Page:Andromeda, and other poems - Kingsley (1858).djvu/96

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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?
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