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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355138" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Red King</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The King was drinking in Malwood Hall,<br>There came in a monk before them all:<br>He thrust by squire, he thrust by knight,<br>Stood over against the dais aright;<br>And, 'The word of the Lord, thou cruel Red King,<br>The word of the Lord to thee I bring.<br>A grimly sweven I dreamt yestreen;<br>I saw thee lie under the hollins green,<br>And through thine heart an arrow keen;<br>And out of thy body a smoke did rise,<br>Which smirched the sunshine out of the skies:<br>So if thou God's anointed be<br>I rede thee unto thy soul thou see.<br>For mitre and pall thou hast y-sold,<br>False knight to Christ, for gain and gold;<br>And for this thy forest were digged down all,<br>Steading and hamlet and churches tall;<br>And Christes poor were ousten forth,<br>To beg their bread from south to north.<br>So tarry at home, and fast and pray,<br>Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment-day.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The monk he vanished where he stood;<br>King William sterte up wroth and wood;<br>Quod he, 'Fools' wits will jump together;<br>The Hampshire ale and the thunder weather<br>Have turned the brains for us both, I think;<br>And monks are curst when they fall to drink.<br>A lothly sweven I dreamt last night,<br>How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight,<br>Did smite me down to the pit of hell;<br>I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell.<br>There's Tyrrel as sour as I, perdie,<br>So he of you all shall hunt with me;<br>A grimly brace for a hart to see.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Red King down from Malwood came;<br>His heart with wine was all aflame,<br>His eyne were shotten, red as blood,<br>He rated and swore, wherever he rode.<br>They roused a hart, that grimly brace,<br>A hart of ten, a hart of grease,<br>Fled over against the kinges place.<br>The sun it blinded the kinges ee,<br>A fathom behind his hocks shot he:<br>'Shoot thou,' quod he, 'in the fiendes name,<br>To lose such a quarry were seven years' shame.'<br>And he hove up his hand to mark the game.<br>Tyrrel he shot full light, God wot;<br>For whether the saints they swerved the shot,<br>'Or whether by treason, men knowen not,<br>But under the arm, in a secret part,<br>The iron fled through the kinges heart.<br>The turf it squelched where the Red King fell;<br>And the fiends they carried his soul to hell,<br>Quod 'His master's name it hath sped him well.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tyrrel he smiled full grim that day,<br>Quod 'Shooting of kings is no bairns' play;'<br>And he smote in the spurs, and fled fast away.<br>As he pricked along by Fritham plain,<br>The green tufts flew behind like rain;<br>The waters were out, and over the sward:<br>He swam his horse like a stalwart lord:<br>Men clepen that water Tyrrel's ford.<br>By Rhinefield and by Osmondsleigh,<br>Through glade and furze brake fast drove he,<br>Until he heard the roaring sea;<br>Quod he, 'Those gay waves they call me.'<br>By Mary's grace a seely boat<br>On Christchurch bar did lie afloat;<br>He gave the shipmen mark and groat,<br>To ferry him over to Normandie,<br>And there he fell to sanctuarie;<br>God send his soul all bliss to see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And fend our princes every one,<br>From foul mishap and trahison;<br>But kings that harrow Christian men<br>Shall England never bide again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In the New Forest, 1847.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Kingsley">Charles Kingsley</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355138" data-title="The Red King de Charles Kingsley" data-description="The King was drinking in Malwood Hall,
There came in a monk before them all:
He thrust by squire, he thrust by knight,
Stood over against the dais aright;
And, 'The word of the Lord, thou cruel Red King,
The word of the Lord to thee I bring.
A gri..."></div>
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