Part 6 (1/2)

Too soon a seaman hindered him; that good arm's strength he marred.

The leader drops his gold hilted sword, no longer able to wield the weapon, powerless to hold the keen-edged falchion. No more deeds of valour for him; only to urge on his men, and to commend his soul to G.o.d.

Yet spake the word that warrior h.o.a.r, the young men's hearts he cheered, Bad the good comrades forward go, nor ever be afeard.

No longer could he firmly stand on's feet; to heaven looked he-- ”Thanks, Lord of hosts, for these world-joys Thou here didst give to me.

Now, merciful Creator, now, I stand in deepest need That Thou shouldst grant my spirit good, that thus my soul indeed Fare forth to Thee, travel with peace, O King of Angels, so: I pray Thee that the h.e.l.l-spoilers nor work her hurt nor woe.”

The heathen varlets smote him down, and those that stood him by, aelfnoth and Wulfmaer, by the side of him in death did lie.

Then, alas! came the shameful flight of some whom he had loved and trusted, and graced with n.o.ble gifts. One G.o.dric, to whom he had given many a goodly steed, leapt upon the horse in his trappings which his lord had owned, and his two brothers fled with him.

And with them more than had behoved if these had thought upon The gifts and goods so free bestowed by him, their mighty one.

But there were but few cowards and mean. Of his own hearth-comrades there went forth men, hasting eagerly,

One of two things their heart's desire, to avenge their lord or die.

Young aelfwine heartened them with n.o.ble words, and gave them the example of n.o.ble deeds. And Offa, and Leofsunu, and Dunnere, the old man, fought stubbornly. And a hostage from among the Northumbrian folk, a man come of gallant kin, helped them; and Edward the Long, and many another.

Then Bryhtwold spake, that comrade old, he raised the s.h.i.+eld on high He shook the ashwood spear, he taught the men unfearingly: ”The braver must our spirit be, our hearts the stronger far, The greater must our courage wax, the fewer that we are.

Here lies our prince all pierced and hewn, the good one in the clay; Aye may he mourn who thinketh now to leave this battle-play.

I am old in life; I will not hence; I think to lay me here, The rather by my chieftain's side, a man so lief and dear.”

And the men grew bold in heart at his words and fought on. G.o.dric full often sent the spear flying among the vikings, and fought till he too was laid low in the battle.

'Twas not that G.o.dric who had turned his back upon the fight,

says the poet--and the end is lost! It will help us in appreciating this poem to remember that the battle of Maldon took place in the reign of that poor weak king aethelred, known as the ”Unready,” or the Man of no Counsel. As Freeman the historian says, ”No doubt he had to struggle with very hard times, but the times now were no harder than the times which aelfred had to struggle against, and we know how much he could do.”

CHAPTER XI

The literature of one people owes a debt to that of others.

Help-bringers. Great work of Benedictine monks. Our debt to Ireland.

The English Chronicle's account of the Martyrdom of St aelfeah.

The literature of a country is not merely what the men and women born in it have written. The thought of one people is fed, or enlarged, or in some way strengthened by the thought of other peoples; and the literature of the times we are speaking of could not have been what it was, had it not had other sources than these purely English to draw from. And, of all kinds of help-bringers, we owe much to the monks, and chiefly the great Benedictine order. King Alfred had to do his work at a time when things were at a low ebb in the English monasteries. You will remember how he bewailed the poor state of learning in England, and the ignorance of the clergy; a state very different indeed from that of the old days of St Bede and Alcuin. After Alfred's time there came a revival--and revival in life means revival in work. So we get much good prose literature, and, through the monks, note well, we have it, fed from whatever old lore was then to be got at.

I have reminded you of England's great debt to Ireland through St Aidan and others. I must tell you of a record of St Bede's, which shows how gladly Ireland in old days, as ever, shared the priceless gift which she of all countries, received with the most pa.s.sionate entireness and held with the most unswerving steadfastness. It was in the year 664 that there was a great pestilence, raging both in England and Ireland. At the time there were many Englishmen in Ireland who had gone there, ”either for the sake of divine studies, or of a more continent life”; some of them, he says, became monks, and others devoted themselves to study, ”going about from one master's cell to another.” ”The Scots (that is the Irish) willingly received them all, and took care to supply them with food, as also to furnish them with books to read, and their teaching, gratis.”

Where should we be but for the work done in the monasteries? How can we be grateful enough for what went on there in the way of thought, research and the collecting of materials, in addition to the work of teaching: all fed by the life of prayer and praise and self-denial? Let us try to think about the quiet, patient work of scholars and students; about their noting of so many facts and detailing of them. Let us think of the beginnings of English history and literature; of the writing of precious ma.n.u.scripts; the careful copying of them; each of them taking so much time to complete and being so costly in production, especially when there was added to care and skill the artistic beauty of decoration and illumination.

From these quiet abodes of the piety that transfused itself through loving toil and discipline, light streamed forth to go on s.h.i.+ning and s.h.i.+ning, on through the long centuries to come.

We must now have a look into the pages of the great English Chronicle which we should not possess had it not been for these good monks, and we will take the account of the martyrdom of Archbishop aelfeah, whom you know best under the Latinized form of his name, Alphege. His heavenly birthday was the 19th of April. The king who is spoken of was aethelred who was called the Unready, which word means without counsel, and then of ill-counsel. You know how we talk of ”ill-advised” conduct or speech.