The Ballad of the White Horse Part 7

Not less barbarian laughter Choked Harold like a flood, "And shall I fight with scarecrows That am of Guthrum's blood?

"Meeting may be of war-men, Where the best war-man wins; But all this carrion a man shoots Before the fight begins."

And stopping in his onward strides, He s.n.a.t.c.hed a bow in scorn From some mean slave, and bent it on Colan, whose doom grew dark; and shone Stars evil over Caerleon, In the place where he was born.

For Colan had not bow nor sling, On a lonely sword leaned he, Like Arthur on Excalibur In the battle by the sea.

To his great gold ear-ring Harold Tugged back the feathered tail, And swift had sprung the arrow, But swifter sprang the Gael.

Whirling the one sword round his head, A great wheel in the sun, He sent it splendid through the sky, Flying before the shaft could fly-- It smote Earl Harold over the eye, And blood began to run.

Colan stood bare and weaponless, Earl Harold, as in pain, Strove for a smile, put hand to head, Stumbled and suddenly fell dead; And the small white daisies all waxed red With blood out of his brain.

And all at that marvel of the sword, Cast like a stone to slay, Cried out. Said Alfred: "Who would see Signs, must give all things. Verily Man shall not taste of victory Till he throws his sword away."

Then Alfred, prince of England, And all the Christian earls, Unhooked their swords and held them up, Each offered to Colan, like a cup Of chrysolite and pearls.

And the King said, "Do thou take my sword Who have done this deed of fire, For this is the manner of Christian men, Whether of steel or priestly pen, That they cast their hearts out of their ken To get their heart's desire.

"And whether ye swear a hive of monks, Or one fair wife to friend, This is the manner of Christian men, That their oath endures the end.

"For love, our Lord, at the end of the world, Sits a red horse like a throne, With a brazen helm and an iron bow, But one arrow alone.

"Love with the shield of the Broken Heart Ever his bow doth bend, With a single shaft for a single prize, And the ultimate bolt that parts and flies Comes with a thunder of split skies, And a sound of souls that rend.

"So shall you earn a king's sword, Who cast your sword away."

And the King took, with a random eye, A rude axe from a hind hard by And turned him to the fray.

For the swords of the Earls of Daneland Flamed round the fallen lord.

The first blood woke the trumpet-tune, As in monk's rhyme or wizard's rune, Beginneth the battle of Ethandune With the throwing of the sword.

BOOK VI. ETHANDUNE: THE SLAYING OF THE CHIEFS

As the sea flooding the flat sands Flew on the sea-born horde, The two hosts shocked with dust and din, Left of the Latian paladin, Clanged all Prince Harold's howling kin On Colan and the sword.

Crashed in the midst on Marcus, Ogier with Guthrum by, And eastward of such central stir, Far to the right and faintlier, The house of Elf the harp-player, Struck Eldred's with a cry.

The centre swat for weariness, Stemming the screaming horde, And wearily went Colan's hands That swung King Alfred's sword.

But like a cloud of morning To eastward easily, Tall Eldred broke the sea of spears As a tall ship breaks the sea.

His face like a sanguine sunset, His shoulder a Wess.e.x down, His hand like a windy hammer-stroke; Men could not count the crests he broke, So fast the crests went down.

As the tall white devil of the Plague Moves out of Asian skies, With his foot on a waste of cities And his head in a cloud of flies;

Or purple and peac.o.c.k skies grow dark With a moving locust-tower; Or tawny sand-winds tall and dry, Like h.e.l.l's red banners beat and fly, When death comes out of Araby, Was Eldred in his hour.

But while he moved like a ma.s.sacre He murmured as in sleep, And his words were all of low hedges And little fields and sheep.

Even as he strode like a pestilence, That strides from Rhine to Rome, He thought how tall his beans might be If ever he went home.

Spoke some stiff piece of childish prayer, Dull as the distant chimes, That thanked our G.o.d for good eating And corn and quiet times--

Till on the helm of a high chief Fell shatteringly his brand, And the helm broke and the bone broke And the sword broke in his hand.

Then from the yelling Northmen Driven splintering on him ran Full seven spears, and the seventh Was never made by man.

Seven spears, and the seventh Was wrought as the faerie blades, And given to Elf the minstrel By the monstrous water-maids;

By them that dwell where luridly Lost waters of the Rhine Move among roots of nations, Being sunken for a sign.

Under all graves they murmur, They murmur and rebel, Down to the buried kingdoms creep, And like a lost rain roar and weep O'er the red heavens of h.e.l.l.

Thrice drowned was Elf the minstrel, And washed as dead on sand; And the third time men found him The spear was in his hand.

Seven spears went about Eldred, Like stays about a mast; But there was sorrow by the sea For the driving of the last.

Six spears thrust upon Eldred Were splintered while he laughed; One spear thrust into Eldred, Three feet of blade and shaft.

And from the great heart grievously Came forth the shaft and blade, And he stood with the face of a dead man, Stood a little, and swayed--

Then fell, as falls a battle-tower, On smashed and struggling spears.

Cast down from some unconquered town That, rushing earthward, carries down Loads of live men of all renown-- Archers and engineers.

And a great clamour of Christian men Went up in agony, Crying, "Fallen is the tower of Wess.e.x That stood beside the sea."

Centre and right the Wess.e.x guard Grew pale for doubt and fear, And the flank failed at the advance, For the death-light on the wizard lance-- The star of the evil spear.

"Stand like an oak," cried Marcus, "Stand like a Roman wall!

Eldred the Good is fallen-- Are you too good to fall?

"When we were wan and bloodless He gave you ale enow; The pirates deal with him as dung, G.o.d! are you bloodless now?"

"Grip, Wulf and Gorlias, grip the ash!

Slaves, and I make you free!

Stamp, Hildred hard in English land, Stand Gurth, stand Gorlias, Gawen stand!

Hold, Halfgar, with the other hand, Halmer, hold up on knee!

"The lamps are dying in your homes, The fruits upon your bough; Even now your old thatch smoulders, Gurth, Now is the judgment of the earth, Now is the death-grip, now!"

For thunder of the captain, Not less the Wess.e.x line, Leaned back and reeled a s.p.a.ce to rear As Elf charged with the Rhine maids' spear, And roaring like the Rhine.

For the men were borne by the waving walls Of woods and clouds that pa.s.s, By dizzy plains and drifting sea, And they mixed G.o.d with glamoury, G.o.d with the G.o.ds of the burning tree And the wizard's tower and gla.s.s.