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April 19.
ALPHAGE.
Alphage, Archbishop of Canterbury, taken prisoner by the Danes, when they stormed and burned Canterbury in 1011, was slain by them at Greenwich on this day 1012, because he would not tax his flock in order to pay his ransom; thus blending the glory of the Christian and the national martyr.
But round the holy father pressed no prayerful reverent throng;
A mighty feast was spread, but not the blessed bread and wine;
And shout and song swelled loud and long, but ah! no strain divine.
Huge wassail held the heathen Danes, foul riot and fierce play;
The ravagers of England thronged her mitred father round,
But still the hero unsubdued, the saint serene they found.
When princes fled and nobles shrank, meek Alphage had not quailed;
When rushed the wolves upon his flock, the shepherd would not flee—
O only steadfast Englishman! O only valiant he!
His own heart's blood he offerëd; no ransom would he pay.
The shepherd for the sheep would die; their store he would not take.
Amidst those fierce foul wassailers, was holy Alphage borne:
Each drunkard tossed his battle-axe; hot glared each deadly eye;
Each swillëd throat belched forth the yell, “Pay ransom rich, or die!”
Lone Alphage gazed their fury down, and calmly thus did speak—
“My country ye have wasted wide, my people spoilëd sore;
And Jesu do unto my soul as that dear oath I keep!
With gold, the pure gold of His truth, He fain your souls would fill;
The shepherd for the sheep can die; He cannot work them ill.”
Rushed full upon the lonely saint with fierce infernal shout;
Each axe let fall a torturing stroke upon that reverend head,
And then with a fierce storm of stones his pangs they heightenëd.
O his was Stephen's cheer divine! the Lord stood by him there.
“O Shepherd tender above all! great Shepherd of the sheep,
Thee, Thee I leave my stricken flock, to love and feed and keep.”
Thy Martyr, Lord, hath won his crown; thine, England, died full well;
What warrior for the Father Land more nobly died than he?
Yet Alphage lights a flame no more in thy dull memory.
Sweet Saviour! 'midst Thy Shining Ones Thine Alphage bright doth shine;
Of all the martyrs' noble host, whose death was more divine?
O grudge him not the martyr's crown who died the martyr's death!
Thou speakest well, sweet-soulëd saint; yes, ever shall it be!
Who dieth to uphold the right, he dieth, Lord, for Thee.
In a conversation between Archbishop Lanfranc and Anselm, recorded by Eadmer in his life of the latter, Lanfranc intimated a doubt concerning the right of Alphage to the dignity of a martyr, because he had not been slain as a witness of Christ (pro confessione Nominis Christi). The more deeply discerning and heavenly-minded Anselm maintained Alphage to have been a true martyr, and asserted that to die for righteousness' sake (pro justitia) was to die for the faith. — Eadmerus, Vita Sancti Anselmi. As the martyr not of Rome, but of England, Alphage may be fitly celebrated by an English Protestant.
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