HAROLD (_bitterly_). With a love Pa.s.sing thy love for Griffyth! wherefore now Obey my first and last commandment. Go!

ALDWYTH. O Harold! husband! Shall we meet again?

HAROLD. After the battle--after the battle. Go.

ALDWYTH. I go. (_Aside_.) That I could stab her standing there!

[_Exit_ ALDWYTH.

EDITH. Alas, my lord, she loved thee.

HAROLD. Never! never!

EDITH. I saw it in her eyes!

HAROLD. I see it in thine.

And not on thee--nor England--fall G.o.d's doom!

EDITH. On _thee?_ on me. And thou art England! Alfred Was England. Ethelred was nothing. England Is but her king, and thou art Harold!

HAROLD. Edith, The sign in heaven--the sudden blast at sea-- My fatal oath--the dead Saints--the dark dreams-- The Pope's Anathema--the Holy Rood That bow'd to me at Waltham--Edith, if I, the last English King of England--

EDITH. No, First of a line that coming from the people, And chosen by the people--

HAROLD. And fighting for And dying for the people--

EDITH. Living! living!

HAROLD. Yea so, good cheer! thou art Harold, I am Edith!

Look not thus wan!

EDITH. What matters how I look?

Have we not broken Wales and Norseland? slain, Whose life was all one battle, incarnate war, Their giant-king, a mightier man-in-arms Than William.

HAROLD. Ay, my girl, no tricks in him-- No b.a.s.t.a.r.d he! when all was lost, he yell'd, And bit his shield, and dash'd it on the ground, And swaying his two-handed sword about him, Two deaths at every swing, ran in upon us And died so, and I loved him as I hate This liar who made me liar. If Hate can kill, And Loathing wield a Saxon battle-axe--

EDITH. Waste not thy might before the battle!

HAROLD. No, And thou must hence. Stigand will see thee safe, And so--Farewell. [_He is going, but turns back_.

The ring thou darest not wear.

I have had it fashion'd, see, to meet my hand.

[HAROLD _shows the ring which is on his finger_.

Farewell! [_He is going, but turns back again_.

I am dead as Death this day to ought of earth's Save William's death or mine.

EDITH. Thy death!--to-day!

Is it not thy birthday?

HAROLD. Ay, that happy day!

A birthday welcome! happy days and many!

One--this! [_They embrace_.

Look, I will bear thy blessing into the battle And front the doom of G.o.d.

NORMAN CRIES (_heard in the distance_).

Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

_Enter_ GURTH.

GURTH. The Norman moves!

HAROLD. Harold and Holy Cross!

[_Exeunt_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.

_Enter_ STIGAND.

STIGAND. Our Church in arms--the lamb the lion--not Spear into pruning-hook--the counter way-- Cowl, helm; and crozier, battle-axe. Abbot Alfwig, Leofric, and all the monks of Peterboro'

Strike for the king; but I, old wretch, old Stigand, With hands too limp to brandish iron--and yet I have a power--would Harold ask me for it-- I have a power.

EDITH. What power, holy father?

STIGAND. Power now from Harold to command thee hence And see thee safe from Senlac.

EDITH. I remain!

STIGAND. Yea, so will I, daughter, until I find Which way the battle balance. I can see it From where we stand: and, live or die, I would I were among them!

CANONS _from Waltham (singing without)_.

Salva patriam Sancte Pater, Salva Fili, Salva Spiritus, Salva patriam, Sancta Mater.[1]

[Footnote 1: The _a_ throughout these Latin hymns should be sounded broad, as in 'father.']

EDITH. Are those the blessed angels quiring, father?

STIGAND. No, daughter, but the canons out of Waltham, The king's foundation, that have follow'd him.

EDITH. O G.o.d of battles, make their wall of shields Firm as thy cliffs, strengthen their palisades!

What is that whirring sound?

STIGAND. The Norman arrow!

EDITH. Look out upon the battle--is he safe?

STIGAND. The king of England stands between his banners.

He glitters on the crowning of the hill.

G.o.d save King Harold!