#vortigern

Vor. As with their bloods I stain’d my reeking blade, From summit of the tow’r, the raven croak’d; Th’ heavy-wing’d crow did chatter o’er my head, And seem’d to bear black laurels for this brow: Yet, did not, erst, the sun-defying eagle O’er the world-conquering Macedonian hero, Flutter, and point his way to victory? Then from thy jarring throat spit pestilence; And, bird of hell, I’ll take thee for my guide.

Vor. Be it, then, void: and here I pledge myself, To take this lovely maiden to my wife. To thee, good Hengist, we resign all Kent, As a sure earnest of our future bounty: Proclaim it in the camp; and let each man Receive in largess, from our royal coffers, That massy ore, which long hath lain entomb’d, And now shall well reward the soldiers’ toils.

Lorenzo Salimbeni (Italian, 1374–ca. 1418) and Jacopo Salimbeni (Italian, ca. 1370/80–after 1426), Crucifixion (detail), ca. 1416.

CONSTANTINUS Good Vortigern! as peace doth bless our isle, And the loud din of war no more affrights us, And as my soul hath plac’d thee next herself, ’Tis our desire that thou deny’st us not That, which anon we crave thee to accept; For though most weighty be the proffer’d task, We trust thy goodness will the toil accept, Since we have always found thee kind by nature; And, as the pelican, e’en with thy blood, Ready to succour and relieve.

—W. H. Ireland, Vortigern; an historical play

There is a bird called Pelican. When it has young it loves them to excess. Instinctive love impels it to pick through its own breast and let the blood flow into the chicks’ mouths. This done, it dies.

Adding to the stack. For context: