And in a strait grasp my arms did span The mainyard rent from the mast where it ran; And on it with me was another man. 175 Where lands were none 'neath the dim sea-sky, We told our names, that man and I. "O I am Godefroy l'Aigle hight,[281] And son I am to a belted knight." "And I am Berold the butcher's son 180 Who slays the beasts in Rouen town." Then cried we upon God's name, as we Did drift on the bitter winter sea. But lo! a third man rose o'er the wave, And we said, "Thank God! us three may He save!" 185 He clutched to the yard with panting stare, And we looked and knew Fitz-Stephen there. He clung, and "What of the Prince?" quoth he. "Lost, lost!" we cried. He cried, "Woe on me!" And loosed his hold and sank through the sea. 190 And soul with soul again in that space We two were together face to face: And each knew each, as the moment sped, Less for one living than for one dead: And every still star overhead 195 Seemed an eye that knew we were but dead. And the hours passed; till the noble's son Sighed, "God be thy help! my strength's foredone[282]! "O farewell, friend, for I can no more!" "Christ take thee!" I moaned; and his life was o'er. 200 Three hundred souls were all lost but one, And I drifted over the sea alone. At last the morning rose on the sea Like an angel's wing that beat tow'ds me. Sore numbed I was in my sheepskin coat; 205 Half dead I hung, and might nothing note, Till I woke sun-warmed in a fisher-boat. The sun was high o'er the eastern brim As I praised God and gave thanks to Him. That day I told my tale to a priest, 210 Who charged me, till the shrift[283] were releas'd, That I should keep it in mine own breast. And with the priest I thence did fare To King Henry's court at Winchester.[284] We spoke with the King's high chamberlain, 215 And he wept and mourned again and again, As if his own son had been slain: And round us ever there crowded fast Great men with faces all aghast: And who so bold that might tell the thing 220 Which now they knew to their lord the King? Much woe I learned in their communing. The King had watched with a heart sore stirred For two whole days, and this was the third: And still to all his court would he say, 225 "What keeps my son so long away?" And they said: "The ports lie far and wide That skirt the swell of the English tide;