Classic Poem

ACT IV.

Scene I. — A Plain.

Enter H AROLD , and Danish Lords.

First Lord .

Th' important moment comes, when Denmark's fate
Rests on the vigour of her Monarch's arm.
Ye sainted Guardians, of our country, smile
Propitious now!

Second Lord .

Our King scarce brooks a rival
In regal pow'r; but in high feats of arms,
Scorns to be aught but greatly excellent.

HAROLD.

So may this day's success declare! O Friends,
Should he be vanquish'd, Denmark sinks to nothing;
Forc'd from their barren homes, her numerous sons
Fix'd on this fertile isle, as a fit station,
Whereon to raise the massy pile of Empire.
This to achieve, her noblest blood hath flow'd
For many a year.

First Lord .

Must we not blame Canutus;
Who, now triumphant, yields his certain right
To the decision of uncertain Fortune?

HAROLD.

Long have the rival Kings incessant toil'd
To gain a noble prize than Conqhest — Fame.
The brave disdain success acquir'd by baseness.
Canutus waves the strange events of Ashdown,
And calls again on Fortune to decide.

Second Lord .

The King appears.