among the Britons. Tenyan bled at his feet: like the red lightning of heaven, he burnt up the ranks of his enemy.

Centwin raged like a wild boar. Tatward sported in blood; armies melted at his stroke. Eldulph was a flaming vapour, destruction sat upon his sword. Ceolwolf was drenched in gore; but fell, like a rock, before the sword of Mervin.

Egward pursued the slayer of his friend; the blood of Mervin smoaked on his hand.

Like the rage of a tempest was the noise of the battle: like the roaring of the torrent, gushing from the brow of the lofty mountain.

The Britons fled; like a black cloud dropping hail, flying before the howling winds.

Ye virgins! arise, and welcome back the pursuers. Deck their brows with chaplets of jewels; spread the branches of the oak beneath their feet. Kenrick is returned from the war! The clotted gore hangs terrible upon his crooked sword, like the noxious vapours on the black rock; his knees are red with the gore of the foe.

Ye sons of the song, sound the instruments of music; ye virgins, dance around him.

• Costan of the Lake, arise! take thy harp from the willow; sing the praise of Kenrick, to the sweet sound of the white waves sinking to the foundation of the black rock.

Rejoice, O ye Saxons! Kenrick is victorious!'

III.

CERDIC K.

TU Cordick, from thy mossy bed; for the noise of the chariots is HE rose-crowned dawn dances on the top of the lofty hill. Arise,

heard in the vallies.

• Ye Saxons, draw the sword; prepare the flying dart of death: swift as the glancing sight, meet the foe upon the brow of the hill, and cast the warriors headlong into the roaring stream.'

The swords of the Saxons appear on the high rock, like the lake of death reflecting the beams of the morning sun.

The Britons begin to ascend the ragged fragments of the shrinking rock thick as the hail in the howling storm, driven down the mountain's side, the son of the tempest, the chariot and the horse roll in confusion to the blood-stained vale.

Sons of war, descend! Let the river be swelled with the smoaking streams of life, and the mountain of the slain ascend to the stars.'

They fall beneath the spear of Cerdick.

Sledda in a flame of fire. Kenbert scatters the never-erring shaft of death. Elle is a tempest; a cloud bursting in blood, a winter's wind blasting the soul: his knees are encircled with life-warm gore, his white robe is like the morning sky. Ceaulin's spear is exalted like the star of the evening; his fallen enemies rise in hills around him.

The actions of Cerdick astonish the soul: the foe is melted from the field, and the gods have lost their sacrifice.

Cerdick leans upon his spear, he sings the praises of the gods. Let the image be filled with the bodies of the dead; for the foe is swept away like the purple bloom of the grape, no more to be seen. The sacred flames ascend the clouds, the warriors dance around it: the evening slowly throws her dusky vałe over the face of the sun.

Cerdick arose in his tent.

Ye sons of war, who shake the silver javelin and the pointed shield, arise from the soft slumbers of the night, assemble to council at the tent of Cerdick,'

From the dark-brown spring, from the verdant top of the impending rock, from the flowery vale, and the coppiced heath, the chiefs of the

war arose.

Graceful as the flower that overlooks the silver stream, the mighty Cerdick stood among the warriors. Attention seals up their lips.

Why will ye sleep, ye Saxons, whilst the hanging mountain of fortune trembles over our heads! Let us gird on the reeking sword, and wrap in flame the town of Doranceastre. Strong, as the foundation of the earth; swift, as the impetuous stream; deadly, as the corrupted air; sudden, as the whirlwind piercing to the hidden bed of the sea; armed in the red lightnings of the storm, will we come upon the foe. Prepare the sword and shield, and follow the descendant of Woden!'

As when the sable clouds incessantly descend in rivers of rain to the wood-crowned hills, the foundation of the ground is loosened, and the forest gently slides to the valley; such was the appearance of the warriors, moving to the city of Doranceastre. Their spears appeared like the stars of the black night, their spreading shields like the evening sky.

Turn your eyes, 0 ye Saxons, to the distant mountain! On the spreading top a company is seen; they are like the locusts of the East, like a dark-brown cloud expanding in the wind. They come down the hills like the stones of hail : the javelin nods over the helm; death sports in their shadows. They are children of Woden. See! the god of battle fans the air; the red sword waves in their banner. Ye sons of battle, wait their approach, let their eyes be feasted with the chaplets of victory.

It is Kenrick! I see the lightning on his shield. His eyes are twe stars; his arm is the arrow of death. He drinks the blood of the foe, as the rays of the summer sun drink the softly stealing brook. He moves like the moon attended by the stars. His blood-stained robe flies round him, like the white clouds of the evening, tinged with the red beams of the sinking sun.

See! the chaplet hangs on his helm: shade him, O ye sons of war, with the pointed shield!'

Kenrick approaches; the shields of the brave hang over his head. He speaks; attention dances on the ear.

Sons of Woden, receive a conquering son! The bodies of the slain rise in mountains; the ashes of the towns choak up the river; the roaring stream of Severn is filled with the slaughtered sons of thunder: the warriors hang upon the cliffs of the red rocks; the mighty men, like the. sacrifice of yesterday, will be seen no more. The briars shall hide the plain; the grass dwell in the desolate habitation; the wolf shall sleep in the palace, and the fox in the temple of the gods: the sheep shall

wander without a shepherd, and the goats be scattered in the high mountains, like the furrows on the bank of the swelling flood. The enemies are swept away; the gods are glutted with blood, and peace arises from the solitary grove.'

Joy wantons in the eye of Cerdick. By the powers that send the tempest, the red lightning, and roaring thunder; by the God of war, whose delight is in blood, and who preys upon the souls of the brave; by the powers of the great deep; I swear, that Kenrick shall sit upon my throne! guide the sanguine spear of war, and the glittering sceptre of peace!'

Cerdick girds his son with the sword of royalty. The warriors dance around him; the clanging shields echo to the distant vales; the fires ascend the skies: the town of Doranceastre increases the flame, and the great image is red with the blood of the captives. The cries of the burning foe are drowned in the songs of joy: the ashes of the image are scattered in the air; the bones of the foe are broken to dust.

Great is the valour of Cerdick, great is the strength of Kenrick.

IV.

GORTHMUND.

HE loud winds whistled through the sacred grove of Thor; far over

cries

howl of Hubba's horrid voice swelled upon every blast, and the shrill shriek of the fair Locabara shot through the midnight-sky.

Gorthmund slept on his couch of purple. The blood of the slain was still on his cruel hand: his helmet was stained with purple, and the banner of his father was no more white. His soul shuddered at the howl of Hubba, and the shrill shriek of Locabara. He shook, like the trembling reed, when the loud tempest rolls the foaming flood over the pointed rocks. Pale was his face as the eglantine, which climbs the branches of the flowery bramble. He started from his couch. His black locks stood upright on his head, like the spears which stand round the tent of the warriors, when the silver moon spangles on the tranquil lake.

Why wilt thou torment me, Hubba? it was not by my hand that the sword drank thy blood. Who saw me plunge the dagger to the heart of Locabara? No! Nardin of the forest was far away. Cease, cease thy shrieks! I cannot bear them. On thy own sword thou hadst thy death; and the fair virgin of the hills fell beneath the rage of the mountains. Leave me, leave me! Witness Hel*, I knew not Locabara;

* Hela, or Hel, was the idol of the Danes; not, as some authors falsely assert, of the Saxons, He was the god of battle and victory. It is worthy remark, that every Pagan deity of the northern nations had his symbol or type, under which he was worshipped. The type of Hel was a black raven: hence the Danish standard was a raven. The symbol of Woden was a dragon; which was the standard of the Saxons in general, and the arms of Wessex.

I forced her not to my embraces! No, I slew her not; she fell by the mountaineers. Leave me, leave me, O soul of Hubba!'

Exmundbert, who bore the silver shield of Gorthmund†, flew from his downy couch, swift as the rumour of a coming host. He struckthe golden cup, and the king of the flying warriors awakened from his dream of terror. Exmundbert, is he gone? Strike the silver shield: call up the sons of battle, who sleep on the mossy banks of Frome. But stay, 'tis all a vision: 'tis over and gone, as the image of Woden, in the evening of a summer-day. Hence to thy tent, I will sleep again.'

Gorthmund doubled his purple robe and slept again.

Loud as the noise of a broken rock down the caverns of Seoggeswaldscyret, was the voice of Hubba heard: sharp as the cry of the bird of death at the window of the wounded warrior, when the red rays of the morning rise breaking from the east, and the soul of the sick is flying away with the darkness, was the shriek of Locabara. Kise from thy couch, Gorthmund, thou wolf of the evening! When the sun shines in the glory of the day; when the labouring swain dances in the woodland shade; when the sparkling stars glimmer in the azure of the night, and contentment sleeps under the rustic roof; thou shalt have no rest. Thine are the bitter herbs of affliction.; for thee shall the wormwood shed its seed on the blossoms of the blooming flower, and imbitter with its falling leaves the waters of the brook. Rise, Gorthmund, rise! the Saxons are burning thy tents: rise! for the Mercians are assembled together; and thy armies will be slain by the sword, or burnt in the image of Tewisk. The god of victory shall be red with thy blood, and they shall shout at the sacrifice. Rise, Gorthwund thy eyes shall be closed in peace no more.'

The king of the swift warriors started from his couch he shook like an oak through which the lightnings have cut their rapid way: his eyes rolled like the lights o on the Saxons, barks, in the tempest of the dark and black night.

Exmunbuert flew to his chief; he struck the silver shield. Sueno of the dark lake, and the black-haired Lecolwin, caught the lance and the shield, and prest into the royal tent.

Warriors, strike the shields of alarm; the Mercians are assembled together, the Saxons are burning our tents. Give the cry of war, and issue to the battle: come upon them by the side of the thick wood, near the city of Reggacesters. Lift the banner Reafan; and he is a worshipper of false gods, who withholds his sword from blood.' The

The office of shield-bearer was very ancient and honourable: the leaders of armies had generally three shield-bearers; one to bear the shield, painted or engraved with the symbol of the god, and the others were employed to sound the shields of alarm.

Scoggeswaldscyre, from Seggeswald, where Ethelbald, the ninth king of the Mercians, and fifteenth monarch of England, was slain in an insurrection of his subjects. This poem is certainly older than Alfred's time; and is, among numerous others, a proof that the division of England into shires was not introduced by that glorious monarch.

The pagan Saxons had a most inhuman custom of burning their captives alive in a wicker image of their god Tewisk. Whilst this horrid sacrifice was performing, they

Shouted and danced round the flames.

Rowcester in Derbyshire, a place of great antiquity.

silver shield resounded to the wood of Sel, and the great island¶

trembled at the clamorous noise.

Delward of the strong arm, and Axbred of the forest of wolves, led the warriors to the thick wood. But quiet was the forest as the tranquil lake, when the winds sleep on the tops of the lofty trees: the inhabitants of Reggacester slept in the strength of their walls. The leaders returned.

There is no enemy near, O king: still as the habitation of the dead, are the kingdoms around us; they have felt the strength of thy arm, and will no more rise up to oppose us. As the grass falls by the hands of the mower, so shall they fall before us, and be no more. The banner Reafan shall be exalted, and the seven gods of the Saxons be trampled in the dust. Let the armies of the north rejoice; let them sacrifice to the gods of war and bring out the prisoners for the feast of blood*.' The warriors threw down the lance, and the shield, and the axe of battle the plates of brass dropped from their shoulders, and they danced to the sound of the instrument of sacrificet. Confused, as the cry of the fleet dogs, when the white bear is pursued over the mountains of the north: confused, as the resolutions of terror, was the noise of the warriors. They danced till the mantle of midnight ascended from the earth.

The morning shook the dew from her crown of roses, on the yellow locks of the dancers; and the gleams of light shot through the dark grey sky, like the reeking blood over the shield of steel.

See, warriors, a dark cloud sits on the mountain's brow; it will be a tempest, at noon, and the heavy rains will fall upon us. Yes, ye Danest, it will be a tempest, but a tempest of war: it will rain, but in showers of blood. For the dark cloud is the army of Segowald: he leads the flower of the warriors of Mercia; and on his right-hand is the mighty son of battle, the great Sigebert, who leads the warriors of Wessex. The dance was ended; and the captives of sacrifice bound to the sacred tree they panted in the pangs of death.

Sudden from the borders of the wood, was the alarm given: and the silver shield rouzed the sun from behind the black clouds. The archers of the sacrifice dropped the bow, and caught the lance and the shield. Confusion spread from watch-tower to watch-tower, and the clamour rung to the distant hills.

Gorthmund raged like a wild boar, but he raged in vain; his whole army was disordered, and the cry of war was mixed with the yell of retreat.

In the original, Muchilney. As there were several islands of this name, the particular one here mentioned is Aubions.

The Danes, not to be behind-hand with the Saxons in acts of barbarity, had also their bloody sacrifices. Their captives were bound to a stake, and shot to death with

arrows.

The word in the original is Regabibol, an instrument of music, used at sacrifices. Ribible, among the Anglo-Saxons, was an instrument not unlike a violin, but played on with the fingers.

In the original, Tanmen, which signifies either Danes or northern men.

A Mercian of this name commanded the army of Offa; and a nobleman named Sigebert, was of great account in the court of Brightrick, King of Essex. X X 2

VOL. II.