"Nay, what so politic in Mercia's king88
As on that throne a son-in-law to place?"
While thus they saw their birds upon the wing
Ere hatched the egg,—as is the common case
With large capacious minds, the natural heirs
Of that vast property—the things not theirs!
In comes a herald—comes with startling news:89
"A Saxon chief has anchor'd in the bay,
From Mercia's king ambassador, and sues
The royal audience ere the close of day."
The wise old men upon each other stare,
"While monarchs counsel, thus the saints prepare,"
Astutio murmur'd, with a pious smile.90
"Admit the noble Saxon," quoth the King.
The two laugh out, and rub their palms, the while
The herald speeds the ambassador to bring;
And soon a chief, fair-hair'd, erect, and tall,
With train and trumpet, strides along the hall.
Upon his wrist a falcon, bell'd, he bore;91
Leash'd at his heels six bloodhounds grimly stalk'd;
A broad round shield was slung his breast before;
The floors reclang'd with armour as he walk'd;
He gained the dais; his standard-bearer spread
Broadly the banner o'er his helmèd head,
And thrice the tromp his blazon'd herald woke,92
And hail'd Earl Harold from the Mercian king.
Full on the Vandal gazed the earl, and spoke:
"Greeting from Crida, Woden's heir, I bring,
And these plain words:—'The Saxon's steel is bare,
Red harvests wait it—will the Vandal share?
"'Hengist first chased the Briton from the vale;93
Crida would hound the Briton from the hill;
Stern hands have loosed the Pale Horse on the gale;
The Horse shall halt not till the winds are still.
Be ours your foemen,—be your foemen shown,
And we in turn will smite them as our own.
"'We need allies—in you allies we call;94
Your shores oppose the Cymrian's mountain sway;
Your armèd men stand idle in your hall;
Your vessels rot within your crowded bay:
Send three full squadrons to the Mercian bands—
Send seven tall war-ships to the Cymrian lands.
"'If this you grant, as from the old renown95
Of Vandal valour, Saxon men believe,
Our arms will solve all question to your crown;
If not, the heirs you banish we receive;
But one rude maxim Saxon bluntness knows—
We serve our friends, who are not friends are foes!
"'Thus speaks King Crida.'" Not the manner much96
Of that brief speech wise Ludovick admired;
But still the matter did so nearly touch
The great state-objects recently desired,
That the sage brows dismiss'd in haste the frown,
And lips sore-smiling gulp'd resentment down.
Fair words he gave, and friendly hints of aid,97
And pray'd the envoy in his halls to rest;
And more, in truth, to please the earl had said,
But that the sojourn of the earlier guest
(For not the parting of the Cymrian known)
Forbade his heart too plainly to be shown.