Nor churl am I To frown on kind intent, nor child to trust This sceptre of Seven Realms to magic snare That puissance hath--who knows not?--greater thrice In house than open field. I therefore chose For audience hall this precinct.' Muttered low Murdark, the scoffer with the cave-like mouth And sidelong eyes, 'Queen Bertha's voice was that! A woman's man! Since first from Gallic shores That dainty daughter of King Charibert Pressed her small foot on England's honest shore The whole land dwindles!' In seraphic hymns Ere long that serpent hiss was lost: for soon, In raiment white, circling a rocky point, O'er sands still glistening with a tide far-ebbed, On drew, preceded by a silver Cross, A long procession. Music, as it moved, Floated on sea-winds inland, deadened now By thickets, echoed now from cliff or cave: Ere long before them that procession stood. The King addressed them: 'Welcome, Heralds sage! And if from God I welcome you the more, Since great is God, and therefore great His gifts: God grant He send them daily, heaped and huge! Speak without fear, for him alone I hate Who brings ill news, or makes inept demand Unmeet for Kings. I know that Cross ye bear; And in my palace sits a Christian wife, Bertha, the sweetest lady in this land; Most gracious in her ways, in heart most leal. I knew her yet a child: she knelt whene'er The Queen, her mother, entered: then I said, A maid so reverent will be reverent wife, And wedded her betimes. Morning and eve She in her wood-girt chapel sings her prayer, Which wins us kindlier harvest, and, some think, Success in war. She strives not with our Gods: Confusion never wrought she in my house, Nor minished Hengist's glory. Had her voice, Clangorous or strident, drawn upon my throne Deserved opprobrium'--here the monarch's brows Flushed at the thought, and fire was in his eyes-- 'The hand that clasps this sceptre had not spared To hunt her forth, an outcast in the woods, Thenceforth with beasts to herd! More lief were I To take the lioness to my bed and board Than house a rebel wife.' Remembering then The mildness of his Queen, King Ethelbert Resumed, appeased, for placable his heart; 'But she no rebel is, and this I deem Fair auspice for her Faith.' A little breeze Warm from the sea that moment softly waved The standard from its staff, and showed thereon The Child Divine. Upon His mother's knee Sublime He stood. His left hand clasped a globe Crowned with a golden Cross; and with His right, Two fingers heavenward raised, o'er all the earth He sent His Blessing. Of that band snow-stoled One taller by the head than all the rest