The Treacherous Life and Infamous Death of Godwin, Earl of Kent

Faire fall the steps, that happily do end
Their course begun in vertue’s painfull race,
Many begin that steepie hill t’ascend,
Where vertue dwels; but few do find such grace
As not to faint, ere they attaine that place,
To tread the path of praise I first begunne,
But lost true praise, which I did weene t’haue wonne.

Ambition tooke me by the haplesse hand,
And with delight led me another way,
Both blood and treason in my way did stand,
Which heau’n with vengeance failes not to repay,
Although reuenge of men escape they may:
Of which that I a Mirrour be, giue eare,
And in thy mind my fatall storie beare.

I am that Godwin, sometimes earle of Kent,
Who with king Harrold did conspire to shed
Prince Alfred’s blood, which I too late repent:
For whereas I vpon the glorious bed
Of spotlesse honor, might haue laid my hed,
This one blacke deed of my false treacherie,
Doth brand my name with spot of infamie.

If from that way, my steps had neuer strai’d,
Which in my youthfull daies I first did tread,
My famous acts, which now are all decai’d,
Had liu’d in lines of gold, and in the stead,
Of foule defame, with praise had crown’d my head:
But partiall fame lets passe our deeds of praise,
Our worser deed she keepes for future daies.

When bold Canutus, that victorious king,
O’er Danes and English did in triumph raigne,
Desire did set my youthfull thoughts on wing
In pursuit of renowne, which to attaine,
From pleasure’s idle bed I did refraine:
Ease duls the sprite, each drop of fond delight
Allaies the thirst, which glorie doth excite.

About this time we being secure of warre,
Fame by report did giue to vnderstand,
That the bold Vandale threatned to inferre,
Such strong inuasion both by seas and land
Vpon the Danes, that all the force of hand,
That they for warre could make, would scarce suffice
To giue repulse vnto their enemies.

Which when Canute did heare, his Danish force
He mustred vp, and I inspir’d by fame,
Troopt vp my Kentish friends, both foot and horse,
With whom deckt in braue armes and skill’d in frame
Of varied fight, vnto Canute I came,
With whom to Denmarke I design’d did goe,
Conductor of the English ’gainst the foe.

The seas we launcht, but long we had not wau’d,
Vpon the deepe, when all our ships did scatter,
Proud Nereus fom’d, the sea lookt blacke and rau’d,
The billowes rude rouz’d into hils of water,
Cuffe after cuffe the earth’s greene bankes did batter,
Which with their force our scattered nauie bore
In great distresse about the Norway shore.

Tost to and fro, the storme at length ore-blowen,
We did arriue vpon the Danish coast,
Where, in the field the Vandale dreadlesse growen,
Their valours to auouch, did vaunt and boast
Of spoiles and captiues in their conquering host,
’Twixt whom and vs the fight had then begun,
Had night, to part the fray, not twixt vs run.

The night, that giues each deathlesse creature rest,
In chaines of darknesse all the earth did bind,
And in our tents, each one as seem’d him best,
Did passe the time: but in my labouring mind
Nor rest, nor sleepe could entertainment find,
Care kept me waking, how I best might bring
My selfe in credit with Canute the king.

The time, I thought, did fit occasion yeeld,
The foes with fond neglect of vs at shore
Did sleepe secure, dispread about the field,
Their guard slight kept, their men were wearied sore
With hunting after spoile the day before,
Whom to Canute vnknowne could we confound,
Our names I thought, would euer be renown’d.

These thoughts, but newly borne in my great mind,
By secret messengers I did conuent,
The English chiefetaines all, whom I did find
In heart so well inclin’d, that all were bent
With readie hands to strengthen my intent,
And in each point their minds to mine did frame
For this affaire, all thirsting after fame.

Our English quarter, which did vtmost lie,
We vndescri’d, drew forth, and on our way
With silence we did passe, the windes blew high,
And night her darksome wings did wide display,
Lest th’aduerse scout our purpose might bewray:
So forth we went, and gain’d with good euent,
The drowsie Vandale’s vtmost regiment.

The outward watch, and courts of guard being slaine,
Through all their rankes by slaughter making way,
We did at length their fatall tents attaine,
In which, as in neglect they sleeping lay,
Without respect all went the common way,
That leads to death, as well the noble kind
As the ignoble, were in death confin’d.

Then was th’alarum giuen, and euery where
The foes with fearefull shouts did pierce the skie,
Heere one affrighted silent stands, and there
Another dreading death doth mercie crie,
Heere one cries stand, another there bids flie:
In euery place death’s terrour did abound,
And all on heapes our foes we did confound.

At length, troopt vp in haste the foes made head,
Twixt whom and vs ensu’d a deadly fight,
Grim death in darknesse hid, did bring more dread
With his approch, the foes, through sable night,
Their friends from foes could not discerne aright,
In which distresse vnable long to shield
Their campe from spoile, they fled and left the field.

Darknesse suborn’d their flight, and did preuent
Our purpos’d pursuit for th’intended chase,
Their campe laid waste, we found in euery tent
Rich spoile and captiues, men of no meane place,
With more renowne our deed of worth to grace,
Of which Canute our king did nothing know,
Vntill the morning’s light our deeds did show.

For when in east Aurora did appeare,
Canute intending to begin the fight,
When he of our supposed flight did heare,
In rage he vow’d reuenge for such despight,
And forth in furie marcht: but when in sight
The Vandale’s campe appear’d despoil’d with fire,
And all their host dispers’d, he gan admire.

The Danes, in troopes all gathered, stood amaz’d
To see through what great dangers we had run,
Vpon the slaughtered Vandales wounds they gaz’d,
Vpon the captiues and the rich spoiles wonne,
Applauding all with praise, what we had done,
The king himselfe, in heaping praise on praise,
The worth of this our deed on high did raise.

The good successe of this high conquest won,
My name in credit with the Dane did bring:
And to encrease this honor new begun
In th’horrid warre betwixt the Norway king
And prince Canute, of which the world did ring,
I by my deeds vpon the Norway coast,
Did saue Canutus and his fainting host.

When Olauus and Vlfe those brothers stout,
With their Norwegians in a dangerous fight,
Against Canute successefully had fought,
I with my English souldiers in his sight
Regain’d againe, what he had lost by flight,
And forc’d proud Olauus to flie the field,
Who to our king his crowne did after yeeld.

Grac’d in all warre affaires without mischance,
With king Canute in such great grace I came,
That he, my name and fortunes to aduance,
His sister gaue to me for wife, whose name
Hight Thira faire, a ladie of great fame,
Whom I with earnest suite did often proue,
And in the end obtain’d her for my loue.

Thus with auspitious lookes the heau’ns beheld,
The new borne infant of my towring state,
Which growing vp, with proud ambition swell’d,
Flattering it selfe with hope of happier fate,
Which to obtaine I long did lie in wait,
And left at length true honor’s path to tred,
To trace the footing which ambition led.

When death did end Canutus’ life and raigne,
I standing in contention, t’whom the right
Of England’s vnswai’d empire should remaine,
Canute’s base sonne, ambitious Harrold hight,
Did step into the throne in my despight,
Being backt by diuers peeres, that sought to clime
By his support in this new change of time.

’Gainst whom I stood with fained loyaltie
To those two princes, sonnes of Egelred,
The true borne heires to England’s emperie:
In which affaire, had fortune false not fled
And turn’d her backe, the crowne had grac’d my hed:
For had I gain’d the garland in their name,
Neither of them should haue enioy’d the same.

But al-seeing heau’n, that did my drift perceiue,
To take effect would not permit the same,
Those strong built holds I was constrain’d to leaue,
In which defiance I did first proclame,
Against the bastard in prince Alfred’s name:
Wherefore my oath I vnto Harrold past,
To be true liegeman, while my life did last.

Yet did not this my mounting thoughts beat downe,
Nor quell the pride of my aspiring mind,
My heart still aim’d at England’s royall crowne,
Aspiring hope did th’eies of reason blind,
To all impietie I was inclin’d,
Of which prince Alfred, whom would I had neuer
Betray’d to death, a Mirrour liues for euer.

The maner of whose death I shame to tell,
Such was the cruell torment of the same,
And such the noble vertues, that did dwell
In th’heart of that sweet prince, whose liuing name
To all posteritie records my shame,
The more his vertues were, whose blood I spilt,
Remorselesse wretch, the greater was my guilt.

Curst be the gracelesse heart’s vnswayed pride,
Which tempted me to act so foule a deed,
Why as at first did not faire vertue guide
My steps in path of praise? why in her steed,
All grace abolisht, did foule vice succeed?
With state and greatnesse, vertue seldome dwels,
State fosters pride, pride all good grace expels.

After the murder of this guiltlesse man,
Long time I flourisht with prosperitie,
In slothfull Harrold’s daies my house began
With many valiant sonnes to multiplie,
Who after came to great authoritie,
Of whom hereafter I intend to tell,
Hearken meane while what vnto me befell.

Hearken ye glory-thirsting men, and heare
Iudgement of wreakful wrath powr’d downe by Ioue
On me, and on my house, that all may feare,
Aspiring honor’s height those plots to proue,
To which vaine pride the heart doth often moue,
Of which, both I, and all my progenie,
May Mirrours be to all posteritie.

When Harrold had, the tearme of three yeares space,
Vpon the English throne borne supreame sway,
He dying left a name of foule disgrace,
T’obtaine true fame, he neuer gaue th’assay,
His idle life in sloth did fleet away:
In houres of ease, who euer spends his daies
To future time, leaues seldome any praise.

Vpon the throne, his brother did succeed
Prince Hardiknute, Canutus’ lawfull sonne,
Whom I did feare, lest for my bloodie deed
By his edict, I should to death be done,
Which I in lawfull triall could not shun,
To murdred Alfred he was borne halfe brother,
Got by Canute on Emma his queene mother.

Yet I being right expert in euery thing,
Which did pertaine to subtile policie,
Both tooke a solemne oth before the king,
That I from guilt of Alfred’s blood was free,
With which his friends had often charged mee:
And also, that mine oth might fauour finde,
With golden gifts I did corrupt his minde.

If that the powre of gold doe conquer kings,
Corrupts the noble, and deceaues the wise,
Subdues the valiant: yea, the brother brings
To sell his brother’s blood for golden prize,
Wherewith to glut his greedie auarice:
No maruell then, if that my gold did bring
This fained oth in credit with the king.

Of Hardiknute this fauour I did finde,
I liu’d in grace and great felicitie,
To me the rule of all things hee resign’d,
He onely kept his kinglie dignitie,
All things were swaid by my authoritie:
But after two yeares space, by suddaine death
In midst of mirth, he lost his vitall breath.

Being at a feast vpon a solemne day,
At Lambeth house, within the bishop’s place,
With cup in hand his life did fleet away,
To ground he fell and did cold death imbrace,
Leauing few friends to waile his woefull case:
In loue of drinke he liu’d, in drinke he dide:
Such drunken death oft drunkards doe betide.

Prince Edward, Alfred’s brother, he being dead,
Was left the lawfull heire vnto the crowne,
Which I did claime as due from Edgelred,
And on his seeming foes I seem’d to frowne,
That sought with violent hands to pluck him downe:
For well I did perceaue, he being king,
To good effect my purpose I should bring.

Zealous he was, and did so much delight
In sacred precepts of pure sanctitie,
That farre more fit he seem’d in all men’s sight,
To liue religious in a friarie,
Then sway the sceptor of a monarchie:
Yet seing the right did vnto him pertaine,
He was permitted ouer vs to reigne.

Vpon whose minde more pliable to yeeld
To rule of others, then to rule alone,
The hope of future fortune I did build,
And after him, vnknowne to anie one,
I laid my plot to step into the throne:
For vnto him my daughter I did wed,
Twixt whom I knew would be a barren bed.

Although the choycest eye could not select
A virgin with more sweets of beautie fild:
Yet for in hart he iustlie did suspect
His brother Alfred’s blood by me was spild,
Her beautie with delight he nere beheld,
My dreaded power, which might haue dangerous beene
To his estate, was cause he made her queene.

Whereby in future time my valiant sonne,
My Harrold stout a title did pretend
Vnto the crowne, who by his valor wonne
High credit with the king, who in the end
So far to him his fauour did extend,
That after his decease, he did ordaine
The crowne and kingdome should to him remaine.

Thus did I sit in top of fortune’s wheele,
Knit to the royall blood of England’s crowne,
Till death did strike, mischance I nere did feele,
Fortune at my successe did neuer frowne,
Who in the hight of pride pluckes manie downe:
Dreadlesse I liu’d, being dreaded still of all,
Fearing no lucklesse chance, that might befall.

Beneath the sway of my securefull power
I from the king my guilt did long conceale
Of Alfred’s death, vntill that fatall houre,
When fate appointed did my soule appeale,
And in my death my bloodie deed reueale:
Blood for due vengeance neuer calls in vaine,
Heau’n will reuenge, when we remisse remaine.

Once sitting at the table with the king,
My son, whose office was the cup to beare,
By chance did stumble, as he did it bring,
And lightlie did himself againe vpreare,
At which by me these speeches spoken were:
“Ha, ha, my liege,” said I, “see how one brother
In time of need can well sustaine the other.”

To which the king return’d this sterne replie
With browes contract, signes of his angrie minde,
“Most true it is,” said he, “and so should I
My louing brother Alfred liuing finde
To helpe me now, but for thy self vnkinde.”
With which neere toucht: yet all distrust to shun,
Bread streight I took, and thus my oth begun.

“This bread,” quoth I, “I neuer wish to take
Downe through this throat into my hollow chest,
But choaking me, God grant, that it may make
My death a scandall, to my soule vnblest,
Which heav’n henceforth for euer may detest,
If I your brother Alfred did betray,
Or gaue consent to take his life away.”

No sooner had I spoke, and taken bread,
But of the heauens, my wish I did obtaine,
Vnto the ground I instantlie fell dead,
While yet the bread did in my throate remaine,
Through which to passe, the breath did striue in vaine:
In death did heau’n detect my villanie,
In death did vengeance iustlie seise on mee.

Which in my suddaine downefall tooke not end,
This dreadfull iudgement could not satisfie
The wrath of righteous Ioue, who did intend
The extirpation of my progenie,
In the reuenge of Alfred’s tragedie,
With seu’n sonnes done to death, all valiant men,
My name did vade, as it had neuer ben.

My eldest sonne, hight Swaine, in his rash moode
With rage incen’st, with his vnhappie hand,
Did beast-like spill his vncle Byorn’s blood,
For which a pilgrim to the holie land
He was inioyn’d by churche’s strict command:
Where rouing Saracens vpon the way,
With murther did his vncle’s death repay.

The next was Harrold, who in Edward’s reigne,
After my death grew famous in this land,
Manie great victories he did obtaine
Against the Welsh, who with rebellious hand
Against the king themselues did proudlie band:
For which in name and fame he was renown’d,
And by the king with manie merits crown’d.

But the third brother did thereat enuie,
Tostie by name, a man of mickle pride,
Which when his brother Harrold did espie,
His angrie hart did swell, and rage did guide
That reason, which doth man and beast diuide:
For on a time inrag’d with anger’s sting,
They fell at ods in presence of the king.

Where Harrold caught young Tostie by the haire,
And with his fist did smite him on the face:
But by well-wishing friends they parted were:
Yet Tostie in his minde for such disgrace,
Did vowe reuenge in more conuenient place,
And forthwith from the court with angrie looke,
To Harrold’s house his readie way he tooke.

Where when hee came, the seruants hee did finde
Preparing all things for the king’s repaire,
On whom he wreak’d the vengeance of his minde:
For not a man his wrathfull sword did spare,
In his reuenge they all alike did share:
Yet could not this his furie’s heat asswage,
Their limmes he hew’d in peeces in his rage.

Which he amongst the hogsheads of pure wine,
Vessels of ale and cydar did bestow,
And in the lomes of meath, and tubs of brine,
And other sorts of liquor he did throw
Heads, legs, and armes, whence yet warme blood did flow:
Then sent he word, that at his brother’s house
The king should find good store of poudered sowce.

For which offence, he was exilde the land,
And Harrold after Edward as his right
The crowne did claime, ’gainst whom no peere did stand:
Yet Tostie did the Norway king excite,
In battaile gainst his brother for to fight,
In which by Harrold vpon Stamford plaine,
Both Tostie and the Norway king were slaine.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.