Carmen (Morton and Muntz)
O what uproar suddenly arose from that place, as seamen sought their oars and knights their weapons! Thence, sounding and resounding, a thousand trumpets blared different calls, together with pipes and reed-pipes, harps and citherns; drums filled the air with the bellowings of bulls, the clear-ringing cymbals alternated their measures. The earth shook, heaven quivered, and the stunned sea lay wonder-stricken. The beasts fled, and the birds and fish as well, for indeed a hundred and fifty thousand conflicting voices struck the firmament.
But you sought the church of Saint-Valery; then with offerings made, you hastened to your ship. And by the sounding of a trumpet you ordered the rest to leave the coast and put out in safety to the deeps of the ocean. The vessels, till then made fast to the shore, cast off and stood out to sea in ordered formation. Already the day was waning, already the setting sun was low, when your ship, racing ahead, set the course.
But when gloomy night overcast the heavens with shades of darkness and the hidden moon denied you her service, you filled the wavcs with the ruddy glow of torches, even as stars replenish the sky when the sun has gone. Distributing as many lights as there were ships [missing line]. By their strong beams lanterns set on the masts guided the sails on a straight course over the sea. But fearful lest the dark night cause your men losses, lest the wind blowing contrary should roughen the water, you ordered the ships to hecave to, held by the fluked anchors; you made a harbour appear in the nidst of the open sea. And you passed word to strike sail and await the coming day, so that your wearied people might find rest.
But after rosy dawn brightened the lands and the sun cast his Deans over the world, you gave command to set course and make sail, ordering that the vessels should weigh anchor. When you reached safe landing-places, leaving the sea astern, the third hour of day was rising over the earth-and blazing from heaven the streaming hair of a comet proclaimed to the English foreordained destruction.
Robbed of her terrified inhabitants, the land destined for you joyfully received you and yours in a calm bay; for Harold, the wicked king, was preparing treacherous weapons for a brother's destruction at the farthest end of the land, because this brother having gained no small part of the kingdom-was putting houses to the torch and people to the sword. Rushing upon the enemy in arms. Harold did not fear to do his brother to death. Each waged on the other a worse than civil war, but he, alas, was victor. That envious Cain hewed off his brother's head, and thus he buried head and body in the earth. He who subdued the destined realms foresaw this mission for you: that you should go as the avenger of
a violent crime.
Fearing to lose the ships, you surrounded them with earthworks and guarded the shores. You restored the dismantled forts which had stood there formerly and set custodians to hold them. Having gained control, though over no great space, your people attacked
the region, laid it waste, and burnt it with fire. Small wonder, for the foolish folk denied that you were king! Therefore they perished justly and went to destruction.
One of the English, lying hidden close to a sea-rock, perceived how the countless ranks spread far and wide and saw that the fields glittered, full of glancing arms. He saw the people, their homes ravaged by flames for their perfidy, perish by the raging sword, and what tears the children shed for their fathers' slaughter. He ran to mount a horse and sped to tell the king.
The king was returning from battle, laden with rich spoils. The messenger rushed to meet him and poured out the tale he bore in this way: 'O king, truly I bring you fearful news! The duke of the Normans, with Frenchmen and Bretons, has invaded the land; he is ravaging and burning. If you ask how many thousands he has, no one will be able to tell you. He has as many knights as there are fish in the sea, and you could no more number his ranks than the stars of heaven. He is seizing boys and girls, and the widows also; and at the same time all the beasts.'
Thus the country fellow reported. The king called him to his side;' although he feared this news, he feigned to desire it. He himself summoned to him the captains, the lords and great men of the land, and is said to have addressed them in such words as these: 'Leaders of my army, sprung from great forebears, to whom the only shame is not to conquer in war: Through you we have overthrown the enemies that Norway sent, and through you we have
laid low our namesake (and) him whom (our) mother's breast nourished with its own milk. My guard, my help, and my defence, you have heard that the Normans have entered our kingdom, pundering, robbing, and despoiling! William does this, because he seeks to subject you to himself. He has a great name, but a queasy stomach! He is cunning and avaricious and arrogant beyond measure; he knows neither peace nor how to keep faith. He is striving to seize what is ours, if he can do it easily. But this Almighty God will not suffer! How great will be the grief, how great the anguish and how mighty the shame, what kingdom, ruin for the how dark a day, if William gain what he seeks-if he shall wield the sceptre of the realm! May all shun this who wish to live.'
Having spoken, Harold sought answer from his men. Silent, they searched for words; straightway a shout arose that struck the stars, and there was but one voice among them all: 'We would have war sooner than bow our necks to the yoke of another king; nay, more, rather die!'
Exulting, the foolish king returned them thanks, and in addition put forward this one suggestion: 'It is fitting that we first send him envoys, to tell him to withdraw, so please him. If he wishes to enter into a peace-pact with us, by your counsel I shall not be the
one to refuse. If otherwise, however, he will not leave my shores at his own choice. Let him cease what he is about, let him look for kingdoms beyond the sea!'
By common consent of the great men and also the lowly, a monk prudent in speech was chosen, to spy out the duke's camp and carefully report the words entrusted to him. On the king's orders, he hastened his journey by riding a horse.
The duke was in camp; entering, the monk said this: 'As matters are now, it is necessary that you leave our land! The king and the nobles (who also hold rights in the kingdom) command you to withdraw immediately. They wonder at what rumour reports of you, that you are bringing the country to destruction wantonly. Give up the prisoners and whatever you have seized by force! The king forgives other injuries if you wish; he makes allowance for your years, for the inconstancy of your nature, for the alliance that once existed. But if you refuse, or if you delay in returning what is his, he directs the war in person--therefore you had best take care! He himself can hardly hold back his soldiers and the people, it is a race that brookS no restrant. Now as the Lord is my witness, he has twelve hundred thousand fighting-men who thirst for battle!
With such charges levelled against him the appearance of the lion was changed and the duke-the epitome ot heroic virtues and an intrepid knight-Judging whatever the foolish monk had told him to be worthless, proved the threats empty. "The words of your
king, he said, 'are not those of a wise man; he could not possibly hide at a distance! Let him savour this: I have passed boyhood, nor have I wantonly attacked the realms due to me, the former rulers being dead. The pact of our alliance he wickedly annuls while he unjustly holds what lawfully would have been mine. His counsel that I should return is insanity, the height of madness; the season, indeed, and the difficult voyage forbid it. Though he
threaten to wage war undeservedly, my people, trusting in the Lord, will not fly! Does he not know what secret oaths he falsely swore to me, nor recall in his heart that he was once my man? If his perjured hand does not recoil condemned, none the less it is defendant now before the Divine Tribunal. If he seek peace, if he be willing to confess his transgressions, I shall be swift to pardon, condoning his crimes. The fief his father once held, this I shall
restore to him, if he is willing to be my vassal now as he was formerly.
The monk hastened his journey back; the duke prepared for battle, he knew Harold's intent and also his craft. Strengthening the hearts of his men, he admonished and inspired them: 'O you whom France famed for nobility has bred, chivalroust warriors, renowned young men whom God himself chooses and whom he favours, whose lasting and unconquered name for valour resounds through the four quarters of the world: And you, race of the
Bretons, whose honour shines forth in arms, for whom-unless the earth itself should fee away-there is no flight: You men of Maine, illustrious for strength, whose glory in war is shown by mighty prowess: Apulian and Calabrian, Sicilian, whose darts fly in swarms: Normans, ripe for incomparable achievements! The false, infamous, and perjured king and adulterer is devising and laying snares for us. Indeed, it is his wont to conquer by cunning,
not by strength, and pledging faith with his lips he offers destruction. Therefore we should take care not to be deceived by him, lest we become a laughing-stock, a show before the people! We command you for this reason to guard the camp, so that that wicked
thief may not break in. But tomorrow, if it seem meet and right to you, let us send Harold -- in return for him whom he sent to bear windy lies to me! -- an envoy ready to give word for word; one who shall little fear him. There is a monk of ours, by no means less outspoken
than the other and yielding to none in the art of oratory; bold enough to be a noted standard-bearer, did not the Holy Rule forbid. If it please you, let this man bear my words.'
He spoke and it was done, the plan was put in action. The monk was summoned and without delay he took the road.
Meanwhile the king -- the abode and heir of dark deception, active in the craft of a thief -- ordered his lines to arm under cover of darkness and further commanded that if they could do it they should surprise the duke's forces on the march. He counted on overthrowing the watchful enemy by stratagems, but while he sought to deceive, he was himself deceived and rushed to destruction; because the duke, having sent the envoy, showed himself most vigilant and was alive to his opponent's cunning.
The messenger, turning aside through the wilds of the country, approached the place where the king, unaware, was devising his schemes. 'Fitting jobs salutations, O king,' he said, 'on the part of the duke, whom you are unjustly compelling to enter on an evil course! This he does because many bear witness and he himself asserts that King Edward, with the assent of the people and by counsel of the nobles, promised and decreed that William should succeed
him as his heir; and you were supporting him. In token, a ring and a sword were granted him, which you know to have been sent to him through you. Therefore it is right that faith be kept, the oaths upheld, and your right hand is bound by sacred knots. Accordingly,
it behoves you to see that perjuries may not harm you and to honour your oaths that you may rest secure.'
Harold, his face distorted, throwing back his head, said to the envoy: 'Give place, fool! Tomorrow, with the Lord as arbiter of the kingdom, the rightful claimant will appear. The holy hand of the Lord will deal justly The messenger, retracing his path through the wilds, bore back abusive words for him who had sent him. The duke-royal virtue, peace, and glory of the kingdom ! going ahead, advancing before his lines, called in the knights and
summarily compelled them to fall back, and with a lance he made them readily assemble in close order; the envoy's face was robbed of its natural ruddy hue and his pallor showed the battle to be imminent.
The duke said: Where is the king?' Not far off,' answered the monk. He said to him in his ear: 'You can see the standards! I bear many words which I hold unfit to be repeated, yet I will report what it would be harmful to conceal. He hopes to be able to take you by surprise; by sea and by land he is planning great battles. He is said to have sent five hundred ships to sea to hinder our voyage back. Where he goes he leads forests (of spears) into the open country, and he makes the rivers through which he passes run dry! Perhaps you fear the number? But the greater number lacking greater strength often retires worsted by very few. He has champions with combed anointed hair, effeminate young men, sluggish in the art of war; whatever their number, they may be likened to as many sheep, or to foxes terrified by a thunderbolt. Remember your ancestors, great duke, and may you achieve what your grandfather and your father achieved! Your forefather subdued the Normans, your grandfather the Bretons, your sire laid the neck of the English under the yoke. And what will you do, planning greater things, if not follow them through abundance of valour?'
He kept silence for a little and then, causing himself to delay there, he drew up the armed ranks by a command. He dispatched the foot in advance to open the battle with arrows, and set crossbow- men in the midst so that their speeding shafts might pierce the faces of the English (these wounds given, they might fall back). He hoped to establish the knights in the rear of the foot but the onset of the battle did not allow this; for he perceived companies of the English appearing not far off and could see the forest glitter, full of spears.
O Mars god of war, who curbest kingdoms by the sword, to whom the gory corpses of striplings are acceptable and the shed- ding of men's blood in manifold slaughter, what then was thy intent, how great thy thirst for evil, when in their midst thou wert ordering the fierce ranks to join battle ? No destruction gave thee more delight since Julius overcame Pompey in arms, stole the Roman citadel for himself, and forced his enemy in base fear to
cross the sea-never, I think, was bloodshed more grateful to thee. Neither the grace of youth nor the venerability of age, neither the mean and pitiable multitude of common soldiers nor nobility of birth, could turn thee from doing what thy grim spirit desired. Thou didst force the blinded wretches into glittering armour and madest them come to death as to a game! Why toy with words when already Madness appears in arms ? Perform
thy will, Mars, do the work of Death!
Suddenly the forest poured forth troops of men, and from the hiding-places of the woods a host dashed forward.! There was a hill near the forest and a neighbouring valley and the ground was untilled because of its roughness. Coming on in massed order-the English custom-they seized possession of this place for the battle. (A race ignorant of war, the English scorn the solace of horses and trusting in their strength they stand fast on foot; and they count it the highest honour to die in arms that their native soil may not pass under another yoke.)
Preparing to meet the enemy, the king mounted the hill and strengthened both his wings with noble men. On the highest point of the summit he planted his banner, and ordered his other standards to be set up. All the men dismounted and left their horses in the rear,
and taking their stand on foot they let the trumpets sound for battle. The humble and God-fearing duke led a more measured advance and courageously approached the steeps of the hill. The foot soldiers ran ahead to engage the enemy with arrows (against crossbow-bolts shields are of no avail!). The helmeted warriors hastened to close ranks; on both sides the foemen raged with Drandished spears. As a wild boar standing wearied by the hounds defends himself with his tusks and with foaming jaws scorns to submit to weapons, fearing neither his opponent nor the spears that threaten death, so the great throng of the English contended dauntlessly. Meantime, while the battle hung in ominous suspense and the dread scourge of death in war was pending, a player, whom his most valiant soul greatly ennobled, rode out before the countless army of the duke. He heartened the men of France and terrified the English, and, tossing his sword high, he sported with it. A certain Englishman, when he saw a lone man out of so many thousands move off at a distance, juggling with his sword, was fired with the ardour proper to a soldier's heart-heedless of life, he sprang forward to meet his death. The mummer, surnamed Taillefer,' as soon as he had been reached, pricked his horse with the spurs; he pierced the Englishman's shield with his keen lance and hewed the head from the prostrate body with his sword. Turning his eyes
on his comrades, he displayed this trophy and showed that the beginning of the battle favoured them. All rejoiced and at the same time called upon the Lord.a They exulted that the first blow was theirs, both a tremor and a thrill ran through brave hearts and at
once the men hastened to close shields.
First the bands of archers attacked and from a distance transfixed bodies with their shafts and the crossbow-men destroyed the shields as if by a hail-storm, shattered them by countless Now the French attacked blows. the left, the Bretons the right; the duke With the Normans fought in the centre. The English stood firm on their ground in the closest order. They met missile with missile, Sword-stroke with sword-stroke; bodies could not be laid down, nor did the dead give place to living soldiers, for each corpse though lifeless stood as if unharmed and held its post; nor would the attackers have been able to penetrate the dense forest of Englishmen had not guile reinforced their strength.
The French, versed in stratagems, skilled in warfare, pretended to fly as if defeated. The English peasantry' rejoiced and believed they had won; they pursued in the rear with naked swords. (The unwounded gone, the maimed sank down and the once dense wood
was thinned!) When they saw that the ground was weakening the duke's left wing, that a wide road lay open for penetrating the right, charging headlong, each wing of the English vied to be first to slaughter the scattered enemy in various ways. But those who feigned flight wheeled on the pursuers and forced them, held in check, to flee from death. A great part fell there (but the part in close order stood fast), for indeed ten thousand suffered destruction in that place. As meek sheep fall before the ravening lion, so the accursed rabble went down, fated to die. But the very powerful force that survived in the battles attacked more furiously and counted their losses nothing. The English people, prevailing by
their number, repulsed the enemy and by their might compelled him to turn-and then the flight which had first been a ruse became enforced by valour. The Normans fled, their shields covered their backs!
When the duke saw his people retreat vanquished, he rushed to confront the rout. He rebuked and felled them with his hand, and with his spear he checked and marshalled them. Raging, he himself bared his head of the helmet. To the Normans he showeda furious countenance-to the French he spoke words of entreaty: 'Where are you flying? Where does it avail you to go to die? O France, nobler than all the kingdoms of the ecarth,-you, who had been the victor-how can you bear to be seen vanquished? You fly from sheep, not men, and fear without cause; what you are doing is most shameful! The sea lies behind: the sea-voyage back is formidable, wind and weather against you. It is hard to return home, hard and long the voyage; here no way of escape remains for you! You will fight to conquer, if you want only to live!'i He spoke, and at once their faces grew red with shame. They whecleda they turned to face the enemy. The duke, as leader, was the first to strike; after
him the rest laid on. Coming to their senses, they regained strength by scorning fear. As stubble consumes in flames before the breath of the wind, so, O English horde, you went to destruction before the French. At the appearance of the duke the trembling host fell back, as soft wax melts away in face of fire. With drawn sword he hewed to pieces helms and shields, and even his war-horse slew many.
Harold's brother, Gyrth by name, born of a royal line, was undaunted by the face of the lion; poising a javelin, he hurled it from afar with a strong arm. The flying weapon wounded the body of the horse and forced the duke to fight on foot; but reduced to a footsoldier,
he fought yet better, for he rushed upon the young man iake a snarling lion. Hewing him limb from limb, he shouted to hurn: "Take the crown you have earned from us! If my horse is dead, thus I requite you as a common soldier!'
He spoke, and wheeled round to the melée which had instantly sprung up around him; with the strength of Hercules he withstood his opponents. Some he maimed, some he mutilated, some the word devoured, very many souls he sent to darkness. When he saw a knight of Maine riding through the slaughter, he signed to him with a sword dyed with brains and gore to come to his aid. But he, dreading to be cut down, refused to save him-terrified
of death as a hare betore a hound! The duke, líke a resourceful warrior, suddenly turned upon him;' seizing him furiously by the nasal of the helmet, he tumbled him head over heels to the ground, and rushed to mount the horse thus left to him.
O Ruler of Heaven, thou who art tender and pitiful towards us and by divine will rulest all things, what destruction the surviving band of English suffered! Then pity died and cruelty triumphed, life perished, savage death raged, and the sword ran wild! Where
Mars holds sway, no man shows mercy!
When the duke was horsed, he then assailed the enemy more strongly; he attacked, he struck like lightning, he pursued. As he strove to win, as he dyed the field with the blood of the slain, the son of Helloc, a swift and able man, lay in wait, meaning to kill him. But when the javelin was cast, the horse received the blow. It fell to the ground, and the duke was on foot and filled with rage! He wondered how he could defend himself or what to do, for he
was stunned to have been robbed of two horses in a single encounter. For a moment this left him confounded, then he made light of it; he judged that with courage Fortune would smile on him and further his vows without deceit. Therefore he swore that if his right hand had not lost its cunning, the death of his horse should not go unavenged! Seeing the author of the crime lurking at a distance in the press, he rushed forthwith to destroy him. Cutting
through his groin with a thrust of his right hand and a merciless Sword-stroke, he spilt his entrails on the ground. And then Count Eustace, sprung from noble ancestors, surrounded by a great band of warriors, hastened to be held first to the duke's aid and became a foot-soldier so that he might depart mounted There was a certain knight whom the count had reared; what Eustace had done for his commander, that man did for him.
Under such auspices, the count and the duke, joining forces, renewed the battle together wherever the clashing arms glittered most brightly. By the swords of both the field was cleared of English, and a number deserted, tottering and exhausted. As a waning wood falls to the stroke of the axe, so the forest of Englishmen was brought to nothing. Now the victor, joyful France almost ruled the field; already she was seeking the spoils of war! when the duke sighted the king far off on the steeps of the hill, fiercely hewing to pieces the Normans who were besetting him. He called Eustace to him; leaving the conflict in that place to the French, he brought stronng aid to those hard pressed. Like a second son of Hector, Hugh, the noble heir of Ponthieu, escorted these two, prompt in service fourth was Giffard, known by his father's surname: these four bore arms for the destruction of the king. Yet there were many others? These were better than the rest! If anyone doubts this, the true course of the action proves it, for by measureless slaughter Harold was forcing the masters of the field to go the way of (all) flesh. The first, cleaving his breast through the shield with his
point, drenched the earth with a gushing torrent of blood; the second smote off his head below the protection of the helmet and the third pierced the inwards of his belly with his lance; the fourth hewed off his thigh and bore away the severed limb:! the ground held the body thus destroyed.
The flying rumour 'Harold is dead!' spread through the fray and forthwith proud hearts were tamed by fear. The English refused battle. Vanquished, they besought mercy; despairing of life, they fled from death. 'Two thousand in number the duke sent to Hades then, not counting the other thousands beyond telling. It was evening; already the wheeling heavens were turning day to twilight when God made the duke the victor. Only darkness and flight through the thickets and coverts of the deep forest availed the defeated English. The conqueror, resting meanwhile, passed the night among the dead and waited till day should return. Ever vigilant, the son of Hector pursued the fleeing with slaughter; Mars served as his squire, death raged, his comrade. Till it was fully day he spent the night in varying contflict, not overcome by sleep, nor suffering himself to dream.
After the glorious light of the sun began to shine and cleanse the world of brooding darkness, the duke surveyed the field, and taking up the bodies of his fallen, he buried them in the bosom of the earth. The corpses of the English, strewn upon the ground, he left
to be devoured by worms and wolves, by birds and dogs. Harold's dismembered body he gathered together, and wrapped what he had gathered in fine purple linen; and returning to his camp by the sea, he bore it with him, that he might carry out the customary funeral rites.
The mother of Harold, in the toils of overwhelming grief, sent even to the duke himself, asking with entreaties that he would restore to her, unhappy woman, a widow and bereft of three sons, the bones of one in place of the three; or, if it pleased him, she would outweigh the body in pure gold. But the duke, infuriated, utterly rejected both petitions, swearing that he would sooner entrust the shores of that very port to him-under a heap of stones! Therefore, even as he had sworn, he commanded the body to be buried in the earth on the high summit of a cliff; and forthwith a certain man, part Normnan, part English, Harold's comradie willingly did his behest; for he swiftly took up the king's body and buried it, setting over it a stone, and he wrote as epitaph: By the duke's cornmands, O Harold, you rest here a king, That you may still be guardian of the shore and sea.' The duke, lamenting amidst his people over the buried bones, distributed alms to the poor of Christ. And with the name of duke laid aside, and the king being thus interred, he departed frorn that place, having hirnself assumed the royal title.
For a fortnight William remained in the camp at the port of Hastings and from there he directed his march towards Dover; nor had he completed half the distance when the people, terrified, came to meet him in submission. They both offered the keys of the
stronghold and declared the gates open, pretending they wished to be subject to him. (In that place there is a lofty height, a narrow sea, an overshadowed strand. From here enemies most readily attack the English realms, but the castle of Dover, looming from the height, beats off assailants and protects the shores.)