“The veriest rascal in Normandy now
“Is lord of the island of Britain;
“A tailor from Bayeux with golden spurs
“We saw as gay as a kitten.
“Woe, woe to the man of Saxon birth!
“Ye Saxon sainted ones even,
“Ye had better take care, ye’re not safe from disgrace,
“E’en now in the kingdom of heaven.
“The meaning now we can understand
“Of the blood-red comet which lately
“On a broomstick of fire rode through the sky
“One night, and astonish’d us greatly.
“At Hastings there was realized
“The evil star’s prediction;
“Amongst the dead on the battle-field there
“We sought with deep affliction.
“Till every hope had disappear’d
“We sought in each direction;
“The corpse of King Harold, we grieve to say,
“Escaped our close inspection.”
’Twas thus that Asgod and Ailrik spoke;
His hands wrung the Abbot, while moan’d he
Then sank in deep thought, and finally said,
As heavily sigh’d and groan’d he:
“At Grendelfield, by the bards’ old stone,
“In a hut in the forest, is dwelling
“Her whom they Edith the Swanneck call,
“In beauty once so excelling.
“They call’d her Edith the Swanneck erst,
“Because her neck in its splendour
“Resembled the neck of the swan; the king
“Loved the maid with affection tender.
“He loved, kiss’d, fondled her long, and then
“Forgot, like a faithless lover;
Time’s fleeting on, full sixteen years
“Have since those days pass’d over.
“Now, brethren, go to this woman straight,
“And bid her return with you quickly
“To Hastings; her eye will discover the king
“‘Mid the corpses scatter’d so thickly.