Shaft upon shield resoundeth. And yonder breaks the moon
Full from the cloud and peril shall whelm the people soon.
Rise up! rise up! my warriors with the buckler at the side,
Most steadfast in the forefront of the battle to abide."'

In came the host of Frisians. Finnsburg they girt about.
Against its every gateway arose their storming shout.
As a tide through a breachway, a wave of steel and flame,
At the last into Finnsburg, Finn and his army came.
A knot of men before them withstood them back to back
About the couch of Hengist. Finn halted the attack.

Upon the couch rose Hengist, and bespoke him with a laugh: "Welcome, King Finn, from Hengist, though there be none from

Hnaef."

Upon his lips was laughter when his last word was said.

With a mock at the destroyer he fell back upon the bed.

Up came the Marshal Unferth. "Slay me those Danes,'' said he. Finn looked on Hengist's henchman and answered, "Let them be. For a little thing and scornful, over many have we slain. An I had not dealt with treason, well had the matter lain.'' Quoth Unferth: "It were folly to let his henchmen go. Who to the dead are faithful may bring the living low."

King Finn brooked not the saying. He bade the Danes depart. And he turned back from the battle in bitterness of heart. With darkness in his spirit, the trampling ranks between, He came not as in triumph to Hildeburh the Queen. All women have their sorrow. Is none upon the earth

But of great grief hath knowledge, though she bear or give not birth.

By the lover or the brother, by the husband or the son,
The thing that she desireth shall be hindered or fordone.
Withered the heart of Hildeburh, as she stood at the tent-door
Pondering upon her brothers, when Finn came back from war.
She wept there in great anguish, and could not rede him aright-
The slayer of her kindred or her husband come from the fight.
The whitest flame of anguish with naked hand they touch
Who have perceived their treason whom they love over much.
Finn kissed her, and she trembled. In anger and in shame
He turned him from his lady, and like steel his face became.
Sharp is the cup of anger, bitter the wine of sin,
And no man has so deeply drunken thereof as Finn.
But all of that fierce liquor to the lees he needs must drain.
And his heart was broken in him by the passion of her pain.
Hope and desire they barter, the very soul they slay.

To themselves they are the traitors who murder and betray.

Turn now to Oslaf and Guthlaf that departed by Finn's leave. Within the bound of Friesland they halted not to grieve. They came anew to Denmark and there they made them strong, For a winter and a winter brooding on Hengist's wrong. And Snaebiorn the singer dwelt with them in the hold. Only he plucked no longer the harpstring as of old. The singer when he sinneth casteth his strength away. Whoso the fool that playeth hath no more heart to play. But the two henchmen kept him and gave him bite and sup. He was to them a token to keep their anger up.

The plot that they had plotted to Snaebiorn they showed.

On the evening that he knew it to Finn he took the road. For he thought: "If I avert it, and I may end the wrong, Yet it may be vouchsafed me to sing anew the song. Through me began the turmoil. Well may it end by me. And I shall pluck the harpstring in Friesland by the sea.

So he came into Friesland. He came to the hall of Finn. Finn was gone forth, but Unferth the marshal bode within. He looked but once on Snaebiorn. From the wall he snatched the thong.

They beat once more in Friesland the singer of the song.

He sank beneath the scourges. The blood ran swift and red.
On the dunghill of the palace they cast him forth for dead.
Finn came anew at nightfall, and weary was his face.
Now was he never merry save in battle or the chase.
And not the hunter's hallo or the clank of battle-gear
Could drown the voice of Hengist yet echoing in his ear.
The bosom of his lady was soft to him no more.

So it is with them ever, on themselves that levy war.
Nor sun nor summer pleased him nor ship upon the sea.
Was not in all his kingdom so sad a man as he.

To Hildeburh her bower he wended as of old,

And tenderly he kissed her though his heart was cruel cold.

He lay in the bower a season and drowsed with his head on her

breast,

But he dreamed of a broken sword-blade and woke in fear and

unrest.

In bitterness of spirit he sat him down to eat.

But he dreamed of a broken swordblade and woke in fear and unrest. Who strives against the devil hath a hard fight to win.

And the devil and his angels were entered into Finn.

Oslaf and Guthlaf the henchman had ripened well their plot. For Snaebiorn the minstrel they sought but found him not.

Without him straight on shipboard they mounted with their host.
The next day in the morning they saw the Frisian coast.
Night came. Upon the beaches they made their landing then,
And marched to Finn his city with a thousand chosen men.

Finn woke at dead of midnight. Naught but the curtain stirred. To Hildeburh his lady he spake a little word.

And she woke and listened to him, and he said: "It is ill to bear
This weight upon my spirit. My soul is ta'en in a snare."
Now Oslaf and Guthlaf the henchmen to the hall had entered in,
And they stood behind the curtain and heard the speech of Finn.
Said Oslaf unto Guthlaf: "Shall we hold our hands this day?
It is ill for men in armour a naked man to slay."

Said Guthlaf unto Oslaf: "Too well I remember my lord
When ten men fell upon him and put him to the sword."

And again King Finn was speaking: "I shall waken in the morn,
And look at my men out fishing and the poppy in the corn,
And all things light and lovely, but evermore behind
Comes as it were the trampling of a battle in my mind.
When I wake at dawn, beloved, no more again to me
Cometh the light of summer, or the joy of earth and sea.
Yet I love thee, my beloved, and suffer and am fain.''

Guthlaf tore down the curtain crying: "Traitor, not again Shalt thou see the summer dawning or earth or sky or sea. Vengeance for Hnaef and Hengist, and a dog's death for thee!"' Forthwith a hell of torches flamed upward in the hall. There was a mighty shouting and the horns blared over all. Right upon Finn ran Guthlaf and lifted high the brand. Finn warded off the sword-stroke with the bolster in his hand. From the wall he caught a long-sword and swung it over head. The blood from Guthlaf's shoulder spattered on the royal bed. The King drove Guthlaf backward and Oslaf fled aside. Cried Finn aloud: "Ho! Frisians, they shall die as Hengist died." But the great hall was silent. No voice gave back the cry. No friend might give him answer, when Finn stood up to die. Only he saw before him the brandished torches flame, And the fierce eyes of foemen, and blood, and his own shame. And he cast one glance on Hildeburh and his soul was torn apart, As the world's wave of sorrow came breaking through his heart. Then like a king he turned him, dreadless for mighty pain, Where with seven chosen spearmen, Oslaf came back again. They speared him like a salmon. On the floor the red blood ran. King Finn had such an ending as became a gallant man.

Oslaf and Guthlaf with him looked a moment on the dead. Then they got them upon horseback and like the wind they fled.

Hard over heath and barren they galloped to the ships.
As they launched forth the galleys the lightning cracked his whips.
Out from the pitch-black foreshore they beat against the rain.
Since they sailed into the tempest no man has seen the twain.

How were these fierce deeds woven, on what relentless loom, The woof of the disaster through the changeless warp of doom? The courage of the gallant and the strength of them that strove Are overthrown and broken by the might of hate and love.

The fool caught in the meshes of the knave a tale may tell.
Rose Snaebiorn the minstrel from the dunghill where he fell,
That men who die hereafter the tale might come to know
Of other men who perished in the waste of long ago.

For good men die by folly, as by their truth they live
Girded by pain or splendor for a season fugitive;
But there is one deed for heroes, the greatest of the great,
Forever to be faithful, and stand unafraid of fate.
To go to the test unfearing despite the foe or the friend,
If the soul be in the venture, is to conquer at the end.

GOLDEN JUBILEE ADDRESS*

IRA WOODS HOWERTH

A traveler once greeted the poet Longfellow with the remark, "I find you have no ruins in this country, and so I have come to visit you!" Berkeley is not yet old enough to have any ruins, if we except North Hall on the University Campus, but it is old enough to have a history and certain traditions which warrant this celebration.

We have met, as I need hardly remind you, to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the naming of this city, and to dedicate a public and a permanent means of displaying on all suitable occasions our nation's flag. We thus combine, in the exercises of this day, an expression of civic interest with a manifestation of national pride.

The primary occasion of our coming together is more or less unique. It not infrequently happens that citizens assemble to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of a city; it rarely occurs that a holiday is declared and public exercises conducted to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the bestowal of a city's name. It must be, therefore, that the name of Berkeley has some unusual and special significance.

Shakespeare asks, "What's in a name?" and seems to imply that, so far as an individual is concerned, it is not important. There is a sense in which this is true. Doubt

* Delivered on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee Celebration of the city of Berkeley, California, May 24, 1916.