War Poetry of the South by Various


Main
- books.jibble.org



My Books
- IRC Hacks

Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare

External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd

books.jibble.org

Previous Page | Next Page

Page 167

He repented;--then he sickened!
Was he pining for the sea?
_In extremis_ was he shriven,
The viaticum was given,
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Then the old cathedral's choir
Took the plaintive minor key;
With the Host upraised before him,
Down the marble aisles they bore him;
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

While the bishop and the abbot--
All the monks of high degree,
Chanting praise to the Madonna,
Came to do him Christian honor!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Now the _miserere's_ cadence,
Takes the voices of the sea;
As the music-billows quiver,
See the dead freebooter shiver!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Is it that these intonations
Thrill him thus from head to knee?
Lo, his cerements burst asunder!
'Tis a sight of fear and wonder!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Fierce, he stands before the bishop,
Dark as shape of Destinie.
Hark! a shriek ascends, appalling,--
Down the prelate goes--dead--falling!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Hastings lives! He was but feigning!
What! Repentant? Never he!
Down he smites the priests and friars,
And the city lights with fires!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Ah! the children and the maidens,
'Tis in vain they strive to flee!
Where the white-haired priests lie bleeding,
Is no place for woman's pleading.
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

Louder swells the frightful tumult--
Pallid Death holds revelrie!
Dies the organ's mighty clamor,
By the horseman's iron hammer!
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

So they thought that he'd repented!
Had they nailed him to the tree,
He had not deserved their pity,
And they had not--lost their city.
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_

For the moral in this story,
Which is plain as truth can be:
If we trust the North's relenting,
We shall shriek-too late repenting--
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_ [1]

[1] For this incident in the life of the sea-robber, Hastings, see Milman's
History of Latin Christianity.

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 16th Jan 2026, 6:54