Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. | BOOK IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
132
BOOK IX.
ARGUMENT.
CEOLRIC'S return and narration; Bands from Wessex reach the camp. Consultation of Alfred with his chiefs. Sigbert rebuked for the violence of his spirit. An attempt to burn the Danish fleet resolved on.
Soon as the dawn appear'd, to Alfred's door,
Sigbert approach'd and enter'd. Pacing slow
He saw the King, who, wild of look, exclaim'd:
‘Sigbert, my plan is fix'd! This arm shall meet
‘Guthrum the Dane! This sword contend for her
‘Whom he hath made a captive! I must first
‘Rescue Alswitha; seek her dwelling out,
‘Then dare the conflict.—No! I do mistake!
‘My country first! Oh Sigbert! in my mind
‘Such jarring resolutions come and go,
‘That I am now like one whom thought hath left,
‘And manly fortitude.’
Sigbert approach'd and enter'd. Pacing slow
He saw the King, who, wild of look, exclaim'd:
‘Sigbert, my plan is fix'd! This arm shall meet
‘Guthrum the Dane! This sword contend for her
‘Whom he hath made a captive! I must first
‘Rescue Alswitha; seek her dwelling out,
‘Then dare the conflict.—No! I do mistake!
‘My country first! Oh Sigbert! in my mind
‘Such jarring resolutions come and go,
‘That I am now like one whom thought hath left,
‘And manly fortitude.’
Sigbert replied,
‘Early this morn, a man approach'd our fort—
‘A stranger, and inquired for thee; his name,
‘Ceolric.’ ‘What! Ceolric?’ Alfred cried,
‘Bid him our presence seek.’ Sigbert retired,
And now Ceolric enters: when the king
Drew near the cottager, and thus began:
‘I joy to see thee! Often have I dwelt,
‘With deep solicitude, on many a toil,
‘And peril unsuspected, thou might'st meet
‘In this thy journey. Welcome here! but say,
‘How doth brave Oddune fare?’
‘Early this morn, a man approach'd our fort—
‘A stranger, and inquired for thee; his name,
‘Ceolric.’ ‘What! Ceolric?’ Alfred cried,
‘Bid him our presence seek.’ Sigbert retired,
And now Ceolric enters: when the king
133
‘I joy to see thee! Often have I dwelt,
‘With deep solicitude, on many a toil,
‘And peril unsuspected, thou might'st meet
‘In this thy journey. Welcome here! but say,
‘How doth brave Oddune fare?’
Ceolric spake.
‘I travelled on, O, king, from Ethelney,
‘Cautious, and soon arrived where proudly rose
‘The castle Kenwith. Towering high it stands,
‘Firm as the rock on which it rests itself.
‘Now to a neighbouring hill I sped, and found
‘The Danes encamped at hand. As thus I watch'd,
‘Trembling, yet confident, I saw the foe—
‘March to the castle wall with swords and bows,
‘And the long spear, the ladder and the torch.
‘They came beneath! I saw the assault commence!
‘Then in my heart I shook, and felt cold dews
‘Start from my brow, thinking the hour was come,
‘When Oddune, and his gallant host, must feel—
‘Death near at hand. I view'd, in dread array,
‘Danes mount the walls, but what delight was mine,
‘When on the battlements, distinct I saw
‘The Saxon's busier sword. And now the Danes
‘Fell to the ground. I saw them fall, and seem'd
‘With mine own arm to force them to the earth;
‘At length, discomfited, the enemy
‘In rage retired.—The castle well I mark'd,
‘And on the topmost tower there stood a man
‘Looking methought for succour. Many an hour
‘I watch'd him from the hill, and there he gazed
‘Now eastward, and then west, and north, and south,
‘Alternate; and when eve came on, I saw,
‘Clear in the light horizon—darkening slow,
‘His head the latest object, looking still
‘For hourly aid.’ Alfred aloud exclaim'd,
‘And he shall soon behold me;—speak thou on!’
Ceolric spake:—
‘I travelled on, O, king, from Ethelney,
‘Cautious, and soon arrived where proudly rose
‘The castle Kenwith. Towering high it stands,
‘Firm as the rock on which it rests itself.
‘Now to a neighbouring hill I sped, and found
‘The Danes encamped at hand. As thus I watch'd,
‘Trembling, yet confident, I saw the foe—
‘March to the castle wall with swords and bows,
‘And the long spear, the ladder and the torch.
‘They came beneath! I saw the assault commence!
‘Then in my heart I shook, and felt cold dews
‘Start from my brow, thinking the hour was come,
‘When Oddune, and his gallant host, must feel—
‘Death near at hand. I view'd, in dread array,
‘Danes mount the walls, but what delight was mine,
‘When on the battlements, distinct I saw
‘The Saxon's busier sword. And now the Danes
‘Fell to the ground. I saw them fall, and seem'd
‘With mine own arm to force them to the earth;
‘At length, discomfited, the enemy
‘In rage retired.—The castle well I mark'd,
‘And on the topmost tower there stood a man
‘Looking methought for succour. Many an hour
‘I watch'd him from the hill, and there he gazed
‘Now eastward, and then west, and north, and south,
‘Alternate; and when eve came on, I saw,
‘Clear in the light horizon—darkening slow,
‘His head the latest object, looking still
‘For hourly aid.’ Alfred aloud exclaim'd,
134
Ceolric spake:—
‘Now night was drawing near,
‘And from the hill I hasten'd, whilst a thought,
‘That made my brow look solemn, troubled me.—
‘I knew my danger, yet remembering well
‘The import of thy charge, I strove to feel
‘Like him who fears his God, and serves his King.
‘From the high hill I mark'd a certain spot,
‘Where, as I fondly thought, I might approach,
‘Unnoticed, to the frowning battlements.
‘This spot I safe attained; when from beneath,
‘I look'd and feebly cried, Lend me your aid,
‘Good Saxons!’ All was still. I then again
‘Call'd louder, ‘Aid me,’ but a certain dread
‘So check'd my voice, that I could hardly hear
‘Myself say, ‘Aid me!’ Chilling blew the wind.
‘The night was dark and stormy, and I stood,
‘Trembling, whilst many a fear assail'd my heart.
‘As pondering thus, I heard some drawing near,
‘And by their speech perceivcd that they were Danes!
‘Close underneath the wall I stretch'd myself,
‘And heard them passing whisper, ‘We shall soon
‘Conquer this stubborn Saxon. Not one soul—
‘Shall live to tell what he endured to save
‘This castle for his master. Tho' we fail'd—
‘On the past day, when, with full confidence,
‘We dared the walls, yet that discomfiture,
‘Tho' hard to bear, shall on the second morn,
‘From this good time, when we the fight renew,
‘Inspire new ardour. We the sacrifice
‘Ere long shall offer up; there then shall need
‘No Valkyries to determine who shall fall,
‘For every Saxon's blood shall drench the ground!
‘This portion of the wall, shall next sustain
‘The Danish onset. Toward the wall they strode,
‘And eyed it well. I thought they touch'd me! still,
‘Lay I and trembled, when, a whizzing dart
‘Came from above! Discover'd fast they fled.
‘Now, to the man above who hurl'd the shaft,
‘Rising, I cried, ‘Saxon! a friend is near!’
‘When o'er the ramparts leaning, one exclaim'd,
‘What voice is that? Speak, or this iron lance
‘Shall pierce thy heart.’ Earnest, I him address'd,
‘I am thy brother Saxon! Stay thy hand,
‘And listen to me! Then he stay'd his hand.
‘He cried, ‘Thy name!’ I answer'd, I am come
‘With tidings to thy chieftain, from our king!’
‘When thus the Saxon, ‘Speed thou to the gate!’
‘Unnoticed, I approach'd it. He with joy
‘Led me toward Oddune.
‘And from the hill I hasten'd, whilst a thought,
‘That made my brow look solemn, troubled me.—
‘I knew my danger, yet remembering well
‘The import of thy charge, I strove to feel
‘Like him who fears his God, and serves his King.
‘From the high hill I mark'd a certain spot,
‘Where, as I fondly thought, I might approach,
‘Unnoticed, to the frowning battlements.
‘This spot I safe attained; when from beneath,
‘I look'd and feebly cried, Lend me your aid,
‘Good Saxons!’ All was still. I then again
‘Call'd louder, ‘Aid me,’ but a certain dread
‘So check'd my voice, that I could hardly hear
‘Myself say, ‘Aid me!’ Chilling blew the wind.
‘The night was dark and stormy, and I stood,
‘Trembling, whilst many a fear assail'd my heart.
‘As pondering thus, I heard some drawing near,
‘And by their speech perceivcd that they were Danes!
‘Close underneath the wall I stretch'd myself,
‘And heard them passing whisper, ‘We shall soon
‘Conquer this stubborn Saxon. Not one soul—
‘Shall live to tell what he endured to save
‘This castle for his master. Tho' we fail'd—
‘On the past day, when, with full confidence,
‘We dared the walls, yet that discomfiture,
‘Tho' hard to bear, shall on the second morn,
‘From this good time, when we the fight renew,
‘Inspire new ardour. We the sacrifice
‘Ere long shall offer up; there then shall need
‘No Valkyries to determine who shall fall,
‘For every Saxon's blood shall drench the ground!
‘This portion of the wall, shall next sustain
‘The Danish onset. Toward the wall they strode,
135
‘Lay I and trembled, when, a whizzing dart
‘Came from above! Discover'd fast they fled.
‘Now, to the man above who hurl'd the shaft,
‘Rising, I cried, ‘Saxon! a friend is near!’
‘When o'er the ramparts leaning, one exclaim'd,
‘What voice is that? Speak, or this iron lance
‘Shall pierce thy heart.’ Earnest, I him address'd,
‘I am thy brother Saxon! Stay thy hand,
‘And listen to me! Then he stay'd his hand.
‘He cried, ‘Thy name!’ I answer'd, I am come
‘With tidings to thy chieftain, from our king!’
‘When thus the Saxon, ‘Speed thou to the gate!’
‘Unnoticed, I approach'd it. He with joy
‘Led me toward Oddune.
‘Night was far advanced,
‘And as the hall I enter'd, I, the chief
‘With many a noble warrior, earnest saw,
‘Held in deep converse.’ Oddune thus began:
‘Thy business? stranger!’ ‘Doubt me not, I said:
‘I bear a message from our king! He look'd,
‘And each around him, eager, and so still
‘All seem'd at once, that I the sudden hush
‘Felt in my heart, and every word I spake
‘Seem'd to recoil upon myself. I cried;
‘Alfred our king is safe! He knows thy state,
‘And soon, to thy relief, will hither come,
‘Leading a host of men, resolv'd to die
‘Or rescue thee, oh chieftain!’ Oddune cried,
‘Withhold awhile!’ and suddenly uprose.
‘His breath was laboured, and he stalk'd along,—
‘I never saw such strides, and such wild looks!
‘But soon he stopped, and said, ‘Thanks to our God!
‘We shall not starve! Now, stranger, speak thou on!
‘I then declared all that thou bad'st me say;
‘Telling thy fix'd resolve; that Se!wood's shade
‘Was the resort of Saxons, and that soon,
‘Kenwith would see the royal banner near.’
‘When Oddune rose, and shouted, ‘We shall yet
‘Live to behold our king! right manfully
‘Will we defend these walls.’ Such fearful joy
‘Sparkling in every eye, I oft have heard—
‘Hath been, yet never saw; for to my mind
‘They seem'd like idiots, laughing now aloud,
‘And walking to and fro, confused, then fix'd
‘And pondering with stern brow! but soon I saw
‘It was excess of gladness, for tho' wild,
‘They were most gentle. Oddune thus declared:
‘Friends, I partake your transport. Now our hearts
‘Beat high with exultation, but, our joy,
‘Prudence must temper, and the certainty
‘That succour fast approaches, arm our minds
‘With deeper caution. Flee each to his post!
‘Instruct the sentinels! Watch well from far
‘The little cloud of danger. Triumph soon
‘All shall partake!’
‘And as the hall I enter'd, I, the chief
‘With many a noble warrior, earnest saw,
‘Held in deep converse.’ Oddune thus began:
‘Thy business? stranger!’ ‘Doubt me not, I said:
‘I bear a message from our king! He look'd,
‘And each around him, eager, and so still
‘All seem'd at once, that I the sudden hush
‘Felt in my heart, and every word I spake
‘Seem'd to recoil upon myself. I cried;
‘Alfred our king is safe! He knows thy state,
‘And soon, to thy relief, will hither come,
‘Leading a host of men, resolv'd to die
‘Or rescue thee, oh chieftain!’ Oddune cried,
‘Withhold awhile!’ and suddenly uprose.
‘His breath was laboured, and he stalk'd along,—
‘I never saw such strides, and such wild looks!
‘But soon he stopped, and said, ‘Thanks to our God!
‘We shall not starve! Now, stranger, speak thou on!
‘I then declared all that thou bad'st me say;
‘Telling thy fix'd resolve; that Se!wood's shade
136
‘Kenwith would see the royal banner near.’
‘When Oddune rose, and shouted, ‘We shall yet
‘Live to behold our king! right manfully
‘Will we defend these walls.’ Such fearful joy
‘Sparkling in every eye, I oft have heard—
‘Hath been, yet never saw; for to my mind
‘They seem'd like idiots, laughing now aloud,
‘And walking to and fro, confused, then fix'd
‘And pondering with stern brow! but soon I saw
‘It was excess of gladness, for tho' wild,
‘They were most gentle. Oddune thus declared:
‘Friends, I partake your transport. Now our hearts
‘Beat high with exultation, but, our joy,
‘Prudence must temper, and the certainty
‘That succour fast approaches, arm our minds
‘With deeper caution. Flee each to his post!
‘Instruct the sentinels! Watch well from far
‘The little cloud of danger. Triumph soon
‘All shall partake!’
Turning to me he said,
‘I thank thee, stranger! Haste thou to the king;
‘Convey our gratulations, and assure
‘The best of monarchs, nothing will we leave
‘Undone to serve him, here within these walls,
‘Or in hereafter times. Tell thou the king,
‘Our hearts are good. Tho' many a pressing doubt
‘Hath troubled us, one foe alone we fear'd,—
‘The waster famine! Tell him we rejoice
‘To learn his resolution. Bid him hold
‘No anxious cares for us; we yet have food
‘For many days.’—When Alfred, rising, cried,
‘For many days did our brave Oddune say?
‘That many day's provision he had left?
‘Then is he safe! I yet shall see his face!
‘Speak on!’—Ceolric answer'd: ‘I, the chief,
‘Told of the hostile threats which I had heard
‘When 'neath the walls, and of the second charge
‘He might expect from Hubba, on the morn,
‘Next to that coming. Me the warrior thank'd,
‘With true and hearty zeal, when I retired,
‘And through the gate escaping sought thee here.’
‘I thank thee, stranger! Haste thou to the king;
‘Convey our gratulations, and assure
‘The best of monarchs, nothing will we leave
‘Undone to serve him, here within these walls,
‘Or in hereafter times. Tell thou the king,
‘Our hearts are good. Tho' many a pressing doubt
‘Hath troubled us, one foe alone we fear'd,—
‘The waster famine! Tell him we rejoice
‘To learn his resolution. Bid him hold
‘No anxious cares for us; we yet have food
‘For many days.’—When Alfred, rising, cried,
‘For many days did our brave Oddune say?
‘That many day's provision he had left?
‘Then is he safe! I yet shall see his face!
‘Speak on!’—Ceolric answer'd: ‘I, the chief,
137
‘When 'neath the walls, and of the second charge
‘He might expect from Hubba, on the morn,
‘Next to that coming. Me the warrior thank'd,
‘With true and hearty zeal, when I retired,
‘And through the gate escaping sought thee here.’
Alfred replied, ‘Brave man, receive my praise!
‘Thou hast perform'd, with zeal, thy perilous part,
‘And I will well reward thee. Now return,
‘Back to thy home. I do not tell thee yet
‘My resolutions, but, to Ethelney,
‘Speed on, and wait my summons. Thou wilt know
‘For what I send thee, when within thy cot
‘Thou enterest, for a pearl is there, whose price,
‘Words may not name—but, guard it as thy life!’
Ceolric cried: ‘That I have served thy cause,
‘Yields me the pleasure which I fain would speak,
‘But cannot; my imperfect words are few,
‘Yet spring they from a heart, which thou may'st trust
‘With all thou hast at Ethelney. Farewell!’
‘Thou hast perform'd, with zeal, thy perilous part,
‘And I will well reward thee. Now return,
‘Back to thy home. I do not tell thee yet
‘My resolutions, but, to Ethelney,
‘Speed on, and wait my summons. Thou wilt know
‘For what I send thee, when within thy cot
‘Thou enterest, for a pearl is there, whose price,
‘Words may not name—but, guard it as thy life!’
Ceolric cried: ‘That I have served thy cause,
‘Yields me the pleasure which I fain would speak,
‘But cannot; my imperfect words are few,
‘Yet spring they from a heart, which thou may'st trust
‘With all thou hast at Ethelney. Farewell!’
Alfred exclaim'd, ‘Sigbert, what shouts are those?
‘Methinks of exultation. Haste! Inquire!’
Sigbert withdrew awhile, and now return'd,
Leading a chief, who thus the king address'd.—
‘At thy command, O monarch! we set forth
‘To warn thy subjects, and inspire again
‘Each languid heart with hope, when, as we reach'd
‘The skirts of this vast forest, we beheld
‘Exulting bands advance—Wessex' brave sons,
‘Hast'ning to serve their king. They all had heard,
‘O'erwhelmed with sorrow, that their noble prince,
‘(Indignant grown at that disastrous spirit—
‘That languid, cowardly, and prostrate heart,
‘Which o'er the land prevail'd,) had left his troops,
‘His few and faithful foll'wers, and retired
‘From War to Solitude; resolved that those
‘Who would not fight, when freedom call'd to arms,
‘Should groan with slav'ry. At the news, there spread
‘Throughout all Wessex, faithful still to thee,
‘One general panic, one unfeign'd concern,
‘That roused them from their slumbers, and awoke
‘The patriot's feelings. Through the Western Land,
‘Alfred! and War!’ was heard: whilst, now, without,
‘Wessex' first levies stand, brave companies,
‘Who but precede their brethren, hastening fast
‘To join their king, and follow where he leads.’
‘Methinks of exultation. Haste! Inquire!’
Sigbert withdrew awhile, and now return'd,
Leading a chief, who thus the king address'd.—
‘At thy command, O monarch! we set forth
‘To warn thy subjects, and inspire again
‘Each languid heart with hope, when, as we reach'd
‘The skirts of this vast forest, we beheld
‘Exulting bands advance—Wessex' brave sons,
‘Hast'ning to serve their king. They all had heard,
‘O'erwhelmed with sorrow, that their noble prince,
‘(Indignant grown at that disastrous spirit—
‘That languid, cowardly, and prostrate heart,
‘Which o'er the land prevail'd,) had left his troops,
138
‘From War to Solitude; resolved that those
‘Who would not fight, when freedom call'd to arms,
‘Should groan with slav'ry. At the news, there spread
‘Throughout all Wessex, faithful still to thee,
‘One general panic, one unfeign'd concern,
‘That roused them from their slumbers, and awoke
‘The patriot's feelings. Through the Western Land,
‘Alfred! and War!’ was heard: whilst, now, without,
‘Wessex' first levies stand, brave companies,
‘Who but precede their brethren, hastening fast
‘To join their king, and follow where he leads.’
Alfred the tidings heard, and hastens forth
With heart exultant. At his sight, the air
Teems with loud acclamations. He essay'd
T'address his subjects, but, more vain the task
Than his, amid the fury of the storm,
Who would some distant mariner forewarn
Of fatal rock, to which he onward drives.
He stood, but still the shout, ‘Long live the king!’
Rang through the air, and when, awhile, it ceas'd,
So solemn was the silence, and so loud
The deaf'ning noise that follow'd, that it seem'd
Like the deep calm, that, o'er the western world,
Strikes on the ear, when the fierce Hurricane
Retires, a little space, then sounds afresh,
With huger peal, and more exalted wrath,
Roaring along the firmament. At length,
The clamour died away, when, thus, the king.
With heart exultant. At his sight, the air
Teems with loud acclamations. He essay'd
T'address his subjects, but, more vain the task
Than his, amid the fury of the storm,
Who would some distant mariner forewarn
Of fatal rock, to which he onward drives.
He stood, but still the shout, ‘Long live the king!’
Rang through the air, and when, awhile, it ceas'd,
So solemn was the silence, and so loud
The deaf'ning noise that follow'd, that it seem'd
Like the deep calm, that, o'er the western world,
Strikes on the ear, when the fierce Hurricane
Retires, a little space, then sounds afresh,
With huger peal, and more exalted wrath,
Roaring along the firmament. At length,
The clamour died away, when, thus, the king.
‘Brave men, I hail you! Grateful to my heart
‘Are ye, O, subjects, in this hour of need.
‘To dare the war, to meet th' insulting Dane,
‘In one grand struggle, late had I resolved,
‘Supported by the few who faithful were:
‘For this I hither sped; and, to behold,
‘As at this moment, Wessex pour her sons
‘Around my standard—hosts whom I had deem'd,
‘(Most wrongfully) lost to their country's cause,
‘Assures me, that this struggle shall conduct
‘To peace and liberty. Let others shrink,
‘Inglorious from the conflict, to herself,
‘If Wessex be but true, altho' her ranks
‘May not with Danes compare, yet shall her zeal
‘Furnish new armies, troops invincible,
‘And compensate for each deficiency,
‘By her own courage. When the British spirit,
‘Like the roused lion, at the voice of war,
‘Rises in all his majesty of strength,
‘His eye is lightning, thunder is his voice,
‘His sword is pestilence, which in its course
‘Withers the mighty, and, in vengeance drest,
‘Spreads terrors, that might hold a world at bay.’
‘Are ye, O, subjects, in this hour of need.
‘To dare the war, to meet th' insulting Dane,
‘In one grand struggle, late had I resolved,
‘Supported by the few who faithful were:
139
‘As at this moment, Wessex pour her sons
‘Around my standard—hosts whom I had deem'd,
‘(Most wrongfully) lost to their country's cause,
‘Assures me, that this struggle shall conduct
‘To peace and liberty. Let others shrink,
‘Inglorious from the conflict, to herself,
‘If Wessex be but true, altho' her ranks
‘May not with Danes compare, yet shall her zeal
‘Furnish new armies, troops invincible,
‘And compensate for each deficiency,
‘By her own courage. When the British spirit,
‘Like the roused lion, at the voice of war,
‘Rises in all his majesty of strength,
‘His eye is lightning, thunder is his voice,
‘His sword is pestilence, which in its course
‘Withers the mighty, and, in vengeance drest,
‘Spreads terrors, that might hold a world at bay.’
Amid the general shout, ‘long live the king!’
Alfred his chieftains call'd. They crowd around;
When, thus, the king. ‘To view the first faint dawn
‘Of that returning spirit, which once sway'd
‘Our brave forefathers, raises in my breast
‘Tumultuous happiness. What further bands,
‘In freedom's cause, from Wessex may arrive,
‘Will serve our cause hereafter, but, declare!
‘Placed as we are, what course must we pursue,
‘With instant execution? Now to pause
‘Might plunge us in despair.’
Alfred his chieftains call'd. They crowd around;
When, thus, the king. ‘To view the first faint dawn
‘Of that returning spirit, which once sway'd
‘Our brave forefathers, raises in my breast
‘Tumultuous happiness. What further bands,
‘In freedom's cause, from Wessex may arrive,
‘Will serve our cause hereafter, but, declare!
‘Placed as we are, what course must we pursue,
‘With instant execution? Now to pause
‘Might plunge us in despair.’
A chieftain thus.
‘Since Mercia, 'wakened from her lethargy,
‘And now arous'd, hath promis'd us support,
‘With her brave warriors, would it not be wise
‘To stay the hour of action, 'till these men
‘Draw near to aid us?’ Alfred rose and cried,
‘Beware of baseless hopes, those unseen rocks,
‘Leagued with perdition! Mercia vows again
‘To send us succours—but, too well, we know
‘What Mercia's vows are!—Doth she, to her wrongs,
‘Add insults, in this last extremity,
‘By plighting oaths afresh? Degenerate race!
‘We have believed too long! Now be our trust
‘Dependent on ourselves! This be our hope—
‘Brave warriors, this our only confidence!’
‘Since Mercia, 'wakened from her lethargy,
‘And now arous'd, hath promis'd us support,
‘With her brave warriors, would it not be wise
‘To stay the hour of action, 'till these men
‘Draw near to aid us?’ Alfred rose and cried,
140
‘Leagued with perdition! Mercia vows again
‘To send us succours—but, too well, we know
‘What Mercia's vows are!—Doth she, to her wrongs,
‘Add insults, in this last extremity,
‘By plighting oaths afresh? Degenerate race!
‘We have believed too long! Now be our trust
‘Dependent on ourselves! This be our hope—
‘Brave warriors, this our only confidence!’
Another rose, and Alfred thus address'd;
‘If I may speak, O king! I will express
‘The language of sincerity, tho' not,
‘Haply, of wisdom. This would I advise.
‘Let us advance, down to the southern shore,
‘With march precipitous, and bravely dare
‘Ivar, to meet the war; so shall our swords
‘Subdue one half the Danes, before they join
‘Hubba the fierce, and thro' our suffering land
‘Wide-wasting ruin spread.’—Silence ensued,
‘When Sigbert rose. ‘Since liberty is given,
‘And all are free to speak, I must declare
‘My opposition. Let us not depart
‘Down to the southern shore, but instant speed
‘To seek the Danish army! Let us haste,
‘And Hubba meet, that chieftain at whose name,
‘The babe upon its mother's breast turns pale,—
‘Feeling instinctive terror. Let us count
‘The moments 'till the fight, and when it comes,
‘Call to our standard, havoc; bid each flower,
‘And herb, and lofty tree, all nurture scorn,
‘But Danish blood, that soon shall flow so fast
‘And in such living torrents, that the rain
‘Awhile may stay itself, and nature wear
‘A garb of crimson.’—Each in wonder look'd,
When Alfred cried, ‘your sentiments, oh, chiefs!
‘I wait to hear you.’ One arose and said,
‘What doth our king advise?’
‘If I may speak, O king! I will express
‘The language of sincerity, tho' not,
‘Haply, of wisdom. This would I advise.
‘Let us advance, down to the southern shore,
‘With march precipitous, and bravely dare
‘Ivar, to meet the war; so shall our swords
‘Subdue one half the Danes, before they join
‘Hubba the fierce, and thro' our suffering land
‘Wide-wasting ruin spread.’—Silence ensued,
‘When Sigbert rose. ‘Since liberty is given,
‘And all are free to speak, I must declare
‘My opposition. Let us not depart
‘Down to the southern shore, but instant speed
‘To seek the Danish army! Let us haste,
‘And Hubba meet, that chieftain at whose name,
‘The babe upon its mother's breast turns pale,—
‘Feeling instinctive terror. Let us count
‘The moments 'till the fight, and when it comes,
‘Call to our standard, havoc; bid each flower,
‘And herb, and lofty tree, all nurture scorn,
‘But Danish blood, that soon shall flow so fast
‘And in such living torrents, that the rain
‘Awhile may stay itself, and nature wear
‘A garb of crimson.’—Each in wonder look'd,
When Alfred cried, ‘your sentiments, oh, chiefs!
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‘What doth our king advise?’
Alfred thus spake:
‘Tidings have late arrived from Kenwith's towers,
‘That Oddune fears not; nor doth want so press
‘Upon our brethren there, that we should yield,
‘Plans of high moment. This your king's resolve.
‘Soon as the morrow dawns, we will depart,
‘Not to meet Ivar, but to burn his fleet.
‘To waste the Danish navy; to prevent
‘The foe's escape, when by our arms o'erpower'd
‘He flies before our onslaught, and again
‘Trusts to his barks. Cut off, and circumscribed
‘By Saxon might, the tiger-hearted Danes
‘Must fall before us. Never shall they more,
‘As they were wont in adverse circumstance,
‘Speed to their hovering ships, to pour afresh,
‘In some more favouring moment on our shores,
‘Their aggravated wrath. The time is come
‘When, in dread struggle, man with man must strive.
‘Our clift-bound isle in this tremendous hour,
‘Shall hem them in; so may they learn, too late,
‘How terrible, when roused, is Saxon wrath.’
‘Tidings have late arrived from Kenwith's towers,
‘That Oddune fears not; nor doth want so press
‘Upon our brethren there, that we should yield,
‘Plans of high moment. This your king's resolve.
‘Soon as the morrow dawns, we will depart,
‘Not to meet Ivar, but to burn his fleet.
‘To waste the Danish navy; to prevent
‘The foe's escape, when by our arms o'erpower'd
‘He flies before our onslaught, and again
‘Trusts to his barks. Cut off, and circumscribed
‘By Saxon might, the tiger-hearted Danes
‘Must fall before us. Never shall they more,
‘As they were wont in adverse circumstance,
‘Speed to their hovering ships, to pour afresh,
‘In some more favouring moment on our shores,
‘Their aggravated wrath. The time is come
‘When, in dread struggle, man with man must strive.
‘Our clift-bound isle in this tremendous hour,
‘Shall hem them in; so may they learn, too late,
‘How terrible, when roused, is Saxon wrath.’
The instant Alfred ended, shouts arose,
‘The fleet! The fleet! There let our vengeance rest.’
Nor hail'd they Alfred's words, with common form
Of placid acceptation, but like men
Who know their lives and welfare jointly hang
On that which they determine. Alfred thus,
‘Vet'rans, on whom our country's hopes depend,
‘Upon the coming morn, our march begins.’
When calling Sigbert, thus alone he spake.
‘The fleet! The fleet! There let our vengeance rest.’
Nor hail'd they Alfred's words, with common form
Of placid acceptation, but like men
Who know their lives and welfare jointly hang
On that which they determine. Alfred thus,
‘Vet'rans, on whom our country's hopes depend,
‘Upon the coming morn, our march begins.’
When calling Sigbert, thus alone he spake.
‘Regard me, Sigbert! I am one who loves,
‘The heart that meditates on truth, the tongue
‘That dares declare it. Much I prize thy worth,
‘Thy many services, and hope ere long
‘To make thee recompense, yet must I name
‘The thing condemn'd, tho' in my dearest friend.
‘Thy soul is filled with hatred and blind wrath;—
‘His deadliest foe, the christian never hates—
‘Sigbert thy mind is poison'd; thou dost thirst,
‘With craving appetite, for Danish blood,—
‘Not for the good it yields, but, to appease
‘Vengeance unbridled, and supreme revenge.
‘Thy wrongs are great! My wrongs are manifold!
‘Yet let us not exclude that holy light,—
‘Truth, from our minds. Have not the Danes some wrongs
‘To vex their spirits? Our Northumbrian prince,
‘Amid his castle's caverns, deep and dark,
‘Murder'd the Danish king?—the very sire
‘Of these our fierce invaders? Let this thought,
‘Not quench our zeal, nor stay our arm in fight;
‘But in the hour of triumph, calm our wrath.
‘Sigbert, with me thou must not wage the war, Thou hast profess'd thyself, singled of heaven
‘To bear glad tidings and good-will to men!—
‘How cam'st thou by that garb? A calling thine,
‘When in faith chosen, and with zeal fulfill'd—
‘Most dignified, and first of human kind!
‘Henceforth respect thy sacred character!
‘And, not the least of noble purposes,
‘Increase thy learning; strive, with me, to raise
‘Thy country, from its state of abjectness,
‘To the high port which Wisdom gives her sons.
‘The heart that meditates on truth, the tongue
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‘Thy many services, and hope ere long
‘To make thee recompense, yet must I name
‘The thing condemn'd, tho' in my dearest friend.
‘Thy soul is filled with hatred and blind wrath;—
‘His deadliest foe, the christian never hates—
‘Sigbert thy mind is poison'd; thou dost thirst,
‘With craving appetite, for Danish blood,—
‘Not for the good it yields, but, to appease
‘Vengeance unbridled, and supreme revenge.
‘Thy wrongs are great! My wrongs are manifold!
‘Yet let us not exclude that holy light,—
‘Truth, from our minds. Have not the Danes some wrongs
‘To vex their spirits? Our Northumbrian prince,
‘Amid his castle's caverns, deep and dark,
‘Murder'd the Danish king?—the very sire
‘Of these our fierce invaders? Let this thought,
‘Not quench our zeal, nor stay our arm in fight;
‘But in the hour of triumph, calm our wrath.
‘Sigbert, with me thou must not wage the war, Thou hast profess'd thyself, singled of heaven
‘To bear glad tidings and good-will to men!—
‘How cam'st thou by that garb? A calling thine,
‘When in faith chosen, and with zeal fulfill'd—
‘Most dignified, and first of human kind!
‘Henceforth respect thy sacred character!
‘And, not the least of noble purposes,
‘Increase thy learning; strive, with me, to raise
‘Thy country, from its state of abjectness,
‘To the high port which Wisdom gives her sons.
Sigbert astonish'd heard. His face now glow'd,
Now pale appear'd, whilst in his mind arose
Conflicting passions; when he cried, ‘Oh king!
‘Dost thou indeed declare, that I must leave
‘My sword, and my good armour; shun the fight,
‘And never, from this moment, more rejoice
‘O'er vanquish'd Dane?’ Silent, he stood awhile,
Then thus again. ‘Monarch thy words are just!
‘They well accord with something at my heart,—
‘An inward monitor, which in the hour,
‘Dispassionate, approves what now thou say'st:
‘Yet I am desolate. Each friend I loved,
‘These Danes have slain! Shall I, like coward, crouch
‘In low, base abjectness, and court the foe
‘To murder, unresisted?—see the Danes,
‘Thick as the solar atom, scattering round
‘All plagues, yet sheathe my sword? My very soul
‘Revolts at these thy words! I cannot check
‘This loathing of all mercy! I must live,
‘In fix'd and undistinguishable hate!
Now pale appear'd, whilst in his mind arose
Conflicting passions; when he cried, ‘Oh king!
‘Dost thou indeed declare, that I must leave
‘My sword, and my good armour; shun the fight,
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‘O'er vanquish'd Dane?’ Silent, he stood awhile,
Then thus again. ‘Monarch thy words are just!
‘They well accord with something at my heart,—
‘An inward monitor, which in the hour,
‘Dispassionate, approves what now thou say'st:
‘Yet I am desolate. Each friend I loved,
‘These Danes have slain! Shall I, like coward, crouch
‘In low, base abjectness, and court the foe
‘To murder, unresisted?—see the Danes,
‘Thick as the solar atom, scattering round
‘All plagues, yet sheathe my sword? My very soul
‘Revolts at these thy words! I cannot check
‘This loathing of all mercy! I must live,
‘In fix'd and undistinguishable hate!
Alfred replied, in slow and solemn tone,
‘Thou know'st not of what texture thou art made.
‘Thy many wrongs have so disturb'd thy thoughts,
‘So warm'd thy faculties, that thou dost see
‘Plain things confused. Sigbert, before thee lie
‘Two paths; declare thy choice! Be thou henceforth
‘Devoted to thy God; resign the thought
‘Avenging, and put on the ornament—
‘Accordant with thy calling; shew thyself
‘Prepared to teach, by having first been taught;
‘Or, else, renounce thy sacred character!
‘Throw off the hypocrite! confess thyself
‘The slave of hate, and all the passions, fierce,
‘Rude nature groans beneath; then wield thy sword,
‘Not for the end, but for the thirst of blood!
‘This thou may'st do, yet know the recompence!
‘It is the scoff of men, the frown of God!
‘In me it is becoming thus to say,
‘For Heaven hath rais'd me up, howe'er unfit,
‘To govern this his people, and to see
‘His teachers pure; and never will I view
‘Heaven's ministers, clothed in the garb of war.
‘Discard the priesthood! or, renounce the sword!’
‘Thou know'st not of what texture thou art made.
‘Thy many wrongs have so disturb'd thy thoughts,
‘So warm'd thy faculties, that thou dost see
‘Plain things confused. Sigbert, before thee lie
‘Two paths; declare thy choice! Be thou henceforth
‘Devoted to thy God; resign the thought
‘Avenging, and put on the ornament—
‘Accordant with thy calling; shew thyself
‘Prepared to teach, by having first been taught;
‘Or, else, renounce thy sacred character!
‘Throw off the hypocrite! confess thyself
‘The slave of hate, and all the passions, fierce,
‘Rude nature groans beneath; then wield thy sword,
‘Not for the end, but for the thirst of blood!
‘This thou may'st do, yet know the recompence!
‘It is the scoff of men, the frown of God!
‘In me it is becoming thus to say,
‘For Heaven hath rais'd me up, howe'er unfit,
‘To govern this his people, and to see
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‘Heaven's ministers, clothed in the garb of war.
‘Discard the priesthood! or, renounce the sword!’
Sigbert amaz'd, look'd up, then earnest cried,
‘With deep conviction I thy words approve.
‘I cannot wield the sword, and still retain
‘The spirit Heaven approves; yet do I feel
‘Hatred so deeply fix'd, and in my heart
‘Such wrath, such cravings, not to be subdued,
‘That I must grasp the sword.”
‘With deep conviction I thy words approve.
‘I cannot wield the sword, and still retain
‘The spirit Heaven approves; yet do I feel
‘Hatred so deeply fix'd, and in my heart
‘Such wrath, such cravings, not to be subdued,
‘That I must grasp the sword.”
Alfred replied,
‘I hear thy resolution! Yielding thus
‘Thy sacerdotal robe, thou now shalt have
‘Station of trust, where thou may'st hence display
‘Due courage, and promote thy country's weal.
‘Forth for the march prepare! The hour draws on,
‘When Denmark's fleet shall stream with Saxon fires.’
‘I hear thy resolution! Yielding thus
‘Thy sacerdotal robe, thou now shalt have
‘Station of trust, where thou may'st hence display
‘Due courage, and promote thy country's weal.
‘Forth for the march prepare! The hour draws on,
‘When Denmark's fleet shall stream with Saxon fires.’
| Alfred | |