To the toppling decks clave one and all As a fly cleaves to a chamber-wall. 115 I Berold was clinging anear; I prayed for myself and quaked with fear, But I saw his eyes as he looked at her. He knew her face and he heard her cry, And he said, "Put back! she must not die!" 120 And back with the current's force they reel Like a leaf that's drawn to a water-wheel. 'Neath the ship's travail they scarce might float, But he rose and stood in the rocking boat. Low the poor ship leaned on the tide: 125 O'er the naked keel as she best might slide, The sister toiled to the brother's side. He reached an oar to her from below, And stiffened his arms to clutch her so. 130 And "Saved!" was the cry from many a throat. And down to the boat they leaped and fell: It turned as a bucket turns in a well, And nothing was there but the surge and swell. The Prince that was and the King to come, 135 There in an instant gone to his doom, In spite of all England's bended knee And maugre[278] the Norman fealty! He was a Prince of lust and pride; He showed no grace till the hour he died. 140 When he should be king, he oft would vow, He'd yoke the peasant to his own plough. O'er him the ships score their furrows now. God only knows where his soul did wake, But I saw him die for his sister's sake. 145 By none but me can the tale be told, The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold. (_Lands are swayed by a king on a throne._) 'Twas a royal train put forth to sea, Yet the tale can be told by none but me. 150 (_The sea hath no king but God alone._) And now the end came o'er the waters' womb Like the last great Day that's yet to come. With prayers in vain and curses in vain, The White Ship sundered on the mid-main: 155 And what were men and what was a ship Were toys and splinters in the sea's grip. I Berold was down in the sea; And passing strange though the thing may be, Of dreams then known I remember me. 160 Blithe is the shout on Harfleur's strand When morning lights the sails to land: And blithe is Honfleur's[279] echoing gloam When mothers call the children home: And high do the bells of Rouen beat 165 When the Body of Christ[280] goes down the street. These things and the like were heard and shown In a moment's trance 'neath the sea alone; And when I rose, 'twas the sea did seem, And not these things, to be all a dream. 170 The ship was gone and the crowd was gone, And the deep shuddered and the moon shone: