Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene I.] THE VARANGIAN. 397
Eternal war with Normans ;
and that vow
Have I in eastern climes performed beneath
Durazzo's lofty bulwarks, till I drove
The Apulian Normans, by fierce Guiscard led,
Back to the Italian shores. () Thy Barons, too,
Can testify how well I have fulfilled
That vow on English ground ;
nor will I break it,
Duke William, while this better arm can wield
A battle-axe for freedom.
KING.
Thou scorn'st my proffered mercy.
HEREWARD.
Saucy groom !
Of mercy, when thine iron heart ne'er felt
Talk'st thou still
Its blessed influence ? Where, then question I,
Was that sweet mercy, when thou to a land
Of fire and blood, of death and desolation,
Didst turn the wailing north ? not sparing one,
Even one poor hind to till the barren soil ?
England hath groaned, thou ruthless fiend, to see
Thy tender mercy to her wretched sons, ( 4 9)
Limb-lopped and eyeless, on the dark world cast.
To tell thy loving-kindness. She hath groaned
The robberies, flames, and murders to behold,
Which thou through her once-happy realms hast
spread,
Out-measuring deepest horror ! Where thy mercy
To him, the bravest, noblest of his race,
Honoured Northumberland ? The axe hath fallen,
Dark homicide, on that last Saxon chief
Of his high rank, a martyr in the cause
Of glorious freedom ! Long shall he be wept
By all true-hearted Saxons, and his fame