But thou, thou, O beloved!--cursed be the king that chose thee, and cruel was the father that forgot the light of the mother's eyes!" "Tut, mother the dearest," said Wolnoth, pausing from the contemplation of a silk robe, all covered with broidered peacocks, which had been sent him as a gift from his sister the Queen, and wrought with her own fair hands; for a notable needle-woman, despite her sage lere, was the wife of the Saint King, as sorrowful women mostly are,--"Tut! the bird must leave the nest when the wings are fledged.

Harold the eagle, Tostig the kite, Gurth the ring-dove, and Leofwine the stare.

See, my wings are the richest of all, mother, and bright is the sun in which thy peacock shall spread his pranked plumes." Then, observing that his liveliness provoked no smile from his mother, he approached and said more seriously: "Bethink thee, mother mine.

No other choice was left to king or to father.

Harold, and Tostig, and Leofwine, have their lordships and offices.