Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop?" Canute cried;

"Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride?

If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide !

"Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign?"

Said the Bishop, bowing lowly: "Land and sea, my lord, are thine."

Canute turned towards the ocean

"thou foaming brine.

Back!" he said,

"From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee

to retreat;

Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat;

Ocean, be thou still! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet!"

But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper

roar,

And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore;

Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers bore.

And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay,

But alone to praise and worship that which earth and seas obey;

And his golden crown of empire never wore he from

that day.

King Canute is dead and gone: Parasites exist alway.

HAROLD

LORD TENNYSON

EDWARD THE CONFESSOR, son of Ethelred and Emma, who had spent his boyhood in exile at the Norman court, was elected king after the death of Harthacanute. He was Norman at heart, and had little concern for the well-being of England. Having no children, he promised to leave the kingdom to his kinsman, William, Duke of Normandy. Harold, Earl of Wessex, was preferred by the English, but William won the crown through craft and violence. Harold was tricked into swearing to support the Norman's claim to the throne, and when, on Edward's death, the Witan elected the Earl of Wessex king, William crossed the Channel with a great army to seize the government. Landing at Pevensey, he met Harold's army at Senlac Hill and destroyed it (1066). Harold himself was killed by a falling arrow that pierced his eye.

ACT I

SCENE I. LONDON. The King's Palace.

(A comet seen through the open window.) King, Queen, the Lady Aldwyth, Harold, and Tostig. In heaven signs!

Edward.

Signs upon earth! signs everywhere! your Priests
Gross, worldly, simoniacal, unlearn'd!

They scarce can read their Psalter; and your churches
Uncouth, unhandsome, while in Normanland
God speaks thro' abler voices, as He dwells
In statelier shrines. I say not this, as being
Half Norman-blooded, nor as some have held,

Because I love the Norman better no,

But dreading God's revenge upon this realm
For narrowness and coldness and I say it
For the last time perchance, before I go
To find the sweet refreshment of the Saints.
I have lived a life of utter purity:

I have builded the great church of Holy Peter:
I have wrought miracles to God the glory —
And miracles will in my name be wrought
Hereafter. I have fought the fight and go-
I see the flashing of the gates of pearl-
And it is well with me, tho' some of you
Have scorn'd me ay but after I am gone
Woe, woe to England! I have had a vision;
The seven sleepers in the cave at Ephesus
Have turn'd from right to left.

Harold.

My most dear Master,

What matters? Let them turn from left to right

And sleep again.

Tostig.

Too hardy with thy king!

A life of prayer and fasting well may see

Deeper into the mysteries of heaven.

Than thou, good brother.
Aldwyth (aside).

Sees he into thine,

That thou wouldst have his promise for the crown?
Edward. Tostig says true; my son, thou art too hard,
Not stagger'd by this ominous earth and heaven :
But heaven and earth are threads of the same loom,
Play into one another, and weave the web
That may confound thee yet.

Harold.

Nay, I trust not,

For I have served thee long and honestly.

Edward. I know it, son; I am not thankless: thou Hast broken all my foes, lighten'd for me

The weight of this poor crown, and left me time
And peace for prayer to gain a better one.

Twelve years of service! England loves thee for it.
Thou art the man to rule her!

Aldwyth (aside).

So, not Tostig!

Harold. And after those twelve years a boon, my king,

Respite, a holiday: thyself wast wont

To love the chase: the leave to set my feet

On board, and hunt and hawk beyond the seas!

Edward. What, with this flaming horror overhead? Harold. Well, when it passes then.

Edward.

Ay if it pass.

Go not to Normandy-go not to Normandy.

Harold. And wherefore not, my king, to Normandy?

Is not my brother Wulfnoth hostage there

For my dead father's loyalty to thee?

I pray thee, let me hence and bring him home.

As I think

But he begins to flutter.

He was thine host in England when I went

To visit Edward.

Malet.

Yea, and there, my lord,

To make allowance for their rougher fashions,

I found him all a noble host should be.

William. Thou art his friend: thou knowst my claim on England

Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.
And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.

Malet. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?
William. What wouldst thou do?

Malet.

My lord, he is thy guest.

William. Nay, by the splendor of God, no guest

of mine.

He came not to see me, had passed me by

To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate
Which hunted him when that un-Saxon blast,
And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven
To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd
His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend
Guy

Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,
But that I stept between and purchased him,
Translating his captivity from Guy

To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits
My ransom'd prisoner.