Alfred | ||
Oddune forbore to speak.
Self-confident, he left the Danes, and walk'd
Slow through the hostile ranks, and down the hill
And through the vale, and to the lofty spot
Where Alfred and his army pitch'd their tents.
The king beheld his coming, and advanced,
With mind presageful of no tidings good.
‘What are thy words?’ he said, ‘Uncertainty
‘Probes most my spirit.’
Self-confident, he left the Danes, and walk'd
Slow through the hostile ranks, and down the hill
And through the vale, and to the lofty spot
Where Alfred and his army pitch'd their tents.
The king beheld his coming, and advanced,
With mind presageful of no tidings good.
‘What are thy words?’ he said, ‘Uncertainty
‘Probes most my spirit.’
Alfred | ||