Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
‘By all the gods whose battles we have fought!
‘By all the hopes that cheer us! by the blood
‘Our father curs'd this isle with, when he groan'd
‘In Ella's dungeon, not one soul shall live
‘O'er the next day! Hundreds my sword will claim
To stay its appetite! Its light shall gleam
‘New terrors on the dying! Hungry wolves
‘Shall hover round! The eagle from on high
‘Mark his near banquet, and with joyous scream
‘Stun death with horrors. To thy king at hand
‘These tidings bear! and let him for the fight
‘Hold his heart ready! for the coming morn,
‘When through the clouds the whizzing darts shall fly,
‘The buckler's thunder, and th' injured Danes
‘Shout 'mid the storm of vengeance! Now, depart!
‘Thy end is near!’
‘By all the hopes that cheer us! by the blood
‘Our father curs'd this isle with, when he groan'd
‘In Ella's dungeon, not one soul shall live
‘O'er the next day! Hundreds my sword will claim
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‘New terrors on the dying! Hungry wolves
‘Shall hover round! The eagle from on high
‘Mark his near banquet, and with joyous scream
‘Stun death with horrors. To thy king at hand
‘These tidings bear! and let him for the fight
‘Hold his heart ready! for the coming morn,
‘When through the clouds the whizzing darts shall fly,
‘The buckler's thunder, and th' injured Danes
‘Shout 'mid the storm of vengeance! Now, depart!
‘Thy end is near!’
| Alfred | |