Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Delphi Poets Series

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Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Delphi Poets Series Page 151

by Lord Tennyson Alfred

HAROLD.

  Too fearful still!

  WULFNOTH.

  Oh no, no — speak him fair!

  Call it to temporize; and not to lie;

  Harold, I do not counsel thee to lie.

  The man that hath to foil a murderous aim

  May, surely, play with words.

  HAROLD.

  Words are the man.

  Not ev’n for thy sake, brother, would I lie.

  WULFNOTH.

  Then for thine Edith?

  HAROLD.

  There thou prick’st me deep.

  WULFNOTH.

  And for our Mother England?

  HAROLD.

  Deeper still.

  WULFNOTH.

  And deeper still the deep-down oubliette,

  Down thirty feet below the smiling day —

  In blackness — dogs’ food thrown upon thy head.

  And over thee the suns arise and set,

  And the lark sings, the sweet stars come and go,

  And men are at their markets, in their fields,

  And woo their loves and have forgotten thee;

  And thou art upright in thy living grave,

  Where there is barely room to shift thy side,

  And all thine England hath forgotten thee;

  And he our lazy-pious Norman King,

  With all his Normans round him once again,

  Counts his old beads, and hath forgotten thee.

  HAROLD.

  Thou art of my blood, and so methinks, my boy,

  Thy fears infect me beyond reason. Peace!

  WULFNOTH.

  And then our fiery Tostig, while thy hands

  Are palsied here, if his Northumbrians rise

  And hurl him from them, — I have heard the Normans

  Count upon this confusion — may he not make

  A league with William, so to bring him back?

  HAROLD.

  That lies within the shadow of the chance.

  WULFNOTH.

  And like a river in flood thro’ a burst dam

  Descends the ruthless Norman — our good King

  Kneels mumbling some old bone — our helpless folk

  Are wash’d away, wailing, in their own blood —

  HAROLD.

  Wailing! not warring? Boy, thou hast forgotten

  That thou art English.

  WULFNOTH.

  Then our modest women —

  I know the Norman license — thine own Edith —

  HAROLD.

  No more! I will not hear thee — William comes.

  WULFNOTH.

  I dare not well be seen in talk with thee.

  Make thou not mention that I spake with thee.

  [Moves away to the back of the stage.

  Enter WILLIAM, MALET, and OFFICER.

  OFFICER.

  We have the man that rail’d against thy birth.

  WILLIAM.

  Tear out his tongue.

  OFFICER.

  He shall not rail again.

  He said that he should see confusion fall

  On thee and on thine house.

  WILLIAM.

  Tear out his eyes, And plunge him into prison.

  OFFICER.

  It shall be done.

  [Exit Officer.

  WILLIAM.

  Look not amazed, fair earl! Better leave undone

  Than do by halves — tongueless and eyeless, prison’d —

  HAROLD.

  Better methinks have slain the man at once!

  WILLIAM.

  We have respect for man’s immortal soul,

  We seldom take man’s life, except in war;

  It frights the traitor more to maim and blind.

  HAROLD.

  In mine own land I should have scorn’d the man,

  Or lash’d his rascal back, and let him go.

  WILLIAM.

  And let him go? To slander thee again!

  Yet in thine own land in thy father’s day

  They blinded my young kinsman, Alfred — ay,

  Some said it was thy father’s deed.

  HAROLD.

  They lied.

  WILLIAM.

  But thou and he — whom at thy word, for thou

  Art known a speaker of the truth, I free

  From this foul charge —

  HAROLD.

  Nay, nay, he freed himself

  By oath and compurgation from the charge.

  The king, the lords, the people clear’d him of it.

  WILLIAM.

  But thou and he drove our good Normans out

  From England, and this rankles in us yet.

  Archbishop Robert hardly scaped with life.

  HAROLD.

  Archbishop Robert! Robert the Archbishop!

  Robert of Jumiéges, he that —

  MALET.

  Quiet! quiet!

  HAROLD.

  Count! if there sat within the Norman chair

  A ruler all for England — one who fill’d

  All offices, all bishopricks with English —

  We could not move from Dover to the Humber

  Saving thro’ Norman bishopricks — I say

  Ye would applaud that Norman who should drive

  The stranger to the fiends!

  WILLIAM.

  Why, that is reason!

  Warrior thou art, and mighty wise withal!

  Ay, ay, but many among our Norman lords

  Hate thee for this, and press upon me — saying

  God and the sea have given thee to our hands —

  To plunge thee into life-long prison here: —

  Yet I hold out against them, as I may,

  Yea — would hold out, yea, tho’ they should revolt —

  For thou hast done the battle in my cause;

  I am thy fastest friend in Normandy.

  HAROLD.

  I am doubly bound to thee . . . if this be so.

  WILLIAM.

  And I would bind thee more, and would myself

  Be bounden to thee more.

  HAROLD.

  Then let me hence With Wulfnoth to King Edward.

  WILLIAM.

  So we will. We hear he hath not long to live.

  HAROLD.

  It may be.

  WILLIAM.

  Why then the heir of England, who is he?

  HAROLD.

  The Atheling is nearest to the throne.

  WILLIAM.

  But sickly, slight, half-witted and a child,

  Will England have him king?

  HAROLD.

  It may be, no.

  WILLIAM.

  And hath King Edward not pronounced his heir?

  HAROLD.

  Not that I know.

  WILLIAM.

  When he was here in Normandy,

  He loved us and we him, because we found him.

  A Norman of the Normans.

  HAROLD.

  So did we.

  WILLIAM.

  A gentle, gracious, pure and saintly man!

  And grateful to the hand that shielded him,

  He promised that if ever he were king

  In England, he would give his kingly voice

  To me as his successor. Knowest thou this?

  HAROLD.

  I learn it now.

  WILLIAM.

  Thou knowest I am his cousin,

  And that my wife descends from Alfred?

  HAROLD.

  Ay.

  WILLIAM.

  Who hath a better claim then to the crown

  So that ye will not crown the Atheling?

  HAROLD.

  None that I know . . . if that but hung upon

  King Edward’s will.

  WILLIAM.

  Wilt thou uphold my claim?

  MALET (aside to HAROLD).

  Be careful of thine answer, my good friend.

  WULFNOTH (aside to HAROLD).

  Oh! Harold, for my sake and for thine own!

  HAROLD.
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  Ay . . . if the king have not revoked his promise.

  WILLIAM.

  But hath he done it then?

  HAROLD.

  Not that I know.

  WILLIAM.

  Good, good, and thou wilt help me to the crown?

  HAROLD.

  Ay . . . if the Witan will consent to this.

  WILLIAM.

  Thou art the mightiest voice in England, man,

  Thy voice will lead the Witan — shall I have it?

  WULFNOTH (aside to HAROLD).

  Oh! Harold, if thou love thine Edith, ay.

  HAROLD.

  Ay, if —

  MALET (aside to HAROLD).

  Thine ‘ifs’ will sear thine eyes out — ay.

  WILLIAM.

  I ask thee, wilt thou help me to the crown?

  And I will make thee my great Earl of Earls,

  Foremost in England and in Normandy;

  Thou shalt be verily king — all but the name —

  For I shall most sojourn in Normandy;

  And thou be my vice-king in England. Speak.

  WULFNOTH (aside to HAROLD).

  Ay, brother — for the sake of England — ay.

  HAROLD.

  My lord —

  MALET (aside to HAROLD).

  Take heed now.

  HAROLD.

  Ay.

  WILLIAM.

  I am content,

  For thou art truthful, and thy word thy bond.

  To-morrow will we ride with thee to Harfleur.

  [Exit William.

  MALET.

  Harold, I am thy friend, one life with thee,

  And even as I should bless thee saving mine,

  I thank thee now for having saved thyself.

  [Exit Malet.

  HAROLD.

  For having lost myself to save myself,

  Said ‘ay’ when I meant ‘no,’ lied like a lad

  That dreads the pendent scourge, said ‘ay’ for ‘no’!

  Ay! No! — he hath not bound me by an oath —

  Is ‘ay’ an oath? is ‘ay’ strong as an oath?

  Or is it the same sin to break my word

  As break mine oath? He call’d my word my bond!

  He is a liar who knows I am a liar,

  And makes believe that he believes my word —

  The crime be on his head — not bounden — no.

  [Suddenly doors are flung open, discovering in an inner hall COUNT WILLIAM in his state robes, seated upon his throne, between two BISHOPS, ODO OF BAYEUX being one: in the centre of the hall an ark covered with cloth of gold; and on either side of it the NORMAN BARONS.

  Enter a JAILOR before WILLIAM’S throne.

  WILLIAM (to JAILOR).

  Knave, hast thou let thy prisoner scape?

  JAILOR.

  Sir Count,

  He had but one foot, he must have hopt away,

  Yea, some familiar spirit must have help’d him.

  WILLIAM.

  Woe knave to thy familiar and to thee!

  Give me thy keys. [They fall clashing.

  Nay let them lie. Stand there and wait my will.

  [The JAILOR stands aside.

  WILLIAM (to HAROLD).

  Hast thou such trustless jailors in thy North?

  HAROLD.

  We have few prisoners in mine earldom there,

  So less chance for false keepers.

  WILLIAM.

  We have heard

  Of thy just, mild, and equal governance;

  Honour to thee! thou art perfect in all honour!

  Thy naked word thy bond! confirm it now

  Before our gather’d Norman baronage,

  For they will not believe thee — as I believe.

  [Descends from his throne and stands by the ark.

  Let all men here bear witness of our bond!

  [Beckons to HAROLD, who advances.

  Enter MALET behind him.

  Lay thou thy hand upon this golden pall!

  Behold the jewel of St. Pancratius

  Woven into the gold. Swear thou on this!

  HAROLD.

  What should I swear? Why should I swear on this?

  WILLIAM (savagely).

  Swear thou to help me to the crown of England.

  MALET (whispering HAROLD).

  My friend, thou hast gone too far to palter now.

  WULFNOTH (whispering HAROLD).

  Swear thou to-day, to-morrow is thine own.

  HAROLD.

  I swear to help thee to the crown of England . . .

  According as King Edward promises.

  WILLIAM.

  Thou must swear absolutely, noble Earl.

  MALET (whispering).

  Delay is death to thee, ruin to England.

  WULFNOTH (whispering).

  Swear, dearest brother, I beseech thee, swear!

  HAROLD (putting his hand on the jewel).

  I swear to help thee to the crown of England.

  WILLIAM.

  Thanks, truthful Earl; I did not doubt thy word,

  But that my barons might believe thy word,

  And that the Holy Saints of Normandy

  When thou art home in England, with thine own,

  Might strengthen thee in keeping of thy word,

  I made thee swear. — Show him by whom he hath sworn.

  [The two BISHOPS advance, and raise the cloth of gold.

  The bodies and bones of Saints are seen lying in the ark.

  The holy bones of all the Canonised

  From all the holiest shrines in Normandy!

  HAROLD.

  Horrible! [They let the cloth fall again.

  WILLIAM.

  Ay, for thou hast sworn an oath

  Which, if not kept, would make the hard earth rive

  To the very Devil’s horns, the bright sky cleave

  To the very feet of God, and send her hosts

  Of injured Saints to scatter sparks of plague

  Thro’ all your cities, blast your infants, dash

  The torch of war among your standing corn,

  Dabble your hearths with your own blood. — Enough!

  Thou wilt not break it! I, the Count — the King —

  Thy friend — am grateful for thine honest oath,

  Not coming fiercely like a conqueror, now,

  But softly as a bridegroom to his own.

  For I shall rule according to your laws,

  And make your ever-jarring Earldoms move

  To music and in order — Angle, Jute,

  Dane, Saxon, Norman, help to build a throne

  Out-towering hers of France. . . . The wind is fair

  For England now. . . . To-night we will be merry.

  To-morrow will I ride with thee to Harfleur.

  [Exeunt WILLIAM and all the NORMAN BARONS, etc.

  HAROLD.

  To-night we will be merry — and to-morrow —

  Juggler and bastard — bastard — he hates that most —

  William the tanner’s bastard! Would he heard me!

  O God, that I were in some wide, waste field

  With nothing but my battle-axe and him

  To spatter his brains! Why let earth rive, gulf in

  These cursed Normans — yea and mine own self.

  Cleave heaven, and send thy saints that I may say

  Ev’n to their faces, ‘If ye side with William

  Ye are not noble.’ How their pointed fingers

  Glared at me! Am I Harold, Harold, son

  Of our great Godwin? Lo! I touch mine arms,

  My limbs — they are not mine — they are a liar’s —

  I mean to be a liar — I am not bound —

  Stigand shall give me absolution for it —

  Did the chest move? did it move? I am utter craven!

  O Wulfnoth, Wulfnoth, brother, thou hast betray’d me!

  WULFNOTH.

  Forgive me, brother, I will live here and die.

  Enter PA
GE.

  PAGE.

  My lord! the Duke awaits thee at the banquet.

  HAROLD.

  Where they eat dead men’s flesh, and drink their blood.

  PAGE.

  My lord —

  HAROLD.

  I know your Norman cookery is so spiced,

  It masks all this.

  PAGE.

  My lord! thou art white as death.

  HAROLD.

  With looking on the dead. Am I so white?

  Thy Duke will seem the darker. Hence, I follow.

  [Exeunt.

  Act III

  Scene I

  The King’s Palace. London.

  KING EDWARD dying on a couch, and by him standing the QUEEN, HAROLD, ARCHBISHOP STIGAND, GURTH, LEOFWIN, ARCHBISHOP ALDRED, ALDWYTH, and EDITH.

  STIGAND.

  Sleeping or dying there? If this be death,

  Then our great Council wait to crown thee King —

  Come hither, I have a power; [To HAROLD.

  They call me near, for I am close to thee

  And England — I, old shrivell’d Stigand, I,

  Dry as an old wood-fungus on a dead tree,

  I have a power!

  See here this little key about my neck!

  There lies a treasure buried down in Ely:

  If e’er the Norman grow too hard for thee,

  Ask me for this at thy most need, son Harold,

  At thy most need — not sooner.

  HAROLD.

  So I will.

  STIGAND.

  Red gold — a hundred purses — yea, and more!

  If thou canst make a wholesome use of these

  To chink against the Norman, I do believe

  My old crook’d spine would bud out two young wings

  To fly to heaven straight with.

  HAROLD.

  Thank thee, father!

  Thou art English, Edward too is English now,

  He hath clean repented of his Normanism.

  STIGAND.

  Ay, as the libertine repents who cannot

  Make done undone, when thro’ his dying sense

  Shrills ‘lost thro’ thee.’ They have built their castles here;

  Our priories are Norman; the Norman adder

  Hath bitten us; we are poison’d: our dear England

  Is demi-Norman. He! —

  [Pointing to KING EDWARD, sleeping.

  HAROLD.

  I would I were

  As holy and as passionless as he!

  That I might rest as calmly! Look at him —

  The rosy face, and long down-silvering beard,

  The brows unwrinkled as a summer mere. —

  STIGAND.

  A summer mere with sudden wreckful gusts

  From a side-gorge. Passionless? How he flamed

  When Tostig’s anger’d earldom flung him, nay,

  He fain had calcined all Northumbria

  To one black ash, but that thy patriot passion

  Siding with our great Council against Tostig,

  Out-passion’d his! Holy? ay, ay, forsooth,

  A conscience for his own soul, not his realm;

  A twilight conscience lighted thro’ a chink;

 

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