SCENE III.-AFTER THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD-BRIDGE. BANQUET.

HAROLD and ALDWYTH. GURTH, LEOFWIN, MORCAR, EDWIN, and other Earls and Thanes.

VOICES.

Hail! Harold! Aldwyth! hail, bridegroom and bride!

ALDWYTH (talking with HAROLD).

Answer them thou!

Is this our marriage-banquet? Would the wines

Of wedding had been dash'd into the cups

Of victory, and our marriage and thy glory

Been drunk together! these poor hands but sew,

Spin, broider-would that they were man's to have

held

The battle-axe by thee!

HAROLD.

There was a moment

When being forced aloof from all my guard,

And striking at Hardrada and his madmen

I had wish'd for any weapon.

ALDWYTH.

Why art thou sad?

HAROLD.

I have lost the boy who play'd at ball with me,
With whom I fought another fight than this

Of Stamford-bridge.

ALDWYTH.

Ay! ay! thy victories

Over our own poor Wales, when at thy side

He conquer'd with thee.

HAROLD.

That cannot strike again.

No-the childish fist

ALDWYTH.

Thou art too kindly.

Why didst thou let so many Norsemen hence?
Thy fierce forekings had clench'd their pirate hides
To the bleak church doors, like kites upon a
barn.

HAROLD.

Is there so great a need to tell thee why?

Full thanks for your fair greeting of my bride!
Earls, Thanes, and all our countrymen! the day,

Our day beside the Derwent will not shine

Less than a star among the goldenest hours

Of Alfred, or of Edward his great son,

Or Athelstan, or English Ironside

Who fought with Knut, or Knut who coming Dane

Died English. Every man about his king

Fought like a king; the king like his own man,

No better; one for all, and all for one,

One soul! and therefore have we shatter'd back

The hugest wave from Norseland ever yet
Surged on us, and our battle-axes broken

The Raven's wing, and dumb'd his carrion croak
From the gray sea for ever. Many are gone-
Drink to the dead who died for us, the living

Who fought and would have died, but happier

lived,

If happier be to live; they both have life

In the large mouth of England, till her voice

Die with the world. Hail-hail!

MORCAR.

May all invaders perish like Hardrada!

All traitors fail like Tostig!

[All drink but HAROLD.

ALDWYTH.

Thy cup's full!

HAROLD.

I saw the hand of Tostig cover it.

Our dear, dead, traitor-brother, Tostig, him

Reverently we buried. Friends, had I been here, Without too large self-lauding I must hold

The sequel had been other than his league

With Norway, and this battle. Peace be with

him!

He was not of the worst. If there be those