Andromeda, and Other Poems/The Swan-Neck
THE SWAN-NECK.
EVIL sped the battle playOn the Pope Calixtus' day;Mighty war-smiths, thanes and lords,In Senlac slept the sleep of swords.Harold Earl, shot over shield,Lay along the autumn weald;Slaughter such was never noneSince the Ethelings England won. Thither Lady Githa came,Weeping sore for grief and shame;How may she her first-born tell?Frenchmen stript him where he fell,Gashed and marred his comely face;Who can know him in his place? Up and spake two brethren wise,'Youngest hearts have keenest eyes;Bird which leaves its mother's nest,Moults its pinion, moults its crest.Let us call the Swan-neck here,She that was his leman dear,She shall know him in this stound;Foot of wolf, and scent of hound,Eye of hawk, and wing of dove,Carry woman to her love.' Up and spake the Swan-neck high,'Go! to all your thanes let cryHow I loved him best of all,I whom men his leman call;Better knew his body fairThan the mother which him bare.When ye lived in wealth and gleeThen ye scorned to look on me;God hath brought the proud ones lowAfter me afoot to go.' Housing erne and sallow glede,Housing grey wolf off his feed,Over franklin, earl, and thane,Heaps of mother-naked slain,Round the red field tracing slow,Stooped that Swan-neck white as snowNever blushed nor turned away,Till she found him where he lay;Clipt him in her armés fair,Wrapt him in her yellow hair,Bore him from the battle-stead,Saw him laid in pall of lead,Took her to a minster high,For Earl Harold's soul to cry.
Thus fell Harold, bracelet-giver;Jesu rest his soul for ever;Angles all from thrall deliver;Miserere Domine.