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The foe they crushed, The Scottish people and the shipmen fated fell. The field dæniede' with warriors blood, since the sun up at morning tide, mighty planet, glided o'er grounds, God's candle bright, the eternal Soul's, till the noble creature sank to her settle. There lay many a warrior by javelins strewed ; Northern man over shield shot ; so the Scots eke, weary, war-sad. West-Saxons onwards throughout the day, in bands, pursued the footsteps of the loathed nations. They hewed the fugitives behind, amain, with swords mill-sharp. Mercians refused not the hard hand-plug to any heroes who with Aulaf, over the ocean, in the ship's bosom, this land sought fated to the fight. Five lay on the battle-stead, youthful kings, by swords in slumber laid : so seven eke of Aulaf's eorls; of the army countless, shipmen and Scots. There was made flee the north-men's chieftain, by need constrained, to the ship's prow with a little band. The bark drove afloat: the king departed on the fallow flood,
his life preserved. So there eke the sage came by flight to his country north, Constantine, hoary warrior. He had no cause to exult in the communion of swords. Here was his kindred band of friends o'erthrown on the folk-stead, in battle slain ; and his son he left on the slaughter-place, mangled with wounds, young in the fight: he had no cause to boast, beorn grizzly-haired, of the vile clashing, the old deceiver ; nor Aulaf the more, with the remnant of their armies ; they had no cause to laugh that they in war's works the better men were in the battle stead, at the conflict of banners, meeting of spears, concourse of men, traffic of weapons ; that they on the slaughter field with Eadward's offspring played.
The north-men departed in their nailed barks; bloody relic of darts, on dinges' ocean o'er the deep water Dublin to seek, again Ireland, shamed in mind.
So to the brothers, both together, king and etheling, their country sought, West-Saxons' land, in the war exulting. They left behind them, the corse to devour, the sallowy 'pada' and the swart raven with horned neb,
and the dusky 'pada'
22.-EDWIN THE FAIR.
HENRY TAYLOR. [Mr. Taylor's Drama of ' Edwin the Fair' is full of grace and power, seizing, we have no doubt, upon the great historical truths of that age. We give a scene, with an extract froin the Preface.]
Mr. Turner's learned and elaborate work has done much to make the AngloSaxon times better known than they were formerly, and we have ceased to regard them as antecedent to the dawn of civilization amongst us, or as destitute of the spiritual and chivalric features by which in reality some of the subsequent centuries (though not those immediately subsequent) were less distinguished than they. Of the dark ages, in this country, the tenth century was hardly so dark as the fifteenth; and if the aspects of each could be distinctly traced, the civil wars of the Anglo-Saxons would probably excite a deeper interest than struggles such as those of the Houses of York and Lancaster, in which there was no religious and hardly any political principle at stake. Indeed though the three centuries which preceded the Conquest were on the whole less enlightened than the three which followed it, yet the Anglo-Saxon times furnish examples of both the Hero and the Scholar, which the Norman can hardly match ; and perhaps the real distinction between the periods is, that amongst the Anglo-Saxons, learning and ignorance, and rudeness and refinement, co-existed in stronger contrast.
But even when Anglo-Saxon history was less read and otherwise understood than it is now, some interest was always felt in the reign of Elwin the Fair. There was left to us little more than the outline of a tragic story; in some parts, indeed, eren less--for here and there the outline itself is broken and wavering ; but the little that was known was romantic enough to have impressed itself upon the popular mind, and the tale of 'Edwy and Elgiva' had been current in the nursery long before it came to be studied as an historical question,
Edwin's contemporaneous arnalists, being Monks, were his natural enemies; and their enmity is sufficiently apparent in their writings. But notwithstanding all their efforts, and all the influence which the monastic orders undoubtedly possessed over the English populace of the tenth century, there is reason to think that the interest taken in Edwin's story may have dated from his own times. His name having been supplanted by its diminutive ‘Edwy,' seems to indicate a sentiment of tenderness and pity as popularly connected with him from the first; and his surname of “The All-Fair' (given him, says the Monk Ingulphus, “pro nimiâ pulchritudine"), may be construed as a farther indication that the success of the monastic faction in decrying him with the people, was not so complete as the merely political events of his reign might lead us to suppose.
Whilst the details of his story are left, with one or two exceptions, to our imagination, the main course of the struggle in which he was engaged, represents in strong and vivid colours the spirit of the times. It was a spirit which exercises human nature in its highest faculties and deepest feelings—the spirit of religious enthusiasm; a spirit which never fails to produce great men and to give an impulse to the mind of a nation; but one which commonly passes into a spirit of ecclesiastic discord, and which cannot then be cast out without tearing the body. In the tenth century it vented itself in a war of religious opinion.
An apartment leading to an Oratory in the Royal residence at Sheen, As the Scene opens, EDWIN and Elgiva are discovered before the altar in the Oratory,
and RICOLA, the King's Chaplain, is joining their hands. They all three then advance out of the Oratory to the front.
Ricola. So be ye one from this time forth for ever,
My honoured friend,
[Exit R. cola
Into that rosy and celestial clime
How joy fulfilled
My lord, my liege,
At Kingston ?
Edwin. And what saith he? Call him in.
RICOLA goes to the door, and returns with GRIMBALD.
Elgiva. Truce to thy calling for a while, good fool,
By the ears
Elgiva. Earl Athulf ? Where is he?
Grimbald. He stood against Harcather hand to hand
Enter the QUEEN MOTHER.
Edwin. Good mother, speak of what you know. Not here
How spent ? oh, son !
Ricola. Wilt please you to withdraw ?