Scene
A Room in the Convent Tower Overlooking the Gate
URSULA at the window. AGATHA and Nuns crouching or kneeling in a corner.
Ursula:See, Ellinor! Agatha! Anna!While yet for the ladders they wait,Jarl Osric hath rear’d the black bannerWithin a few yards of the gate;It faces our window, the raven,The badge of the cruel sea-kings,That has carried to harbour and havenDestruction and death on its wings.Beneath us they throng, the fierce Norsemen,The pikemen of Rudolph behindAre mustered, and Dagobert’s horsemenWith faces to rearward inclined;Come last, on their coursers broad-chested,Rough-coated, short-pastern’d and strong,Their casques with white plumes thickly crested,Their lances barb-headed and long:They come through the shades of the linden,Fleet riders and war-horses hot:The Normans, our friends—we have sinn’d inOur selfishness, sisters, I wot—They come to add slaughter to slaughter,Their handful can ne’er stem the tideOf our foes, and our fate were but shorterWithout them. How fiercely they ride!And “Hugo of Normandy!” “Hugo!”“A rescue! a rescue!” rings loud,And right on the many the few go!A sway and a swerve of the crowd!A springing and sparkling of sword-blades!A crashing and ‘countering of steeds!And the white feathers fly ’neath their broad bladesLike foam-flakes! the spear-shafts like reeds!
A Nun (to Agatha):Pray, sister!
Agatha: Alas! I have strivenTo pray, but the lips move in vainWhen the heart with such terror is riven.Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:As leaves fall by wintry gusts scatter’d,As fall by the sickle ripe ears,As the pines by the whirlwind fall shatter’d,As shatter’d by bolt fall the firs—To the right hand they fall, to the left handThey yield! They go down! they give back!And their ranks are divided and cleft, andDispers’d and destroy’d in the track!Where, stirrup to stirrup, and bridleTo bridle, down-trampling the slain!Our friends, wielding swords never idle,Hew bloody and desperate laneThrough pikemen, so crowded togetherThey scarce for their pikes can find room,Led by Hugo’s gilt crest, the tall featherOf Thurston, and Eric’s black plume!
A Nun (to Agatha):Pray, sister!
Agatha: First pray thou that heavenWill lift this dull weight from my brain,That crushes like crime unforgiven.Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:Close under the gates men are fightingOn foot where the raven is rear’d!’Neath that sword-stroke, through helm and skull smiting,Jarl Osric falls, cloven to the beard!And Hugo, the hilt firmly grasping,His heel on the throat of his foe,Wrenches back. I can hear the dull rasping,The steel through the bone grating low!And the raven rocks! Thurston has landedTwo strokes, well directed and hard,On the standard pole, wielding, two-handed,A blade crimson’d up to the guard.Like the mast cut in two by the lightning,The black banner topples and falls!Bewildering! back-scattering! affright’ning!It clears a wide space next the walls.
A Nun (to Agatha):Pray, sister!
Agatha: Does the sinner unshriven,With naught beyond this life to gain,Pray for mercy on earth or in heaven?Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:The gates are flung open, and straightway,By Ambrose and Cyril led on,Our own men rush out through the gateway;One charge, and the entrance is won!No! our foes block the gate and endeavourTo force their way in! Oath and yell,Shout and war-cry wax wilder than ever!Those children of Odin fight well;And my ears are confused by the crashing,The jarring, the discord, the din;And mine eyes are perplex’d by the flashingOf fierce lights that ceaselessly spin;So when thunder to thunder is calling,Quick flash follows flash in the shade,So leaping and flashing and falling,Blade flashes and follows on blade!While the sward, newly plough’d, freshly painted,Grows purple with blood of the slain,And slippery! Has Agatha fainted?
Agatha:Not so, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:No more from the window; in the old yearsI have look’d upon strife. Now I goTo the court-yard to rally our soldiersAs I may—face to face with the foe.[She goes out.]