and why didst thou forsake thy home?'

"I will tell thee anon. Gurth, has my father ailed?-there is that in his face which I like not.'

"He hath not complained of misease,' said Gurth, startled; but now thou speakest of it, his mood hath altered of late, and he hath wandered much alone, or only with the old hound and the old falcon.'

"Then Harold turned back, and his heart was full; and when he reached the house, his father was sitting in the hall, on his chair of state, and Githa sat on his right hand, and a little below her sat Tostig and Leofwine, who had come in from the bear-hunt by the river gate, and were talking loud and merrily, and thegns and enechts sat all around; and there was wassail as Harold entered. But the earl looked only to his father; and he saw that his eyes were absent from the glee, and that he was bending his head over the old falcon which sat on his wrist."

Our readers have been already informed of the alteration which the author has made with reference to the connexion between Harold and Edith. The love-passages between them are of exquisite and tender beauty. The scene in which Harold offers, with the crown within his grasp, to renounce for her sake all his darling and long-cherished hopes of ambition and glory; the struggle in his breast between England and Edith, is described with a graphic power which, had the author never written another line, would have made him immortal; and then the calm and noble resignation of the maiden-the passionate sorrow of the king-is of the deepest interest; but for this scene we cannot afford space, and must content ourselves with extracting that which contains their betrothal :

"His voice faltered a moment, and again he renewed

"Thou weepest, Edith-oh, how thy tears console me! Hilda, hear me! I love thy grandchild-loved her by irresistible instinct, since her blue eyes first smiled on mine. I loved her in her childhood as in her youth—in the blossom as in the flower; and thy grandchild loves me. The laws of the church proscribed our marriage, and therefore we parted; but I feel, and thine Edith feels, that the love remains as strong in absence. No other will be her wedded lord-no other my wedded wife; there

fore, with a heart made soft by sorrow, and, in my father's death, sole lord of my fate, I return, and say to thee in her presence, suffer us to hope still! The day may come when, under some king less enthralled than Edward by formal church-laws, we may obtain from the pope absolution for our nuptials-a day, perhaps, far off; but we are both young, and love is strong and patient; we can wait.'

"Oh, Harold,' exclaimed Edith, we can wait.'

"Have I not told thee, son of Godwin,' said the vala, solemnly, 'that Edith's skein of life was enwoven with thine? Dost thou deem that my dreams have not explored the destiny of the last of my race? Know that it is in the decrees of the fates, that ye are to be united, never more to be divided; know that there shall come a day, though I can see not its morrow, and it be dim and afar, which shall be the most glorious of thy life, and in which Edith and fame shall be thine-the day of thy nativity, in which hitherto all things have prospered with thee. In vain against the laws preach the mone and the priest; --what shall be, shall be. Wherefore, take hope and joy, O children of time; and now, as I join your hands, I betroth your souls.'

"Rapture unalloyed, and unprophetic, born of love, deep and pure, shone in the eyes of Harold, as he clasped the hand of his promised bride. But an involuntary shudder passed over Edith's frame, as she leaned close for support upon Harold's breast; and, as if by a vision, there arose distinct in her memory, a stern brow, a form of power and terror-the brow and the form of him who but once again in her waking life the prophetess had told her she should behold. The vision passed away in the warm clasp of those protecting arms, and looking up into Harold's face, she there beheld the mighty and deep delight that transfused itself at once into her own soul.

"Then Hilda, placing one hand over their heads, and raising the other towards heaven, all radiant with wintry stars, said, in her deep and thrilling tones

"Attest the betrothal of these young hearts, O ye powers that draw nature to nature, by spells which no galdra can trace, and have wrought in the hearts of creation no mystery so perfect as love! Attest it, thou temple, thou altar!-attest it, O sun! O air! While the forms are divided, may the souls cling together-sorrow with sorrow, and joy with joy; and when at length bride and bridegroom are one, O stars, may the terrible with which ye are charged, have exhausted its burden,

Our readers may recollect that Tostig, the brother of Harold, who had been expelled by his subjects from his kingdom in Northumbria, volunteered his services to the Duke of Normandy, to assist in deposing his brother. William, however, too cautious to depend upon the faith of a reckless adventurer, gave him some ships to try the speculation upon his own account; and with these, instead of attempting to land upon the English shores, he set sail for Norway, to secure the assistance of Harold, the son of Sigurd, one of the ferocious vikings of the north. Of these extraordinary race of pirates we have many curious accounts.

The sea-kings of the north, says Sharon Turner, were a race of beings whom Europe beheld with horror. Without a yard of territorial property -without any towns or visible nation -with no wealth but their ships-no force but their crews, and no hope but from their swords, they swarmed upon the boisterous ocean, and plundered in every district they could approach. Never to sleep under a smoky roof, nor to indulge in the cheerful cup over a hearth, were the boasts of these watery sovereigns, who not only flourished in the plunder of the sea and its shores, but who sometimes amassed so much booty and enlisted so many followers, as to be able to assault provinces for permanent conquest in the ninth century. Not only the children of kings, but every person of any importance, equipped ships; and if they had no hereditary property, set about acquiring some in the best fashion they could. It appears to have been the custom of the north, that one of the male children should be selected to inherit the government, while the junior branches were sent to push their fortunes upon the ocean, much in the same manner that younger sons in these times are drafted off into the church and the army. This dreadful

race inhabited the creeks and bays of the Northern Ocean, ready to dart forth upon any unhappy urgency which offered a reasonable hope of plunder. Their mode of fighting was characteristic of the reckless ferocity by which they were distinguished. They never thought of having recourse to any species of naval tactics; but lashing their ships to those of the enemy, the boarders proceeded to their work at

once.

The Berserkirs appear to have been especially reserved, after the manner of our marines, for this species of conflict. Their onslaught was furious and irresistible. Biting their shields, and howling like wild beasts, they rushed on with a savage enthusiasm which was unparalleled. They were usually stationed in the prows of the vessel, and the frantic fury thus excited, and known by the name of the "furor Berserkicus," was, as we are informed, an artifice of battle, like the Indian war-whoop. It was originally, adds Turner, practised by Odin, and those who used it joined in companies. It was at length, as morals improved, felt to be horrible. It changed from a distinction to a reproach, and was prohibited by penal laws, until the name at last became execrable. A formidable fleet of these pirates, under the command of Harold Hardrada, and accompanied by the recreant Tostig, set sail for England, and proceeded up the Ouse, as far as Rochdale. The invasion was a most formidable one. There seems, however, a considerable difference among these various chroniclers as to its actual extent. According to Paris, the ships were a thousand; while Jugulf makes them but two hundred, and Malmsbury and others rate them at three hundred. However this may be, they found the English prepared, and on the 20th of September a pitched battle was fought near York; the English, commanded by the Earls Edwin and Murkar, brothers-in-law of Harold, suffered a disastrous defeat, and the earls were actually besieged in York, when Harold hastened to their assistance. The account of the battle is so magnificent-so truly Homeric in its style that we cannot resist the temptation of extracting it at length; and we are assured that, by so doing, we shall commit no trespass on the patience of our readers:

"King Harold Hardrada, on his coalblack steed, with his helm all shining with gold, rode from the lines, and came into bearing, and then this extraordinary person, who united in himself all the types of an age that vanished for ever in his grave, and who is the more interesting, as in him we see the race from which the Norman sprang, began in the rich full voice, that pealed deep as an organ, to chaunt his impromptu warsong. He halted in the midst, and with great composure said—

"That verse is but ill-turned; I must try a better.'

"He passed his hand over his brow, mused an instant, and then, with his fair face all illumined, he burst forth, as if inspired. This time, air, rhyme, words, all so chimed in with his own enthusiasm, and that of his men, that the effect was irrepressible. It was, indeed, like the charm of one of those runs which are said to have maddened the Berserker into the frenzy of war. Meanwhile the Saxon phalanx came on, slow and firm, and in a few minutes the battle began. It commenced first with the charge of the English cavalry (never numerous) led by Leofwine and Haco, but the double palisade of the Norman spears formed an impassable barrier, and the horsemen, recoiling from the frieze, rode round the iron circle, without other damage than the spear and javelin could effect. Meanwhile King Harold, who had dismounted, marched, as was his wont, with the body of footmen. He kept his foot in the hollow of the triangular wedge, whence he could best issue his orders. Avoiding the side over which Tostig presided, he halted his array, in full centre of the enemy, where the ravager of the world, streaming high above the inner rampart of shields, shewed the presence of the giant Hardrada.

"The air was now literally darkened with the flights of arrows and spears; and in a war of missives the Saxons were less skilled than the Norsemen. Still King Harold restrained the ardour of his men, who, sore harassed by the darts, yearned to close on the foe. He himself, standing on a little eminence, more exposed than his meanest soldier, deliberately eyed the rallies of the horse, and watched the moment he foresaw, when, encouraged by his own suspense, and the feeble attacks of the cavalry, the Norsemen would lift up their spears from the ground, and advance themselves to the assault. That moment came; unable to withhold their own fiery zeal, stimulated by the tramp, and the clash, and the war-hymns of their king, and his choral Skalds, the Norsemen broke ground and came on.

To your axes and charge!' cried Harold; and passing at once from the centre to the front, he led on the array. The impetus of that artful phalanx was tremendous; it pierced through the ring of the Norwegians; it clove the rampart of the shields, and King Harold's battleaxe was the first that strode into the innermost circle that guarded the ravager of the world. Then forth from under the shade of that great flag, came himself, also on foot, Harold Hardrada. Shouting and chaunting, he leaped with long strides into the thick of the onslaught. He had flung away his shield, and swaying with both his hands his enormous sword, he hewed down man after man, till space grew clear before him; and the English, recoiling in awe before an image of might and strength that seemed superhuman, left but one form standing firm and in front to oppose his way. At that moment the whole strife seemed not to belong to an age comparatively modern-it took a character of remotest date; and Thor and Odin seemed to have returned to the earth. Behind this towering and Titan warrior, their wild hair streaming long under their helms, came his Skalds, all singing their hymns, drunk with the madness of battle. And the ravager of the world tossed and flapped as it followed, so that the vast raven wing depicted on its side seemed moved with life; and calm and alone, his eye watchful, his axe ready for rush or for spring-but firm as an oak against flight-stood the last of the Saxon kings.

"Down bounded Hardrada, and down shore his sword-King Harold's shield was cloven in two, and the force of the blow brought himself to his knee. But, swift as the flash of that sword, he sprang to his feet, and as Hardrada still bowed his head, not recovered from the force of the blow, the axe of the Saxon came so full on his helmet, that the giant dropped his sword, and staggered back, while his skalds and chiefs rushed around him. The gallant stand of King Harold saved his English from flight; and now, as they saw him, almost lost in the throng, yet still cleaving his way-onon-to the raven standard-they rallied with one heart, and shouting forth, 'Out, out!'' Holy Crosse!' forced their way to his side, and the fight now waged hot and equal, hand to hand. Meanwhile Hardrada, borne a little apart, and relieved from his dusted helmet, recovered the shock of the weightiest blow that had ever dimmed his eye or numbed his hand. Tossing the helmet on the ground, his bright locks glittering like sunbeams, he rushed back to the mélée. Again helm and mail went down before

him; again through the crowd he saw the arm that had smitten him; again he sprang forth to finish the war with one blow, when a shaft from some distant bow pierced the throat, which the casque now left bare; a sound like the wail of a death-song murmured brokenly from his lips, which then gushed out with blood, and, tossing his arms wildly, he fell to the ground a corpse. At that sight a yell of such terror, and woe, and wrath, all commingled, arose from the Norsemen, that it hushed the very war for the moment! On! cried the Saxon king, let our earth take its spoiler !— on to the standard, and the day is our own!'

"On to the standard cried Haco, who, his horse slain under him, all bloody with wounds not his own, now came to the king's side. Grim and tall rose the standard, and the streamer wrinkled and flapped in the wind, as if the raven had voice, when, right before Harold, right between him and the banner, stood Tostig his brother, known by the splendour of his mail-the gold-work on his mantle-known by the fierce laugh and defying voice. What matter,' cried Haco; strike, O king, for thy crown!' Harold grasped Haco's arm convulsively, he lowered his axe, turned round, and passed shudderingly away. Both armies now paused from the attack, for both were thrown into great disorder, and each gladly gave respite to the other, to re-form its own shattered array. The Norsemen were not the soldiers to yield because their leader was slain-rather the more resolute to fight, since revenge was now added to valour; yet, but for the daring and promptness with which Tostig had cut his way to the standard, the day had been already decided. During the pause, Harold, summoning Gurth, said to him, with great emotion- For the sake of nature, for the love of God, go, oh Gurth-go to Tostig; urge him, now Hardrada is dead, urge him to peace.

The Viking refused to surrender, and at last fell by a javelin from the hand of Haco. As if in him had been embodied the unyielding war-god of the Norsemen, in that death died the last hope of the Vikings-they fell literally where they stood; many, from sheer exhaustion and the weight of their mail, died without a blow; and, in the shades of nightfall, Harold stood amid the shattered rampart of shields-his foot on the corpse of the standard-bearer his hand on the ravager of the world. Thy brother's corpse is borne yonder,' said Haco, in the ear of the king, as, wiping the blood from his sword, he plunged it into the sheath."

The splendour and beauty of this grand historical picture it would be difficult, indeed, to equal; and great as is the fame which the author has acquired by the brilliant beauty of his previous productions, there are striking and remarkable passages in this book which, we are inclined to believe, have never been equalled in the annals of English literature. Magnificent as is the description of the battle-scene which we have just extracted, the encounter between the Welsh king, Griffyth, and the English army is scarcely a whit behind it. Griffyth ap-Llewellyn, the most accomplished prince of his time in the art of war, had effected an alliance with Algar, the Lord of Mercia, and joined by a formidable host of the dreadful vikings, had broken out into open rebellion in the defiles of Wales, which country being impracticable for the evolutions of cavalry, afforded them an almost invariable retreat. It was, therefore, necessary for the English army to advance upon foot, storming succes sively these mountain fastnesses, which the Welsh king defended inch by inch. Driven, however, successively from these defences one by one, the indomitable Welsh king at last took up his position on the heights of Penmaenmawr, where, protected by inaccessible rocks and lofty mountains, he seemed to defy all the might of Saxon England. The place of this, his last retreat, beside all the security it took from nature, had a claim from ancient art. A rude Roman fortress rose beside the stream, and near it the grey ruins of the imperial city, destroyed ages ago by lightning.

The battle scene is grand in terrible beauty:

"Once in the open space, the scene was terrific. Brief as had been the onslaught, the carnage was already unspeakable. By dint of sheer physical numbers, animated by a valour that seemed as the frenzy of madmen or the hunger of wolves, hosts of the Britons had crossed trench and stream, seizing with their hands the points of the spears opposed to them, bounding over the corpses of their countrymen, and, with yells of wild joy, rushing upon the close-serried lines, drawn up before the port. The stream seemed literally to run gore. Pierced by javelins and arrows, corpses floated and vanished;

while numbers, undeterred by the havoc, leaped into the waves from the opposite banks. Like bears, that surround the ship of a sea-king beneath the polar meteors, or the midnight sun of the north, came the savage warriors, through that glaring atmosphere.

"Amidst all, two forms were preeminent the one, tall and towering, stood by the trench, and behind a banner, that now drooped round the stave, now streamed wide and broad, stirred by the rush of men, for the night in itself was breezeless, with a vast Danish axe, wielded by both hands, stood this man, confronting hundreds, and at each stroke, rapid as the lion, fell a foe. All round him was a wall of his own-the dead. But in the centre of the space, leading on a fresh troop of shouting Welshmen, who had found their way from another part, was a form which seemed charmed against arrow and spear; for the defensive arms of this chief were as slight as if worn but for ornament. A small corselet of gold covering the centre of his breast; a gold collar of twisted wires circled his throat, and a gold bracelet adorned his bare arm, dropping gore, not his own, from the wrist to the elbow. He was small and slight-shaped, below the common standard of men, but he seemed as one made a giant by the sublimer inspiration of war. He wore no helmet, merely a golden circlet; and his hair, of a deep red, longer than was usual with the Welsh, hung like the mane of a lion over his shoulders, tossing loose with each stride. His eyes glared like the tiger's at night, and he leaped on the spears with a bound. Lost a moment amidst hostile ranks, save by the bright glitter of his short sword, he made amidst all a path for himself and his followers, and emerged from the heart of the steel, unscathed and loud breathing; while round the line he had broken, wheeled and closed his wild men, striking, rushing, slaying, slain.

"Pardieu! this is war worth the sharing,' said the knight, who, left to himself, did not hesitate a moment more, and he was in the midst of the Welsh force, headed by the chief with the golden panoply. Secure in his ringmail against the bright weapons of the Welsh, the sweep of the Norman sword was as the scythe of death. Right and left he smote through the throng, which he took in the flank, and had almost gained the small phalanx of Saxons, that lay firm in the midst, when the Cymrian chief's flashing eye was drawn to this new and strange foe by the roar and the groans round the Norman's way; and with the half-naked breast

against the shirt of mail, and the short Roman sword against the long Norman falchion, the lion king of Wales fronted the knight.

Al

"Unequal seems the encounter. So quick was the spring of the Briton, so pliant his arm, and so rapid his weapon, that that good knight (who, rather from skill and valour than prowess of William's band of martial brothers) would willingly have preferred to be before him, Fitzosborne, or Montgomery, all clad in steel, and armed with mace and steel, than parried those dazzling strokes, and fronted the angry majesty of that helmless brow. ready the strong rings of his mail had been twice pierced, and his blood trickled fast, while his great sword had but smitten the air in its sweeps at the foc, when the Saxon phalanx, taking advantage of the breach in the ring that girt them, caused by this diversion, and recognizing, with fierce ire, the gold torque and breastplate of the Welsh king, made their desperate charge. Then for some minutes the pêle-mêle was confused and indistinct. Blows, blind and at random-death coming no man knew whence or how, till discipline and steadfast order (which the Saxons kept as by mechanism through the discord) obstinately prevailed. The wedge forced its way; and, though reduced in numbers and sore wounded, the Saxon troops cleared the ring, and joined the main force drawn up by the fort, and guarded in the rere by its walls. Meanwhile Harold, supported by the band under Leswolf, had succeeded at length in repelling farther reinforcements of the Welsh at the more accessible part of the trenches; and casting now his practised eye over the field, he issued orders for some of the men to regain the fort, and open from the battlements and from every loophole, the batteries of stone and javelins, which then (with the Saxons, unskilled in sieges) formed the main artillery of forts. These orders given, he planted Leswolf and most of his band to keep watch round the trenches; and shading his eye with his hand, and looking towards the moon, all waning and dimmed in the watch-fires, he said calmly

Ere

"Now patience fights for us. the moon reaches yon hill-top, the troops at Abu and Caerneu will be on the slopes of Penmaur, and cut off the retreat of yon strife.'

"But as the earl, with his axe swung over his shoulder, and followed by some half score or more with his banner, strode on where the wild war was now mainly concentered, just midway be