We hold our Saxon
woodcock
in the springe,
But he begins to flutter.
But he begins to flutter.
Tennyson
Were such murderous liars
In Wessex--if I caught them, they should hang
Cliff-gibbeted for sea-marks; our sea-mew
Winging their only wail!
GUY. Ay, but my men
Hold that the shipwreckt are accursed of God;--
What hinders me to hold with mine own men?
HAROLD. The Christian manhood of the man who reigns!
GUY. Ay, rave thy worst, but in our oubliettes
Thou shalt or rot or ransom. Hale him hence!
[_To one of his_ ATTENDANTS.
Fly thou to William; tell him we have Harold.
SCENE II. --BAYEUX. PALACE.
COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.
WILLIAM.
We hold our Saxon woodcock in the springe,
But he begins to flutter. As I think
He was thine host in England when I went
To visit Edward.
MALET. Yea, and there, my lord,
To make allowance for their rougher fashions,
I found him all a noble host should be.
WILLIAM. Thou art his friend: thou know'st my claim on England
Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.
And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel,
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
MALET. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?
WILLIAM. What wouldst thou do?
MALET. My lord, he is thy guest.
WILLIAM. Nay, by the splendour of God, no guest of mine.
He came not to see me, had past me by
To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate
Which hunted _him_ when that un-Saxon blast,
And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven
To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd
His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend Guy
Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,
But that I slept between and purchased him,
Translating his captivity from Guy
To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits
My ransom'd prisoner.
In Wessex--if I caught them, they should hang
Cliff-gibbeted for sea-marks; our sea-mew
Winging their only wail!
GUY. Ay, but my men
Hold that the shipwreckt are accursed of God;--
What hinders me to hold with mine own men?
HAROLD. The Christian manhood of the man who reigns!
GUY. Ay, rave thy worst, but in our oubliettes
Thou shalt or rot or ransom. Hale him hence!
[_To one of his_ ATTENDANTS.
Fly thou to William; tell him we have Harold.
SCENE II. --BAYEUX. PALACE.
COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.
WILLIAM.
We hold our Saxon woodcock in the springe,
But he begins to flutter. As I think
He was thine host in England when I went
To visit Edward.
MALET. Yea, and there, my lord,
To make allowance for their rougher fashions,
I found him all a noble host should be.
WILLIAM. Thou art his friend: thou know'st my claim on England
Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.
And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel,
How dense a fold of danger nets him round,
So that he bristle himself against my will.
MALET. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?
WILLIAM. What wouldst thou do?
MALET. My lord, he is thy guest.
WILLIAM. Nay, by the splendour of God, no guest of mine.
He came not to see me, had past me by
To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate
Which hunted _him_ when that un-Saxon blast,
And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven
To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd
His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend Guy
Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,
But that I slept between and purchased him,
Translating his captivity from Guy
To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits
My ransom'd prisoner.
