauntlet, Should we meet where the steel strikes fire, 'Twixt thy casque and thy charger's frontlet The choice will perplex thy squire.

Hugo: When the Norman rowels are goading, When glitters the Norman glaive, Thou shalt call upon Thor and Odin: They shall not hear thee nor save.

"Should we meet!" Aye, the chance may fall so, In the furious battle drive, So may G.o.d deal with me--more, also!

If we separate, both alive!

SCENE--The Court-yard of the Old Farm.

EUSTACE and other followers of HUGO and ERIC lounging about.

Enter THURSTON hastily, with swords under his arm.

Thurston: Now saddle your horses and girth them tight, And see that your weapons are sharp and bright.

Come, lads, get ready as fast as you can.

Eustace: Why, what's this bustle about, old man?

Thurston: Well, it seems Lord Hugo has changed his mind, As the weatherc.o.c.k veers with the shifting wind; He has gone in person to Osric's camp, To tell him to pack up his tents and tramp!

But I guess he won't.

Eustace: Then I hope he will, They are plenty to eat us, as well as to kill.

Ralph: And I hope he won't--I begin to feel A longing to moisten my thirsty steel.

[They begin to saddle and make preparations for a skirmish.]

Thurston: I've a couple of blades to look to here.

In their scabbards I scarcely could make them stir At first, but I'll sharpen them both ere long.

A Man-at-arms: Hurrah for a skirmish! Who'll give us a song?

Thurston (sings, cleaning and sharpening): Hurrah! for the sword! I hold one here, And I scour at the rust and say, 'Tis the umpire this, and the arbiter, That settles in the fairest way; For it stays false tongues and it cools hot blood, And it lowers the proud one's crest; And the law of the land is sometimes good, But the law of the sword is best.

In all disputes 'tis the shortest plan, The surest and best appeal;-- What else can decide between man and man?

(Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!

Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword of Hugo, our lord!

'Tis a trusty friend and a true; It has held its own on a gra.s.sy sward, When its blade shone bright and blue, Though it never has stricken in anger hard, And has scarcely been cleansed from rust, Since the day when it broke through Harold's guard With our favourite cut and thrust; Yet Osric's crown will look somewhat red, And his brain will be apt to reel, Should the trenchant blade come down on his head--

(Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!

Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword of our ally bold, It has done good service to him; It has held its own on an open wold, When its edge was in keener trim.

It may baffle the plots of the wisest skull, It may slacken the strongest limb, Make the brains full of forethought void and null, And the eyes full of far-sight dim; And the hasty hands are content to wait, And the knees are compelled to kneel, Where it falls with the weight of a downstroke straight--

(Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!

Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword--I've one of my own; And I think I may safely say, Give my enemy his, let us stand alone, And our quarrel shall end one way; One way or the other--it matters not much, So the question be fairly tried.

Oh! peacemaker good, bringing peace with a touch, Thy clients will be satisfied.

As a judge, thou dost judge--as a witness, attest, And thou settest thy hand and seal, And the winner is blest, and the loser at rest--

(Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!

[Hugo and Eric enter during the last verse of the song.]

Hugo: Boot and saddle, old friend, Their defiance they send; Time is short--make an end Of thy song.

Let the sword in this fight Strike as hard for the right As it once struck for might Leagued with wrong.

Ha! Rollo, thou champest Thy bridle and stampest, For the rush of the tempest Dost long?

Ho! the kites will grow fatter On the corpses we scatter, In the paths where we shatter Their throng.

Where Osric, the craven, Hath reared the black raven 'Gainst monks that are shaven And cowl'd: Where the Teuton and Hun sit, In the track of our onset, Will the wolves, ere the sunset, Have howl'd.

Retribution is good, They have revell'd in blood, Like the wolves of the wood They have prowl'd.

Birds of prey they have been, And of carrion unclean, And their own nests (I ween) They have foul'd.

Eric: Two messengers since Yestermorn have gone hence, And ere long will the Prince Bring relief.

Shall we pause?--they are ten To our one, but their men Are ill-arm'd, and scarce ken Their own chief; And for this we give thanks: Their disorderly ranks, If a.s.sail'd in the flanks, Will as lief Run as fight--loons and lords.

Hugo: Mount your steeds! draw your swords!

Take your places! My words Shall be brief: Ride round by the valley, Through pa.s.s and gorge sally-- The linden trees rally Beneath.

Then, Eric and Thurston, Their ranks while we burst on, Try which will be first on The heath.

(Aside) Look again, mother mine, Through the happy starshine, For my sins dost thou pine?

With my breath, See! thy pangs are all done, For the life of thy son: Thou shalt never feel one For his death.

[They all go out but Hugo, who lingers to tighten his girths. Orion appears suddenly in the gateway.]

Orion: Stay, friend! I keep guard on Thy soul's gates; hold hard on Thy horse. Hope of pardon Hath fled!

Bethink once, I crave thee, Can recklessness save thee?

h.e.l.l sooner will have thee Instead.

Hugo: Back! My soul, tempest-toss'd, Hath her Rubicon cross'd, She shall fly--saved or lost!

Void of dread!

Sharper pang than the steel, Thou, oh, serpent! shalt feel, Should I set the bruised heel On thy head.

[He rides out.]