Reasons For Defeat Poem by Guy Northam

I was at Maldon, a chance survivor,
Warrior-poet to my Lord Byrhtnoth.
I was there when Aeschere shook his spear
And bade the shield wall stand.

By then we had seen base men flee,
Tempted by Godric, that thief on horseback.
This knave, who began our shame,
Enhanced our honour - the last

The English won. The Viking host came on.
They had used guile to gain much
Ground, deceiving the ever gracious
Byrhtnoth who, though wise in ways

Of battle, had feared such heathens
Else would not advance. We saw
In the fight our Christian duty,
To protect the folk and homes of Aethelred's

Domain. That king, of no counsel,
The lord of our lord, a weak man!
His later policy was contemptible, his buying
Off the sea-raiders from the North.

Battle-hardened men did not fall,
Being doomed to death, so the land
Of Angles could be ransomed. One victory
Was ours already, a second possible.

We should have continued in the struggle.
But no; that day when Byrhtnoth
Gave up his final orison, that was
When honour passed away, and

Never again would there be an heroic
Death or the opportunity for men
To achieve unblemished fame. All was lost,
Irretrievably, on Maldon's battle plain.