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1902
AFTER the sack of the City when Rome was sunk to a name | |
| In the years that the lights were darkened, or ever St. Wilfrid came | |
| Low on the borders of Britain (the ancient poets sing) | |
| Between the Cliff and the Forest there ruled a Saxon King. | |
| Stubborn all were his people from cottar to overlord— | 5 |
| Not to be cowed by the cudgel, scarce to be schooled by the sword; | |
| Quick to turn at their pleasure, cruel to cross in their mood, | |
| And set on paths of their choosing as the hogs of Andred’s Wood. | |
| Laws they made in the Witan—the laws of flaying and fine— | |
| Common, loppage and pannage, the theft and the track of kine— | 10 |
| Statutes of tun and of market for the fish and the malt and the meal— | |
| The tax on the Bramber packhorse and the tax on the Hastings keel. | |
| Over the graves of the Druids and under the wreck of Rome | |
| Rudely but surely they bedded the plinth of the days to come. | |
| Behind the feet of the Legions and before the Norseman’s ire | 15 |
| Rudely but greatly begat they the framing of State and Shire. | |
| Rudely but deeply they laboured, and their labour stands till now, | |
| If we trace on our ancient headlands the twist of their eight-ox plough…. | |
| There came a king from Hamtun, by Bosenham he came, | |
| He filled Use with slaughter, and Lewes he gave to flame. | 20 |
| He smote while they sat in the Witan—sudden he smote and sore, | |
| That his fleet was gathered at Selsea ere they mustered at Cymen’s Ore. | |
| Blithe went the Saxons to battle, by down and wood and mere, | |
| But thrice the acorns ripened ere the western mark was clear. | |
| Thrice was the beechmast gathered, and the Beltane fires burned | 25 |
| Thrice, and the beeves were salted thrice ere the host returned | |
| They drove that king from Hamtun, by Bosenham o’erthrown, | |
| Out of Rugnor to Wilton they made his land their own. | |
| Camps they builded at Gilling, at Basing and Alresford, | |
| But wrath abode in the Saxons from cottar to overlord. | 30 |
| Wrath at the weary war-game, at the foe that snapped and ran | |
| Wolf-wise feigning and flying, and wolf-wise snatching his man. | |
| Wrath for their spears unready, their levies new to the blades— | |
| Shame for the helpless sieges and the scornful ambuscades. | |
| At hearth and tavern and market, wherever the tale was told, | 35 |
| Shame and wrath had the Saxons because of their boasts of old. | |
| And some would drink and deny it, and some would pray and atone; | |
| But the most part, after their anger, avouched that the sin was their own. | |
| Wherefore, girding together, up to the Witan they came, | |
| And as they had shouldered their bucklers so did they shoulder their blame. | 40 |
| For that was the wont of the Saxons (the ancient poets sing), | |
| And first they spoke in the Witan and then they spoke to the King: | |
| “Edward King of the Saxons, thou knowest from sire to son, | |
| “One is the King and his People—in gain and ungain one. | |
| “Count we the gain together. With doubtings and spread dismays | 45 |
| “We have broken a foolish people—but after many days. | |
| “Count we the loss together. Warlocks hampered our arms | |
| “We were tricked as by magic, we were turned as by charms. | |
| “We went down to the battle and the road was plain to keep | |
| “But our angry eyes were holden, and we struck as they strike in sleep— | 50 |
| “Men new shaken from slumber, sweating, with eyes a-stare | |
| “Little blows and uncertain dealt on the useless air. | |
| “Also a vision betrayed us and a lying tale made bold | |
| “That we looked to hold what we had not and to have what we did not hold: | |
| “That a shield should give us shelter—that a sword should give us power— | 55 |
| “A shield snatched up at a venture and a hilt scarce handled an hour: | |
| “That being rich in the open, we should be strong in the close— | |
| “And the Gods would sell us a cunning for the day that we met our foes. | |
| “This was the work of wizards, but not with our foe they bide, | |
| “In our own camp we took them, and their names are Sloth and Pride. | 60 |
| “Our pride was before the battle: our sloth ere we lifted spear, | |
| “But hid in the heart of the people as the fever hides in the mere, | |
| “Waiting only the war-game, the heat of the strife to rise | |
| “As the ague fumes round Oxeney when the rotting reed-bed dries. | |
| “But now we are purged of that fever—cleansed by the letting of blood, | 65 |
| “Something leaner of body—something keener of mood. | |
| “And the men new-freed from the levies return to the fields again, | |
| “Matching a hundred battles, cottar and lord and thane. | |
| “And they talk loud in the temples where the ancient war-gods are. | |
| “They thumb and mock and belittle the holy harness of war. | 70 |
| “They jest at the sacred chariots, the robes and the gilded staff. | |
| “These things fill them with laughter, they lean on their spears and laugh. | |
| “The men grown old in the war-game, hither and thither they range— | |
| “And scorn and laughter together are sire and dam of change; | |
| “And change may be good or evil—but we know not what it will bring— | 75 |
| “Therefore our King must teach us. That is thy task, O King!” | |
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