And when he came to the high cross,
Sir Charles did turn and say,
"O thou, that savest man from sin,
Wash my soul clean this day."
At the great minster window sat
The king in muckle state,
To see Charles Baldwin go along
To his most welcome fate,
Soon as the sled drew nigh enough
That Edward he might hear,
The brave Sir Charles he did stand up,
And thus his words declare:
"Thou seest me, Edward! traitor vile!
Exposed to infamy;
But be assured, disloyal man!
I'm greater now than thee.
By foul proceedings, murder, blood,
Thou wearest now a crown;
And hast appointed me to die,
By power not thine own,
Thou thinkest I shall die to-day;
I have been dead till now,
And soon shall live to wear a crown
For aye upon my brow.
Whilst thou, perhaps for some few years,
Shalt rule this fickle land,
To let them know how wide the rule
'Twixt king and tyrant hand.
Thy power unjust, thou traitor slave!
Shall fall on thy own head."
From out the hearing of the king
Departed then the sled.
King Edward's soul rush'd to his face,
He turn'd his head away,
And to his brother Gloucéster
He thus did speak and say:
"To him that so much dreaded death
Ne ghostly terrors bring:
Behold the man! he spake the truth;
He's greater than a king."
"So let him die!" duke Richard said
"And may each one our foes
Bend down their necks to bloody axe,
And feed the carrion crows."
And now the horses gently drew
Sir Charles up the high hill!
The axe did glister in the sun
His precious blood to spill.
Sir Charles did up the scaffold
As up a gilded car
Of victory by val'rous chiefs
Gained in the bloody war.
And to the people he did say,
"Behold you see me die,
From serving loyally my king,
My king most rightfully.
As long as Edward rules this land,
No quiet you will know;
Your sons and husbands shall be slain,
And brooks with blood shall flow.
You leave your good and lawful king,
When in adversity;
Like me, unto the true cause stick,
And for the true cause die."
Then he with priests, upon his knees,
A prayer to God did make,
Beseeching him unto himself
His parting soul to take.
Then kneeling down, he laid his head
Most seemly on the block;
Which from his body fair at once
The able headsman struck.
And out the blood began to flow,
And round the scaffold twine;
And tears enough to wash 't away,
Did flow from each man's eyen.
The bloody axe his body fair
Into four parties cut;
And every part, and eke his head,
Upon a pole was put.
One part did rot on Kynwulph hill,
One on the minster tower,
And one from off the castle gate
The crowen did devour.
The other on saint Paul's good gate
A dreary spectacle :
His head was placed on the high cross
In high-street most noble.
Thus was the end of Baldwin's fate :
God prosper long our king,
And grant he may, with Baldwin's soul,
In heaven God's mercy sing!
CCLI. REV. GEORGE CRABBE, 1754--1832. 1. THE STORM.
The morn was calm, and e'en till noon the strong
Unruffled flood moved quietly along;
In the dead calm the billows softly fell,
And mock'd the whistling sea-boy's favourite spell; So rests at noon the reaper, but to rise
With mightier force and two-fold energies.
The deep broad stream moved softly, all was hush'd,
When o'er the flood the breeze awakening brush'd :
A sullen sound was heard along the deep,
The stormy spirit rousing from his sleep:
The porpoise, rolling on the troubled wave,
Unwieldy tokens of his pleasure gave:
Dark, chilling clouds the troubled deep deform,
And, led by terror, downward rush'd the storm.
Some figure moves upon the oozy bound,
Where flows the tide-oh! what can he have found,
What lost? and who is he?-The only one
Of the lov'd three-the captain's younger son.
Their boat was fill'd, and sank-he knows no more,
But that he only hardly reach'd the shore.
He saw them swimming, for he once was near,
But he was sinking, and he could not hear;
And then the waves curl'd round him, but at length
He struck upon the boat with dying strength,
And that preserved him: when he turn'd around,
Nought but the dark, wild, billow flood was found;
That flood was all he saw, that flood's the only sound
Save that the angry wind, with ceaseless roar,
Dash'd the wild waves upon the rocky shore.
The brothers met, who many a year had past
Since their last meeting, and that seem'd their last!
They had no parent then, or common friend
Who might their hearts to mutual kindness bend:
Who, touching both in their divided state,
Might generous thoughts and warm desires create:
For there are minds whom we must first excite,
And urge to feeling, ere they can unite :
As we may hard and stubborn metals beat,
And blend together, if we duly heat.
As various colours in a painted ball,
While it has rest, are seen distinctly all;
Till, whirl'd around by some exterior force,
They all are blended in the rapid course;
So in repose, and not by passion sway'd,
We saw the difference by their habits made;
But tried by strong emotions, they became
Fill'd with one love, and were in heart the same:
Joy to the face its own expression sent,
And gave a likeness in the looks it lent.
3. THE DISGRACED CLERK.
In each lone place, dejected and dismayed.
Shrinking from view, his wasting form he laid;
Or to the restless sea and roaring wind
Gave the strong yearnings of a ruin'd mind:
On the broad beach, the silent summer day,
Stretch'd on some wreck, he wore his life away;
Or where the river mingles with the sea,
Or on the mud-bank by the elder tree,
Or by the bounding marsh-dyke, there was he;
And, when, unable to forsake the town,
In the blind courts he sate desponding down,
Always alone-then feebly would he crawl
The church-way walk, and lean upon the wall;
Too ill for this, he lay beside the door,
Compell'd to hear the reasonings of the poor:
He look'd so pale, so weak, the pitying crowd
Their firm belief of his repentance vow'd;
They saw him then so ghastly and so thin,
That they exclaim'd, "Is this the work of sin ?"
"Yes!" in his better moments he replied,
"Of sinful avarice and the spirit's pride;
While yet untempted, I was safe and well,
Temptation came-I reason'd and I fell:
To be man's guide and glory I design'd,
A rare example for our sinful kind :
But now my weakness and my guilt I see,
And am a warning-man, be warned by me."
The whistling boy that holds the plough,
Lured by the tale that soldiers tell,
Resolves to part, yet knows not how
To leave the land he loves so well.
He now rejects the thought, and now
Looks o'er the lea, and sighs "Farewell!"
"Farewell!" the pensive maiden cries,
Who dreams of London, dreams awake,
But, when her favourite lad she spies,
With whom she lov'd her way to take,
Then doubts within her soul arise,
And equal hopes her bosom shake!
Thus, like the boy and like the maid,
I wish to go, yet tarry here,
And now resolved, and now afraid :
To minds disturbed old views appear
In melancholy dreams array'd,
And, once indifferent, now are dear.
How shall I go, my fate to learn?
And, oh! how taught shall I return?
5. THE ALTERED MANSION.
I miss the grandeur of the rich old scene,
And see not what these clumps and patches mean:
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