churches, which were then set fire to, in order to drive them out. Robert of Gloucester was taken prisoner, and his followers dispersed. Barons and knights, throwing away their arms, and marching on foot, in order not to be recognised, traversed the towns and villages under false names. But besides the partisans of the king, who pressed them closely, they encountered other enemies on their road, the Saxon peasants and serfs, who were as remorseless to them in their defeat as they had formerly been to the opposite faction. They arrested the progress of these proud Normans, who, in spite of their attempts at disguise, were betrayed by their language, and drove them along with whips. The bishop of Canterbury, some other bishops, and numbers of great lords were maltreated in this manner, and stripped of their clothing. Thus this war was to the English a cause both of misery and of joy, of that frantic joy which is experienced, in the midst of suffering, by rendering evil for evil. The grand-son of a man slain at Hastings would feel a moment's pleasure when he found the life of a Norman in his power, and the Englishwomen, who had plied the distaff in the service of the high Norman ladies, joyfully recounted the story of the sufferings of queen Matilda on her departure from Oxford: how she fled, accompanied only by three men-at-arms, in the night, on foot, through the snow, and how she had passed, in great alarm, close to the enemy's posts, hearing the voice of the sentinels, and the sound of the military signals. Stephen and Maud. KEATS. "As soon as Keats had finished Otho,' Mr. Brown suggested to him the character and reign of king Stephen, beginning with his defeat by the empress Maud, and ending with the death of his son Eustace, as a fine subject for an English historical tragedy. This Keats undertook, assuming to himself, however, the whole conduct of the drama, and wrote some hundred and thirty lines." Moncton Milnes's Life of Keats. SCENE I.-Field of Battle. Alarum. Enter KING STEPHEN, Knights, and Soldiers. Stephen. If shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll'n front your Ply well the rowel with faint trembling heels, Scampering to death at last! Bears his flaunt standard close upon their rear. Second Knight. Sure of a bloody prey, seeing the fens Will swamp them girth-deep. Stephen. Over head and ears, No matter! 'Tis a gallant enemy; How like a comet he goes streaming on. But we must plague him in the flank,-hey, friends? We are well breath'd,-follow ! Enter EARL BALDWIN and Soldiers, as defeated. Stephen. De Redvers! What is the monstrous bugbear that can fright Baldwin. No scare-crow, but the fortunate star This way he comes, and if you would maintain Take horse, my lord. Stephen. And which way spur for life? [Exeunt. Alarum. SCENE II. Another part of the Field. Trumpets sounding a Victory. Enter GLOCESTER, Knights, and Glocester. Now may we lift our bruised visors up, While the wide din of battle dies away Into times past, yet to be echoed sure In the silent pages of our chroniclers. First Knight. Will Stephen's death be mark'd there, my good lord, Or that we gave him lodging in yon towers? Glocester. Fain would I know the great usurper's fate. Enter two Captains severally. First Captain. My lord! Second Captain. Most noble earl! First Captain. The king Second Captain. The empress greets- He sole and lone maintains A hopeless bustle 'mid our swarming arms, He must by this have fallen. Baldwin is taken; He flies, for the Welsh beagles to hunt down. Glocester. Now our dreaded queen; Royal Maud What message from her highness? Second Captain. From the throng'd towers of Lincoln hath look'd down, Like Pallas from the walls of Ilion, And seen her enemies havock'd at her feet. She greets most noble Glocester from her heart, Glocester. Enter Second Knight. Whence come you? Second Knight. From Stephen, my good prince, Stephen! Stephen! Glocester. Why do you make such echoing of his name? Second Knight. Because I think, my lord, he is no man, But a fierce demon, 'nointed safe from wounds, And misbaptised with a Christian name. Glocester. A mighty soldier!—Does he still hold out? Second Knight. He shames our victory. His valour still Keeps elbow-room amid our eager swords, And holds our bladed falchions all aloof- Glocester. Did no one take him at a vantage then? Second Knight. Three then with tiger leap upon him flew, Whom, with his sword swift-drawn and nimbly held, He stung away again, and stood to breathe, Smiling. Anon upon him rush'd once more A throng of foes, and in this renew'd strife, My sword met his and snapp'd off at the hilt. Glocester. Come, lead me to this man—and let us move In silence, not insulting his sad doom With clamorous trumpets. To the empress bear My salutation as befits the time. [Exeunt GLOCESTER and Forces. SCENE III. The Field of Battle. Enter STEPHEN unarmed. Stephen. Another sword! And what if I could seize One from Bellona's gleaming armoury, Or choose the fairest of her sheaved spears! |