To clear old debts; make needless wars to come. Not long that strife endured; on either side Valour was equal; but on one, conjoined, The skill most practised, and the heavier bones: The many fought the few. On that last field 'Twas but the fury of a fell despair, Not hope, that held the balance straight so long: Ere sunset all was over. From the field A wounded remnant dragged their king, half dead: The Mercian host pursued not. Many a week Low lay the broken giant nigh to death: At last, like creeping plant down-dragged, not crushed, That, washed by rains, and sunshine-warmed, once more Its length uplifting, feels along the air, And gradual finds its 'customed prop, so he, Strengthening each day, with dubious eyes at first Around him peered, but raised at length his head, And, later, question made. His health restored, He sought East Anglia, where King Anna reigned, His chief of friends in boyhood. Day by day A spirit more buoyant to the exile came And winged him on his way: his country's bound Once passed, his darker memories with it sank: Through Essex hastening, stronger grew his step; East Anglian breezes from the morning sea Fanned him to livelier pulse: wild April growths Gladdened his spirit with glittering green. More fresh He walked because the sun outfaced him not, Veiled, though not far. That shrouded sun had ta'en Its passion from the wild-bird's song, but left Quiet felicities of notes low-toned That kept in tune with streams too amply brimmed To chatter o'er their pebbles. Kenwalk's soul Partook not with the poet's. Loveliest sights, Like music brightening those it fails to charm, Roused but his mirthful mood. To each that passed He tossed his jest: he scanned the labourer's task; Reviled the luckless boor that ploughed awry, And beat the smith that marred the horse's hoof: At times his fortunes thus he moralised: 'Here walk I, crownless king, and exiled man: My Mercian brother lists his sister's tongue: Say, lark! which lot is happiest?' Festive streets, Tapestries from windows waving, banners borne By white-clad children chanting anthems blithe; With these East Anglia's king received his friend Entering the city gate. In joyous sports That day was passed. At banquet Christian priests Sat with his thanes commingled. Anna's court Was Christian, and, for many a league around, His kingdom likewise. As the earth in May Glistens with vernal flowers, or as the face Of one whose love at last has found return Irradiate shines, so shone King Anna's house, A home of Christian peace. Fair sight it was-- Justice and Love, the only rivals there, O'er-ruled it, and attuned. Majestic strength Looked forth in every glance of Anna's eye,