Stout _Harrold_ in the field his death’s wound tooke, With his two bretheren _Girth_ and _Leowin_, At Battaile abbey ’gainst the Norman duke: For in ist iudgement then did heau’n begin To plague this land for my detested sinne, Which from that time twice thirtie yeares and foure, With Norman bondage was oppressed sore. 58. Thus by decree of fate without remorse By the keene sword fiue sonnes to death’s doome past, The sixt in riding on a head-strong horse Into the siluer Thames dark deepe was cast, In which his soule the pangs of death did taste: The seuenth and last was in close prison kept, Vntill in death the conquering Norman slept. 59. Yet heere heau’ns heauie iudgement did not end, My wretched mother, though forworne and old, Vntimely fell, who, while she liu’d, did send Yong dames to Denmarke, where for gaine of gold, Their virgin beauties vnto lust were sold, For which offence, to all the world a wonder, She stricken was from heau’n by horrid thunder. 60. And that on earth, my shame might neuer die, The sea’s proud waues haue ouerrun my lands, Which did of yore by Sandwich hauen lie, Where now bound vp in Neptune’s watrie bands, They at this day are called _Godwin_ sands, And since are made of pasture-springing-ground, A dangerous gulfe the sea-man to confound. 61. Thus for prince _Alfred’s_ blood, which I did shed, Ioue in the tempest of his wrathfull mood, Powr’d downe his wracke vpon my wretched hed: Of all foule ils most aduerse vnto good, Vengeance pursues the blushing sinne of blood, Blood out of earth with cries importunes heau’n To grant reuenge, vntill reuenge be giuen. 62. Vnto a sinfull wight, though time do seeme With wings of waste his shame away to wipe, Although the king of heau’n secure he deeme: Yet when his sore of sinne is waxen ripe, Of his smart scourge he feeles the bitter stripe, The truth whereof, that I may testifie, Amongst thy Mirrours place my tragedie. THE LIFE AND DEATH _of Robert svrnamed Cvrthose_, Duke of Normandie. THE ARGUMENT.