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English cries. Cross

Harold and Holy Charged with the weight of heaven where

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About the summit of the hill, and heads

And arms are sliver'd off and splinter'd by Their lightning-and they fly-the Norman flies.

Edith. Stigand, O father, have we won the day?

Stigand. No, daughter, no-they fall behind the horse

Their horse are thronging to the barricades ;

I see the gonfanon of Holy Peter

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Against the shifting blaze of Harold's axe!

War-woodman of old Woden, how he fells The mortal copse of faces! There! And there!

The horse and horseman cannot meet the shield,

The blow that brains the horseman cleaves the horse,

The horse and horseman roll along the hill,

Floating above their helmets-ha! he is They fly once more, they fly, the Norman

down!

Edith. He down! Who down?
Stigand. The Norman Count is down.
Edith. So perish all the enemies of
England!

Stigand. No, no, he hath risen again

-he bares his faceShouts something-he points onwardall their horse

Swallow the hill locust-like, swarming

up.

Edith. O God of battles, make his

battle-axe keen

As thine own sharp-dividing justice, heavy As thine own bolts that fall on crimeful heads

flies !

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Stigand. Hot-headed fools-to burst the wall of shields !

They have broken the commandment of the king!

Edith. His oath was broken-O holy
Norman Saints,

Ye that are now of heaven, and see beyond

Your Norman shrines, pardon it, pardon it,

That he forsware himself for all he loved, Me, me and all! Look out upon the battle!

Stigand. They thunder again upon the barricades.

My sight is eagle, but the strife so thickThis is the hottest of it: hold, ash! hold,

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Edith.

They are stripping the dead bodies naked

yonder,

But one woman!

Look you, we never mean to part again.

And thou art come to rob them of their I have found him, I am happy.

rings!

Aldwyth. O Edith, Edith, I have lost

both crown

And husband.

Edith.
Aldwyth.

So have I.

Was there not someone ask'd me for

forgiveness?

I yield it freely, being the true wife
Of this dead King, who never bore revenge.

I tell thee, girl, Enter COUNT WILLIAM and WILLIAM

I am seeking my dead Harold.
Edith.

And I mine!

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MALET.

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Here fell the truest, manliest hearts of Some held she was his wife in secret

England.

Go further hence and find him.

She is crazed!

Aldwyth.
Edith. That doth not matter either.
Lower the light.

He must be here.

Enter two Canons, OSGOD and
ATHELRIC, with torches. They
turn over the dead bodies and
examine them as they pass.

Osgod. I think that this is Thurkill.
Athelric. More likely Godric.
Osgod.

some

Well- -some believed she was his para

mour.

Edith. Norman, thou liest ! liars all

of you,

Your Saints and all! I am his wife! and she

For look, our marriage ring!

[She draws it off the finger of Harold. I lost it somehow

I lost it, playing with it when I was wild. That bred the doubt! but I am wiser now

I am sure this body I am too wise . . . Will none among

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His day, with all his rooftree ringing | Sharpen'd and sent against him—who

'Harold,'

Before he fell into the snare of Guy ;

When all men counted Harold would be king,

And Harold was most happy.

William.

can tell?

Three horses had I slain beneath me:

twice

I thought that all was lost. Since I knew battle,

Thou art half English. And that was from my boyhood, never

Take them away!
Malet, I vow to build a church to God
Here on the hill of battle; let our high
altar

Stand where their standard fell... where
these two lie.

yet

No, by the splendour of God-have I fought men

Like Harold and his brethren, and his guard

Of English. Every man about his king Take them away, I do not love to see Fell where he stood. They loved him :

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BECKET.

TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR,

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EARL OF SELBORNE.

MY DEAR SELBORNE-TO you, the honoured Chancellor of our own day, I dedicate this dramatic memorial of your great predecessor;-which, altho' not intended in its present form to meet the exigencies of our modern theatre, has nevertheless-for so you have assured me-won your approbation.-Ever yours, TENNYSON.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

HENRY II. (son of the Earl of Anjou).

THOMAS BECKET, Chancellor of England, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.
GILBERT FOLIOT, Bishop of London.

ROGER, Archbishop of York.

Bishop of Hereford.

HILARY, Bishop of Chichester.

JOCELYN, Bishop of Salisbury.

JOHN OF SALISBURY

HERBERT OF BOSHAM friends of Becket.

WALTER MAP, reputed author of 'Golias, Latin poems against the priesthood.
KING LOUIS OF FRANCE.

GEOFFREY, son of Rosamund and Henry.

GRIM, a monk of Cambridge.

SIR REGINALD FITZURSE
SIR RICHARD DE BRITO

SIR WILLIAM DE TRACY

SIR HUGH De Morville

the four knights of the King's household, enemies of Becket.

DE BROC OF SALTWOOD Castle.

LORD LEICESTER.

PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.

Two KNIGHT TEMPLARS.

JOHN OF OXFORD (called the Swearer).

ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE, Queen of England (divorced from Louis of France).
ROSAMUND DE CLIFFord.

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