Senlac, now called (in remembrance of them) Battle. With the first dawn of day they arose. There, in the faint light, were the English on a hill, a wood behind them, in their midst the royal banner, representing a fighting warrior, woven in gold thread, adorned with precious stones.

9. Beneath the banner, as it rustled in the wind, stood King Harold on foot, with two of his remaining brothers by his side; around them, still and silent as the dead, clustered the whole English army-every soldier covered by his shield, and bearing in his hand his dreaded English battle-axe. On an opposite hill, in three lines-archers, foot-soldiers, horsemen as the Norman force. Of a sudden, a great battle-cry,

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"CI help us!" burst from the Norman lines. The English answered with their own battle-cry, "God's Rood! Holy Rood!" The Normans then came sweeping down the hill to attack the English.

10. There was one tall Norman knight who rode before the Norman army on a prancing horse, throwing up his heavy sword and catching it, and singing of the bravery of his countrymen. An English knight who rode out from the English force to meet him, fell by this knight's hand. Another English knight rode out, and he fell too. But then a third rode out, and killed the Norman. This was in the first beginning of the fight. It soon raged everywhere.

11. The English, keeping side by side in a great mass, cared no more for the showers of Norman arrows than if they had been showers of Norman rain. When the Norman horsemen rode against them, with their battle-axes they cut men and horses down. The Normans gave way. The English pressed forward. A cry went forth among the Norman troops that Duke William was killed. Duke William took off his helmet, in order that his face might be distinctly seen, and rode along the line before his men. This gave them courage.

12. As they turned again to face the English, some of their Norman horse divided the pursuing body of the English from the rest, and thus all that foremost portion of the English army fell, fighting bravely. The main body still remaining firm,

heedless of the Norman arrows, and with their battle-axes cutting down the crowds of horsemen when they rode up, like forests of young trees, Duke William pretended to retreat. The eager English followed. The Norman army closed again, and fell upon them with great slaughter.

13. "Still," said Duke William, "there are thousands of the English firm as rocks around their king. Shoot upward, Norman archers, that your arrows may fall down upon their faces!" The sun rose high and sank; and the battle still raged. Through all the wild October day, the clash and din resounded in the air. In the red sunset, and in the white moonlight, heaps upon heaps of dead men lay strewn, a dreadful spectacle, all over the ground.

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14. King Harold, wounded with an arrow in the eye, was nearly blind. His brothers were already killed. Twenty Norman knights, whose battered armor had flashed fiery and golden in the sunshine all day long, and now looked silvery in the moonlight, dashed forward to seize the royal banner from the English knights and soldiers, still faithfully collected round their blinded king. The king received a mortal wound and dropped. The English broke and fled. The Normans rallied, and the day was lost.

15. O what a sight beneath the moon and stars, when lights were shining in the tent of the victorious Duke William, which was pitched near the spot where Harold fell-and he and his knights were carousing within-and soldiers with torches, going slowly to and fro, without, sought for the corpse of Harold among piles of dead-and the Warrior, worked in golden thread and precious stones, lay low, all torn and soiled with blood-and the three Norman Lions kept watch over the field!

[Such was the famous Battle of Hastings, the result of which was the termination of the Saxon rule in England about six centuries after its commencement, and the transfer of the government to the Normans, Harold being succeeded by William, surnamed "The Conqueror." Three Norman kings, in direct line, succeeded him; namely, William Rufus, Henry I., and Stephen, after whom Henry II., the first of the Plantagenets, ascended the throne (1154). During his reign flourished Thomas à Becket, an account of whose death is given in the following extract.]

Death of Thomas à Becket.-Lingard.

[Thomas à Becket was appointed chancellor shortly after the accession of Henry II., by whom he was treated with the most unbounded confidence and favor. The pomp of his retinue, the sumptuousness of his furniture and apparel, and the luxury of his table, were scarcely surpassed by those of the king himself; and he exercised very great influence in all affairs of state. Being made archbishop of Canterbury, he changed his whole course of life, and became as distinguished for austerity and piety as he had been previously for his luxury and splendor. The king, desiring to bring the Church into a greater subservience to the royal power, was violently opposed by the archbishop, who determined to defend to the last the privileges of his order. The king, however, succeeded in carrying his measures for a time, and Becket fled to France. The remainder of his history is told in the following narrative, taken from the "History of England," by John Lingard, D.D.]

1. BECKET, after an absence of six years, returned to England, accompanied by John, Bishop of Oxford. He carried with him letters of excommunication against three prelates, for having officiated at the coronation of the son of Henry, and otherwise abetting the king. These prelates sent soldiers to seize the letters; but Becket, hearing of their intention, gave them to a messenger, who handed them publicly to the bishops, at which circumstance they were so indignant, that they went to Henry, in France, and endeavored as much as possible to rekindle discord between him and à Becket.

2. Under the protection of his conductor, the primate reached Canterbury, where he was joyfully received by the clergy and people. Thence he prepared to visit Woodstock, the residence of the young Henry, to pay his respects to the prince, and to justify his late conduct; but the courtiers, who dreaded his influence over the mind of his former pupil, procured a peremptory order for him to return, and confine himself to his own diocese. He obeyed, and spent the following days in prayer and the functions of his station.

3. Yet they were days of distress and anxiety. The menaces. of his enemies seemed to derive importance from each succeeding event. His provisions were hourly intercepted; his property was plundered; his servants were beaten and insulted. On Christmas-day he ascended the pulpit; his sermon was distinguished by the earnestness and animation with which he

spoke. At the conclusion, he observed that those who thirsted for his blood would soon be satisfied, but that he would first avenge the wrongs of his church by excommunicating Ranulph and Robert de Broc, who for seven years had not ceased to inflict every injury in their power on him, on his clergy, and on his monks.

4. On the following Tuesday, four knights, Reginald Fitzurse, William Tracy, Hugh de Moreville, and Richard Brito, arrived secretly in the neighborhood. They had been present in Normandy, when the king, irritated by the representations of the three bishops, had exclaimed, "Of the cowards who eat my bread, is there not one who will free me from this turbulent priest?" and mistaking this passionate expression for the royal license, had bound themselves by oath to return to England, and either carry off or murder the primate. They assembled at Saltwood, the residence of the Brocs, to arrange their operations.

5. The next day, after dinner, when the archbishop was transacting business in a private apartment, it was announced that four knights wished to speak with him from the king. He ordered them to be admitted, and at the same time sent for the principal persons in his household to be present. The knights entered very unceremoniously, and seated themselves apart on the floor. Becket, who pretended at first not to notice their entrance, casting his eyes upon them, saw that three of the four were well known to him, having been formerly in his service and done homage to him.

6. He saluted them, but the salute was returned with insult. They ordered him, as if they had such a commission from the king, to absolve the excommunicated prelates, and to make satisfaction to the young Henry, whom he had traitorously attempted to deprive of the crown. He replied with firmness, and occasionally with warmth, that if he had published the papal letters, it had been with the permission of his sovereign; that the case of the Archbishop of York had been reserved to the pontiff; that with respect to the other bishops, he was willing to absolve them, whenever they should take the accus

tomed oath of submission to the determination of the Church; and that, so far from wishing to take the crown from his former pupil, the young king, he called God to witness that he would, if it were in his power, heap additional crowns upon his head.

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7. They then declared that if such were his resolve, he must quit England forever. Neither he nor his could have peace in the king's dominions. "No," exclaimed the archbishop; never again shall the sea lie between me and my Church. Here I am. If I am permitted to perform my duties, it is well; if not, I submit to the will of God. But how comes it that you, knowing what was heretofore between us, dare to threaten me in my own house?" "We shall do more than threaten," was the reply. Fitzurse then called upon the archbishop's men to give him back their homage; and ordered ail present, in the king's name, to keep watch over him, that he did not escape. "Have no fear of that," he exclaimed, following them to the door; "come when you may, you will find me here."

8. The knights withdrew to a large house immediately opposite, where they armed themselves and their followers; and, to prevent a rescue, sent an order, in the king's name, to the mayor and his brethren, to preserve the peace in the city. At the departure of the knight, the archbishop returned to his seat, apparently cool and collected. Neither in tone nor gesture did he betray the slightest apprehension, though consternation and despair were depicted on every countenance around him.

9. It was the hour of evening service, and at the sound of the psalmody in the choir, a voice exclaimed, “To the church— it will afford protection." But Becket had said that he would wait them there, and refused to remove from the place. Word was now brought that the knights had forced their way through the garden, and made an entrance by the windows A few moments later they were heard, at no great distance, breaking down with axes a strong partition of oak, which impeded their progress. In a paroxysm of terror, the archbishop's attendants closed around him, and notwithstanding his resist ance, bore him with pious violence through the cloister into