The Thread Upon the Loom, II

II.

And in this dream, the scene had somewhat changed
But still familiar: for the hill on which
I took my rest was there, and also a
Meand’ring path that had, in waking, been
A rural road. The country church and yard
Were gone, and all bespoke an older year.
Then from a forest ‘cross the path did come
A band of men, who issued forth in haste,
And had the air of ones pursued full hot.
As they drew near and crossed the path, I did
Perceive their banner flying in the wind.
A fearsome raven on a crimson field:
These men were Viking raiders, pagan Danes,
Whose bands had harried England ‘til their swords
Reeked red with blood. But now they were pursued,
And closely—here, around the trees there came
The vanguard of a Saxon levy, with
Their golden dragon proudly rampant on
Their flying flag, which flew the prouder for
The insults it had undergone while all
Of England lay beneath the raven’s claw.

The Saxons, thus enraged and fearless, chased
Their former dreaded foes where’er they found
Them, and did put to death the ones who fell
Into their hands. This same pursuing host
Had chased this Danish band for days, in hopes
Of vengeful slaughter in return for ev’ry
Depredation they had boldly done.
The Vikings climbed the hill and at the crest
Did stop their fleeing feet and, turning, stood
Before the face of the approaching Saxon
Army, which now fully clearing past
The forest’s eaves was shown to be a great
And goodly host of thousands, raised to run
The heathen Norsemen from the countryside.
Upon the hill the band, which numbered all
Of eighty, gazed upon this mass of foes
Which filled the vale before them; one stepped out,
His dress a bearskin jerkin falling to
His knees, and turning to the company,
Swift drew his sword, and holding it aloft,
His bearded faced did open, and he spoke.