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. |
| X. |
| XI. | BOOK XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
161
BOOK XI.
ARGUMENT.
Oddune escapes from Kenwith Castle, and arrives at Selwood Forest.
Now had the Saxons reach'd, 'mid Selwood's wilds,
Safely their fort. Whilst journeying on their way,
Absorbed in thought, the tread of multitudes
Distinct was heard. And often by the skirt
Of some deep wood, or in the valley, sounds
From the wild echo came, that to their minds
Convey'd a transient freedom from the cares
Still prone to rise;—like what the mariner,
Shipwreck'd, may feel, when, 'scaping in his boat
On the wide sea, he casts a ravish'd eye
At the warm glow of heaven—the setting sun.
Safely their fort. Whilst journeying on their way,
Absorbed in thought, the tread of multitudes
Distinct was heard. And often by the skirt
Of some deep wood, or in the valley, sounds
From the wild echo came, that to their minds
Convey'd a transient freedom from the cares
Still prone to rise;—like what the mariner,
Shipwreck'd, may feel, when, 'scaping in his boat
On the wide sea, he casts a ravish'd eye
At the warm glow of heaven—the setting sun.
Ere the grey dawn appear'd, the king arose,
And wander'd 'mid the prostrate host, whose shields
Upon the ground, lay scatter'd, deep impress'd
With honorable scars. The sun now rose,
Glowing refulgent; whilst the dewdrops bright,
Spread o'er the neighbouring trees, or couchant thorn,
Look'd like celestial spirits, to the eye
Of sportive fancy, that around encamp'd
To guard the sleeping Saxons.—Alfred spake,
When all upleaping, round him throng, to learn
Their future destiny. Thus he began:
And wander'd 'mid the prostrate host, whose shields
Upon the ground, lay scatter'd, deep impress'd
With honorable scars. The sun now rose,
Glowing refulgent; whilst the dewdrops bright,
Spread o'er the neighbouring trees, or couchant thorn,
Look'd like celestial spirits, to the eye
Of sportive fancy, that around encamp'd
162
When all upleaping, round him throng, to learn
Their future destiny. Thus he began:
‘Exult, brave men! the God whom you have serv'd
‘And in whose strength confided, hath appear'd
‘For you and me. I would not buoy your hearts
‘With hopes ideal, for I now declare,
‘Full and distinct, to every man around,
‘Our prospect still is hid in mists and clouds,
‘Thick and portentous. Tho' success hath crown'd
‘Our late endeavour, yet we know full well
‘The malice, the exterminating rage
‘Of these our enemies. Their fleet destroy'd,
‘Will but inspire their minds with deeper wrath
‘And more determin'd vengeance; for, our eyes
‘Soon will behold them, not, as heretofore,
‘Vindictive only, but, with wolfish hearts,
‘Fill'd with o'erwhelming rage, and black revenge.—
‘Subjects beloved! when of success I spake,
‘It was the final issue; for the race
‘Of future Saxons. We shall till the soil,
‘But they will reap! I must declare my thoughts!
‘Mine is the full propulsion of the heart,
‘Not to be check'd. Cut off from aid, the Danes
‘Before our growing might, at length must fall;
‘But, fatal is the process. I may die!
‘Nay, many round me list'ning, too, may die!
‘But, Oh! for what? Reserve your latest breath,
‘If in the fight you fall, to ask, for what?—
‘Your country's cause!—and with that thought expire.—
‘And in whose strength confided, hath appear'd
‘For you and me. I would not buoy your hearts
‘With hopes ideal, for I now declare,
‘Full and distinct, to every man around,
‘Our prospect still is hid in mists and clouds,
‘Thick and portentous. Tho' success hath crown'd
‘Our late endeavour, yet we know full well
‘The malice, the exterminating rage
‘Of these our enemies. Their fleet destroy'd,
‘Will but inspire their minds with deeper wrath
‘And more determin'd vengeance; for, our eyes
‘Soon will behold them, not, as heretofore,
‘Vindictive only, but, with wolfish hearts,
‘Fill'd with o'erwhelming rage, and black revenge.—
‘Subjects beloved! when of success I spake,
‘It was the final issue; for the race
‘Of future Saxons. We shall till the soil,
‘But they will reap! I must declare my thoughts!
‘Mine is the full propulsion of the heart,
‘Not to be check'd. Cut off from aid, the Danes
‘Before our growing might, at length must fall;
‘But, fatal is the process. I may die!
‘Nay, many round me list'ning, too, may die!
‘But, Oh! for what? Reserve your latest breath,
‘If in the fight you fall, to ask, for what?—
‘Your country's cause!—and with that thought expire.—
‘Oh ye, in after times, who know the worth
‘Of peace and liberty, who underneath
‘Your quiet tents, survey the scene around,
‘Smiling upon your offspring, whilst no dread
‘Of fierce barbarians haunt your midnight couch;
‘And when you wander thro' the thicket's shade,
‘Withhold the solitary path, lest there
‘Some vengeful Dane should crouch, oh! think of us,
‘Of what we bore, to purchase for our sons
‘The boon their fathers knew not!—In us dwells
‘A gen'rous anxiousness, a kindling hope,
‘To live for after times. Not to exhaust
‘The sum of usefulness,—upon one age;
‘But rather, with solicitude divine,
‘To scatter seed, which shall luxuriate
‘And upward spring, when he who sow'd has long
‘Slept with his fathers. This be my desire!
‘Subjects! endure the language of my heart.
‘As heaven alone foresees—who soon may die;
‘If war should lay me low, you who survive,
‘Forget not to declare, I valued life
‘But for my subjects' good. My little reign
‘Hath not disclosed my character. I feel
‘Such yearnings to be call'd—the faithful friend,—
‘The father of my people; I have pored
‘With such full fervency, upon the good
‘Of you, O Saxons;—I have cherish'd long
‘Such scenes ideal, when, upon my throne,—
‘So nobly fought for, and so hardly won,
‘I might uncurb'd consult your benefit,
‘And practise all I ponder'd, that, in truth,
‘The thought of sudden and untimely death
‘Doth half a coward make me. Did I say—
‘Coward? Oh! no. There is no trembling here.
‘I only dread, lest, in hereafter times,
‘This heart, now warm, should swerve from its resolves,
‘And, lost to honour, Alfred's name appear,
‘In the long list of lofty potentates,—
‘Of whom the record stands,—‘They lived, and died!’—
‘If He who searches man's profoundest thoughts,
‘And knows the frailty of our best resolves—
‘Poor human nature!—should in me behold
‘Th' inconstant spirit,—I desire not life!
‘I only pray that God would raise some up,
‘Of purer thought, and sterner fortitude,
‘To meet this evil day!’
‘Of peace and liberty, who underneath
‘Your quiet tents, survey the scene around,
‘Smiling upon your offspring, whilst no dread
163
‘And when you wander thro' the thicket's shade,
‘Withhold the solitary path, lest there
‘Some vengeful Dane should crouch, oh! think of us,
‘Of what we bore, to purchase for our sons
‘The boon their fathers knew not!—In us dwells
‘A gen'rous anxiousness, a kindling hope,
‘To live for after times. Not to exhaust
‘The sum of usefulness,—upon one age;
‘But rather, with solicitude divine,
‘To scatter seed, which shall luxuriate
‘And upward spring, when he who sow'd has long
‘Slept with his fathers. This be my desire!
‘Subjects! endure the language of my heart.
‘As heaven alone foresees—who soon may die;
‘If war should lay me low, you who survive,
‘Forget not to declare, I valued life
‘But for my subjects' good. My little reign
‘Hath not disclosed my character. I feel
‘Such yearnings to be call'd—the faithful friend,—
‘The father of my people; I have pored
‘With such full fervency, upon the good
‘Of you, O Saxons;—I have cherish'd long
‘Such scenes ideal, when, upon my throne,—
‘So nobly fought for, and so hardly won,
‘I might uncurb'd consult your benefit,
‘And practise all I ponder'd, that, in truth,
‘The thought of sudden and untimely death
‘Doth half a coward make me. Did I say—
‘Coward? Oh! no. There is no trembling here.
‘I only dread, lest, in hereafter times,
‘This heart, now warm, should swerve from its resolves,
‘And, lost to honour, Alfred's name appear,
‘In the long list of lofty potentates,—
‘Of whom the record stands,—‘They lived, and died!’—
‘If He who searches man's profoundest thoughts,
164
‘Poor human nature!—should in me behold
‘Th' inconstant spirit,—I desire not life!
‘I only pray that God would raise some up,
‘Of purer thought, and sterner fortitude,
‘To meet this evil day!’
Each Saxon round
At these last words, was sad. Tho' grieving, none
Spake of his grief. Words had no power to tell
The deep interior sorrows of the heart.—
Alfred again. ‘It soothes my troubled mind
‘Thus to have said. We now must Oddune seek,
‘That man magnanimous, who haply now
‘His last meal contemplates. Famine severe
‘We must avert. Soon shall that chief behold
‘Our waving banner, and if heaven permit,
‘Find at our hand deliv'rance.’
At these last words, was sad. Tho' grieving, none
Spake of his grief. Words had no power to tell
The deep interior sorrows of the heart.—
Alfred again. ‘It soothes my troubled mind
‘Thus to have said. We now must Oddune seek,
‘That man magnanimous, who haply now
‘His last meal contemplates. Famine severe
‘We must avert. Soon shall that chief behold
‘Our waving banner, and if heaven permit,
‘Find at our hand deliv'rance.’
All, aloud,
Shouted, ‘to Kenwith!’ Scarce had the sound ceased,
When in the air an answering shout was heard!
Thoughtful the Saxons look'd, when to their joy,
Oddune the brave drew night!—the gallant man,
For whom their swords were drawn, their hearts arous'd.
He flew to Alfred, kneeling on the earth
He clasp'd his hand. The king, amazed, exclaim'd,
‘Oddune! and is it thou? My doubtful sight,
‘I cannot trust it! let me hear thy voice!’
Said Oddune, looking up, ‘Oh best of kings!
‘It is thy faithful servant.’ Alfred spake,
‘How cam'st thou here? Declare!’ The chief replied
‘From the besiegers' sword, by night we fled,
‘Urged on by famine. Now are we prepared
‘To follow thee, oh king! and prove again
‘Our courage and devotion.’ Alfred thus,
‘Oddune speak on! Too deep an interest mine,
‘Not to require from thee each circumstance,
‘Since last we parted.’ Thus the chief began.
Shouted, ‘to Kenwith!’ Scarce had the sound ceased,
When in the air an answering shout was heard!
Thoughtful the Saxons look'd, when to their joy,
Oddune the brave drew night!—the gallant man,
For whom their swords were drawn, their hearts arous'd.
He flew to Alfred, kneeling on the earth
He clasp'd his hand. The king, amazed, exclaim'd,
‘Oddune! and is it thou? My doubtful sight,
‘I cannot trust it! let me hear thy voice!’
Said Oddune, looking up, ‘Oh best of kings!
‘It is thy faithful servant.’ Alfred spake,
‘How cam'st thou here? Declare!’ The chief replied
‘From the besiegers' sword, by night we fled,
‘Urged on by famine. Now are we prepared
‘To follow thee, oh king! and prove again
‘Our courage and devotion.’ Alfred thus,
‘Oddune speak on! Too deep an interest mine,
‘Not to require from thee each circumstance,
165
‘When in the woody glen, and by the side
‘Of that clear brook I left thee, I, alone,
‘Pass'd on disconsolate, and felt poor hopes
‘That better days would ever meet us more.
‘Whilst thus I sped, it was a moving sight
‘To see the earth untill'd, the orchard plat
‘O'ergrown with weeds, and ever by my path,
‘What once had been a dwelling, desolate,
‘The walls all black with smoke. How beat my heart,
‘When as I pass'd some cottage, roofless, burnt,
‘I saw the little garden, still adorn'd
‘With many an humble plant, and bedded round,
‘With the wild thyme, tho' half o'ergrown with weeds,
‘That, springing up, declared no master near
‘To check them, or relieve the scatter'd flowers
‘That from beneath peep'd out. Full vain to tell
‘The havoc of these Normans, all around
‘I mark'd their fatal tracks!—wide wasting fire,
‘And desolation wider!—As the west,
‘With heavy heart I reach'd, throughout the land
‘Tidings I sent for all of Saxon blood,
‘Instant, to join my standard. Soon I saw
‘Full many a loyal and intrepid youth
‘Throng eager round me, and again I thought
‘Success might crown our cause. Before the morn
‘We rose to practise arms. A braver band
‘No chieftain's heart might cheer. Still we went on
‘Collecting, and each day beheld our ranks
‘Grow with our confidence. But now the news
‘Reach'd us, that Hubba from the Cambrian shore
‘Pass'd over with a host of mighty men;—
‘Refresh'd, with appetite for fire and blood!
‘I then revolved what best might serve our cause,
‘And call'd for counsel. To resist were vain.
‘There was a certain castle, Kenwith, near:
‘To that we fled; when as we reach'd the gates,
‘Upon a hill, adjacent, we beheld
‘Hubba the Danish chief.
‘Of that clear brook I left thee, I, alone,
‘Pass'd on disconsolate, and felt poor hopes
‘That better days would ever meet us more.
‘Whilst thus I sped, it was a moving sight
‘To see the earth untill'd, the orchard plat
‘O'ergrown with weeds, and ever by my path,
‘What once had been a dwelling, desolate,
‘The walls all black with smoke. How beat my heart,
‘When as I pass'd some cottage, roofless, burnt,
‘I saw the little garden, still adorn'd
‘With many an humble plant, and bedded round,
‘With the wild thyme, tho' half o'ergrown with weeds,
‘That, springing up, declared no master near
‘To check them, or relieve the scatter'd flowers
‘That from beneath peep'd out. Full vain to tell
‘The havoc of these Normans, all around
‘I mark'd their fatal tracks!—wide wasting fire,
‘And desolation wider!—As the west,
‘With heavy heart I reach'd, throughout the land
‘Tidings I sent for all of Saxon blood,
‘Instant, to join my standard. Soon I saw
‘Full many a loyal and intrepid youth
‘Throng eager round me, and again I thought
‘Success might crown our cause. Before the morn
‘We rose to practise arms. A braver band
‘No chieftain's heart might cheer. Still we went on
‘Collecting, and each day beheld our ranks
‘Grow with our confidence. But now the news
‘Reach'd us, that Hubba from the Cambrian shore
‘Pass'd over with a host of mighty men;—
‘Refresh'd, with appetite for fire and blood!
‘I then revolved what best might serve our cause,
‘And call'd for counsel. To resist were vain.
166
‘To that we fled; when as we reach'd the gates,
‘Upon a hill, adjacent, we beheld
‘Hubba the Danish chief.
‘The castle walls
‘Scarce had we reach'd, when up the enemy
‘Came shouting, and a fierce and haughty Dane
‘Bore me this summons.’ ‘Instant spread thy gates,
‘Or, by immortal Thor! before the morn,
‘Death shall o'erwhelm thee.’ Thus I answer gave.
‘Insatiate Waster from the north, thy threats
‘Oddune disdains! Tell Hubba, ours a king,
‘Matchless for worth and valour, such as Danes,
‘Ere long shall learn to estimate. Away!
‘We have not learn'd to fear.’ ‘The man retired
‘Now night was drawing near, when thus I cried,
‘Saxons attend. Through all the castle search,
‘And name what food; for we are now cut off
‘From present succour. Instant search was made,
‘And soon I learn'd that there was left in store
‘Slender provision only. Loud I cried,
‘We will transmute that little into much.’
‘Now we resolved, with consultation due,
‘To send some man to tell thee of our state;—
‘Some cautious man, and resolute withal.
‘One of tried confidence I call'd—he came—
‘I thus address'd him. Find thou out our king!
‘Seek him alike thro' town and hamlet small!
‘Ask of the lonely travell'r, for behold,
‘On thee, and on thy mission hang our lives.’
‘Scarce had we reach'd, when up the enemy
‘Came shouting, and a fierce and haughty Dane
‘Bore me this summons.’ ‘Instant spread thy gates,
‘Or, by immortal Thor! before the morn,
‘Death shall o'erwhelm thee.’ Thus I answer gave.
‘Insatiate Waster from the north, thy threats
‘Oddune disdains! Tell Hubba, ours a king,
‘Matchless for worth and valour, such as Danes,
‘Ere long shall learn to estimate. Away!
‘We have not learn'd to fear.’ ‘The man retired
‘Now night was drawing near, when thus I cried,
‘Saxons attend. Through all the castle search,
‘And name what food; for we are now cut off
‘From present succour. Instant search was made,
‘And soon I learn'd that there was left in store
‘Slender provision only. Loud I cried,
‘We will transmute that little into much.’
‘Now we resolved, with consultation due,
‘To send some man to tell thee of our state;—
‘Some cautious man, and resolute withal.
‘One of tried confidence I call'd—he came—
‘I thus address'd him. Find thou out our king!
‘Seek him alike thro' town and hamlet small!
‘Ask of the lonely travell'r, for behold,
‘On thee, and on thy mission hang our lives.’
The king replied, ‘I saw him not. What course
‘Took the said man?’ Oddune replied, ‘Forbear:
‘Soon shalt thou know. The night now waned away
‘In earnest consultation, and we weigh'd
‘What best might serve. When from the watch-tower top
‘We spied the sun uprising, bursting forth
‘In all his splendors; with that goodly sight
‘We saw the Danes, nearing our castle walls.
‘I need not tell, to thee, what thoughts were ours
‘At that dread moment, when, before us, Danes
‘Raved for our blood.—All was full confidence!
‘The men who round me throng'd were resolute,
‘Patriots, who loved their king, their country prized,
‘Now panting, as of yore, to meet the foe.
‘From the high battlements we could behold
‘The work of death preparing, and the hour
‘Approaching fast when every Saxon man
‘Must prove his sword and heart. For many a day
‘This sight we saw. And now the foe advanced,
‘Prepared for storm and slaughter.—Near our walls,
‘There stood a mighty host, who with such shouts
‘Fill'd the surrounding air, that, for awhile,
‘We only heard, one sense predominant.
‘And now they raised their ladders, and began
‘To mount the walls! I need not tell, O, King!
‘How we received them. Never saw I yet
‘The Saxon's sword so busy, or their shields
‘Staying so many darts. We stood like men.
‘Upon that morn, tho' not unmindful, I,
‘Fought with less ardour, to myself it seem'd,
‘Than each man who around thee listens, still,
‘So dreadful was their valour.’—
‘Took the said man?’ Oddune replied, ‘Forbear:
‘Soon shalt thou know. The night now waned away
‘In earnest consultation, and we weigh'd
‘What best might serve. When from the watch-tower top
167
‘In all his splendors; with that goodly sight
‘We saw the Danes, nearing our castle walls.
‘I need not tell, to thee, what thoughts were ours
‘At that dread moment, when, before us, Danes
‘Raved for our blood.—All was full confidence!
‘The men who round me throng'd were resolute,
‘Patriots, who loved their king, their country prized,
‘Now panting, as of yore, to meet the foe.
‘From the high battlements we could behold
‘The work of death preparing, and the hour
‘Approaching fast when every Saxon man
‘Must prove his sword and heart. For many a day
‘This sight we saw. And now the foe advanced,
‘Prepared for storm and slaughter.—Near our walls,
‘There stood a mighty host, who with such shouts
‘Fill'd the surrounding air, that, for awhile,
‘We only heard, one sense predominant.
‘And now they raised their ladders, and began
‘To mount the walls! I need not tell, O, King!
‘How we received them. Never saw I yet
‘The Saxon's sword so busy, or their shields
‘Staying so many darts. We stood like men.
‘Upon that morn, tho' not unmindful, I,
‘Fought with less ardour, to myself it seem'd,
‘Than each man who around thee listens, still,
‘So dreadful was their valour.’—
At his words
The shout prevail'd, and when again the chief
Prepared to speak, the sounds more lofty grew,
Holding his words at bay. Like some tall tree,
Pride of the mountain, when the tempest bends
Its quivering head, and as it aims once more
To cast its foliage back, and gaze at heaven,
More furious feels the blast. When Alfred cried,
‘The coward never owns his cowardice.
‘Oddune, I know thee well. Speak on.’ He spake.
‘Hard was the conflict, but at length we saw
‘The Danish sword rise heavily, whilst heaps
‘Writhing o'er heaps, beneath the ramparts lay;
‘And all that yet ascended, came to know
‘What 'twas to die.’—
The shout prevail'd, and when again the chief
Prepared to speak, the sounds more lofty grew,
Holding his words at bay. Like some tall tree,
Pride of the mountain, when the tempest bends
Its quivering head, and as it aims once more
To cast its foliage back, and gaze at heaven,
More furious feels the blast. When Alfred cried,
‘The coward never owns his cowardice.
168
‘Hard was the conflict, but at length we saw
‘The Danish sword rise heavily, whilst heaps
‘Writhing o'er heaps, beneath the ramparts lay;
‘And all that yet ascended, came to know
‘What 'twas to die.’—
The contest now was o'er.
‘Back to their camp, we view'd the Danes retire,
‘Discomfited, calling most vehement
‘On gods, but not the living God! Our hearts
‘Felt as they ought to feel. From the first day,
‘Silent, there stood upon our loftiest tower
‘One anxious to behold if friendly force
‘Drew night to succour; for we yet had hopes,
‘Fond, but unwise, and not to be essay'd
‘By reason, that thou yet would'st show thyself
‘From unlook'd quarter; so the patient man,
‘Gazed, and for ever gazed.—Now anxious thoughts
‘Came on us, for the messenger whose way
‘Dangers beset: whilst each man felt, yet feared
‘To tell his feelings. When the night drew near,
‘As planning in our hall, to our surprise,
‘Before us stood a man, Ceolric named,
‘By thee, with a paternal earnestness.
‘Sent to declare of succour. When we knew
‘Thy welfare, and that soon the Saxon sword
‘Would fly to aid us, rapture were a word
‘Too weak to speak our joy. The herald told
‘Of words which he had heard, when 'neath the walls
‘Trembling he crouch'd. We thank'd him, and again
‘Bade him seek thee.’—
‘Back to their camp, we view'd the Danes retire,
‘Discomfited, calling most vehement
‘On gods, but not the living God! Our hearts
‘Felt as they ought to feel. From the first day,
‘Silent, there stood upon our loftiest tower
‘One anxious to behold if friendly force
‘Drew night to succour; for we yet had hopes,
‘Fond, but unwise, and not to be essay'd
‘By reason, that thou yet would'st show thyself
‘From unlook'd quarter; so the patient man,
‘Gazed, and for ever gazed.—Now anxious thoughts
‘Came on us, for the messenger whose way
‘Dangers beset: whilst each man felt, yet feared
‘To tell his feelings. When the night drew near,
‘As planning in our hall, to our surprise,
‘Before us stood a man, Ceolric named,
‘By thee, with a paternal earnestness.
‘Sent to declare of succour. When we knew
‘Thy welfare, and that soon the Saxon sword
‘Would fly to aid us, rapture were a word
‘Too weak to speak our joy. The herald told
‘Of words which he had heard, when 'neath the walls
‘Trembling he crouch'd. We thank'd him, and again
‘Bade him seek thee.’—
‘Now fast our food declined.
‘While musing sad at heart, sudden I felt
‘An animating power arise. I cried,
‘What once I heard thee utter, ‘Spirits brave
‘Shine most in peril. When the thunders sound,
‘And little minds exclaim, One moment more
‘And death will visit us, the brave stand firm,
‘And, tho' alive to danger, dictate calm
‘What best may serve them.’ Such let us be found!
‘Alfred this sword presented me, and said,
‘I need not name thy duty,’ and in truth
‘He needed not, I knew it. Hear me, friends!
‘Provision scanty only now remains.
‘Two paths present themselves. Within these walls,
‘T'encounter famine, or, made desperate,
‘Pass through yon gates at midnight, and, if doom'd
‘To meet our foes, fight manfully, urged on
‘By all that fear forebodes, or hope inspires.
‘Each answer'd, ‘Let us dare the sudden flight.’
‘This was our resolution.’—
‘While musing sad at heart, sudden I felt
‘An animating power arise. I cried,
‘What once I heard thee utter, ‘Spirits brave
‘Shine most in peril. When the thunders sound,
169
‘And death will visit us, the brave stand firm,
‘And, tho' alive to danger, dictate calm
‘What best may serve them.’ Such let us be found!
‘Alfred this sword presented me, and said,
‘I need not name thy duty,’ and in truth
‘He needed not, I knew it. Hear me, friends!
‘Provision scanty only now remains.
‘Two paths present themselves. Within these walls,
‘T'encounter famine, or, made desperate,
‘Pass through yon gates at midnight, and, if doom'd
‘To meet our foes, fight manfully, urged on
‘By all that fear forebodes, or hope inspires.
‘Each answer'd, ‘Let us dare the sudden flight.’
‘This was our resolution.’—
‘When eve came,
‘From the high battlements we saw the sun
‘Go down, resplendent, and anon, no ray
‘Shone through the sky. Now, where the Danish camp
‘Spread wide, we mark'd th'ascending fires, and thought
‘Of victims immolated to their gods;
‘Such was the light in heaven. We told our host,
‘Twelve hundred men, and, having left in view
‘The Saxon standard, through the gate we pass'd!—
‘'Twas darkness all. The hollow wind flew by,
‘And each could hear it rise, and die away—
‘So perfect was the silence.
‘From the high battlements we saw the sun
‘Go down, resplendent, and anon, no ray
‘Shone through the sky. Now, where the Danish camp
‘Spread wide, we mark'd th'ascending fires, and thought
‘Of victims immolated to their gods;
‘Such was the light in heaven. We told our host,
‘Twelve hundred men, and, having left in view
‘The Saxon standard, through the gate we pass'd!—
‘'Twas darkness all. The hollow wind flew by,
‘And each could hear it rise, and die away—
‘So perfect was the silence.
‘From the gate
‘We sudden turn'd, to keep the fatal spot
‘Most distant, where, with fires and shouts, the Danes
‘Held their mad orgies. Onward then we march'd,
‘Still as the night, unceasing. One long day,
‘Rapid we urg'd our course, and, on the next,
‘We met a chilling sight!—A sight which some
‘Little might heed, yet such as thou wilt hear,
‘O king, with sorrow: we beheld the man,
‘Whom, on a former day, we sent to thee
‘To tell our state, stretch'd mangled on the earth!
‘We knew the arm that smote him. Pardon me.
‘If I recount his worth, for he was one—
Too good to be pass'd by—
‘We sudden turn'd, to keep the fatal spot
‘Most distant, where, with fires and shouts, the Danes
‘Held their mad orgies. Onward then we march'd,
‘Still as the night, unceasing. One long day,
‘Rapid we urg'd our course, and, on the next,
‘We met a chilling sight!—A sight which some
‘Little might heed, yet such as thou wilt hear,
‘O king, with sorrow: we beheld the man,
170
‘To tell our state, stretch'd mangled on the earth!
‘We knew the arm that smote him. Pardon me.
‘If I recount his worth, for he was one—
Too good to be pass'd by—
‘I knew him well.
‘Beside my castle stood his cot, the seat
‘Of many comforts, and, tho' poor and low,
‘He loved it and was cheerful. When the storm,
‘The accustom'd chase forbade, I loved to stray
‘To this low cottage, where I learn'd that man
‘Required not wealth to taste of happiness.
‘The mother at her spinning wheel was there,
‘And round, her elder children, who, like her,
‘Earn'd well their bread. And ever as the eve,
‘With lengthening shadows, slowly gather'd round,
‘The sire, returning from his distant toil,
‘Beheld his child, that, to the old oak-tree,
‘Totter'd to meet his father; who, with joy,
‘Parents best know, quicken'd his tardy step
‘At sight of him, and with the outstretched arm,
‘Caught up his rosy boy, embracing him,
‘And bore him to his lowly dwelling near;
‘Where, as he entered, the fond smile arose,
‘Spontaneous on each brow. Then would he taste
‘The frugal meal, or, holding on each knee
‘A prattling infant, toy awhile, or tell,
‘Some direful tale, haply of Beli's sons,
‘Or Ludd's calamities, that made their eyes,
‘(Ready alike to weep or smile,) look up
‘In childhood's vacant wonderment. When late,
‘I, at thy bidding, reach'd the west, to rouse
‘Courage in all who loved the Saxon weal,
‘I sought him first. 'Twas as the eve advanced;
‘I saw him with his family, but not
‘Cheerful, as heretofore; a sullen gloom
‘Lower'd o'er his brow, for many a man went by,
‘And told of thy disasters, and the Danes.
‘Palsied with hopeless dread, full many a day
‘He had not left his cot, for when he saw
‘His helpless children, and a wife so dear,
‘He grasp'd his father's sword, and with his son,
‘Worthy of such a sire, a noble youth,
‘Stood, fearless, to resist what foe or foes
‘Might dare invade them. When he view'd me near,
‘(I yet behold him,) rushing out, he cried,
‘My master! Is it thou? And art thou yet
‘Spared in this dying hour?’ I answer'd not,
‘For creeping round my knees his children came
‘Welcome to bear; whilst from his mother's breast
‘One toward me bent; I saw his infant smiles,
‘And half forgot my sorrows. But enough!
‘Oswald I thus address'd. Shout, gallant man!
‘To raise the country hither am I come,
‘Sent by our monarch. We must one and all
‘Make the last effort. Looking firm, he said,
‘Here are my wife and children! need I say,
‘How dear they are? thou know'st it! yet e'en these,
‘I can forsake to aid the best of kings,
‘And serve my country! Speak, and I obey,’
‘Beside my castle stood his cot, the seat
‘Of many comforts, and, tho' poor and low,
‘He loved it and was cheerful. When the storm,
‘The accustom'd chase forbade, I loved to stray
‘To this low cottage, where I learn'd that man
‘Required not wealth to taste of happiness.
‘The mother at her spinning wheel was there,
‘And round, her elder children, who, like her,
‘Earn'd well their bread. And ever as the eve,
‘With lengthening shadows, slowly gather'd round,
‘The sire, returning from his distant toil,
‘Beheld his child, that, to the old oak-tree,
‘Totter'd to meet his father; who, with joy,
‘Parents best know, quicken'd his tardy step
‘At sight of him, and with the outstretched arm,
‘Caught up his rosy boy, embracing him,
‘And bore him to his lowly dwelling near;
‘Where, as he entered, the fond smile arose,
‘Spontaneous on each brow. Then would he taste
‘The frugal meal, or, holding on each knee
‘A prattling infant, toy awhile, or tell,
‘Some direful tale, haply of Beli's sons,
‘Or Ludd's calamities, that made their eyes,
‘(Ready alike to weep or smile,) look up
‘In childhood's vacant wonderment. When late,
‘I, at thy bidding, reach'd the west, to rouse
‘Courage in all who loved the Saxon weal,
‘I sought him first. 'Twas as the eve advanced;
‘I saw him with his family, but not
171
‘Lower'd o'er his brow, for many a man went by,
‘And told of thy disasters, and the Danes.
‘Palsied with hopeless dread, full many a day
‘He had not left his cot, for when he saw
‘His helpless children, and a wife so dear,
‘He grasp'd his father's sword, and with his son,
‘Worthy of such a sire, a noble youth,
‘Stood, fearless, to resist what foe or foes
‘Might dare invade them. When he view'd me near,
‘(I yet behold him,) rushing out, he cried,
‘My master! Is it thou? And art thou yet
‘Spared in this dying hour?’ I answer'd not,
‘For creeping round my knees his children came
‘Welcome to bear; whilst from his mother's breast
‘One toward me bent; I saw his infant smiles,
‘And half forgot my sorrows. But enough!
‘Oswald I thus address'd. Shout, gallant man!
‘To raise the country hither am I come,
‘Sent by our monarch. We must one and all
‘Make the last effort. Looking firm, he said,
‘Here are my wife and children! need I say,
‘How dear they are? thou know'st it! yet e'en these,
‘I can forsake to aid the best of kings,
‘And serve my country! Speak, and I obey,’
‘Never will come the hour that I shall lose
‘The touching and heart-harrowing spectacle,
‘When from his door he pass'd. The mother came,
‘Who silent stood before, and, weeping, cried,
‘Husband, may God preserve thee!’ Saying this,
‘Back she retired. The children now drew near,
‘And one, a blooming girl address'd me thus;
‘From harm preserve my father! Noble chief!
‘We have no other friend.’ ‘She thought my power,
‘Next to omnipotent. Ill-fated maid!
‘If living, thou hast sorrow yet in store.
‘We left the cottage. Never braver man
‘Join'd in thy service. Through the country round,
‘He journey'd, calling Wessex' sons to arms;
‘And soon a valiant host, to serve their king,
‘Came crowding near. I told thee how we fled
‘To Kenwith, and in that important hour,
‘Requiring some stout heart, I thought of him,
‘And sent him as a wary man, yet bold,
‘To bear our state to thee; and here alas!
‘Lay his sad corse! Each gazer round exclaim'd,
‘Poor Oswald!’ Ours were true and unbought tears.
‘We gave him sepulture!
‘The touching and heart-harrowing spectacle,
‘When from his door he pass'd. The mother came,
‘Who silent stood before, and, weeping, cried,
‘Husband, may God preserve thee!’ Saying this,
‘Back she retired. The children now drew near,
‘And one, a blooming girl address'd me thus;
‘From harm preserve my father! Noble chief!
‘We have no other friend.’ ‘She thought my power,
‘Next to omnipotent. Ill-fated maid!
172
‘We left the cottage. Never braver man
‘Join'd in thy service. Through the country round,
‘He journey'd, calling Wessex' sons to arms;
‘And soon a valiant host, to serve their king,
‘Came crowding near. I told thee how we fled
‘To Kenwith, and in that important hour,
‘Requiring some stout heart, I thought of him,
‘And sent him as a wary man, yet bold,
‘To bear our state to thee; and here alas!
‘Lay his sad corse! Each gazer round exclaim'd,
‘Poor Oswald!’ Ours were true and unbought tears.
‘We gave him sepulture!
‘But I must say
‘Something of Oswald's son, Montalto named.
‘Bold, gen'rous, and preeminent for worth:
‘Frank, lion-hearted:—rich in mental store;
‘Wealth not derived from others, but himself;
‘From the rich stores of a reflective mind:
‘By nature taught. When he beheld his sire
‘Eager for war, ‘I by my father's side,’
‘Loud he exclaim'd, ‘will meet the wasting Dane,
‘And fight for Alfred—while one drop of blood
‘Flows in these veins.’—The mother hasten'd near,
‘And gazing at me, with a tearful eye,
‘Said plaintively, ‘Chieftain, my heart will break!
‘Spare me my son! Take not Montalto hence!
‘Let one suffice! These little ones around
‘He must protect!’—I saw the weeping tribe!
‘Wilt thou withhold, thy censure? At that sight
‘My heart relented!—‘Stay!’ I to him spake.—
‘Be thou a father, till thy sire's return!’
‘On every visage, joy, a gleam o'erspread!
‘Not so Montalto.—With the settled brow,
‘One knee on earth, the youth thus answer'd me.’
‘O, chieftain, hear my prayer!—Restrain me not!
‘Thy will I prize, but I, whate'er thou say'st,
‘At such a time when foes devour our land,
‘Must serve my king and country!—If I haste,
‘(Nor long delay) to join the battle-plain,
‘Deem not my reverence less, O, chief, for thee!
‘Now must I sorrowing,—leave the little ones,—
‘The mother, best of mothers! whom I love—
‘Heaven knows how dearly! yet the whole I leave,
‘To that good Providence which governs all!’
‘Which said, he hasten'd to his cottage door.
‘Such is the stable texture of his mind,
‘That he, erelong, I judge, will join our ranks,—
‘No Saxon more courageous. With thy grace,
‘Him will I raise above th' unletter'd hind.’
‘Aye!’ Alfred cried, ‘Distinguish his desert.
‘Such men are rare, and we must honour them.
‘Merit with me shall never want a friend.’
When Oddune once again his speech pursued.
‘Something of Oswald's son, Montalto named.
‘Bold, gen'rous, and preeminent for worth:
‘Frank, lion-hearted:—rich in mental store;
‘Wealth not derived from others, but himself;
‘From the rich stores of a reflective mind:
‘By nature taught. When he beheld his sire
‘Eager for war, ‘I by my father's side,’
‘Loud he exclaim'd, ‘will meet the wasting Dane,
‘And fight for Alfred—while one drop of blood
‘Flows in these veins.’—The mother hasten'd near,
‘And gazing at me, with a tearful eye,
‘Said plaintively, ‘Chieftain, my heart will break!
‘Spare me my son! Take not Montalto hence!
‘Let one suffice! These little ones around
‘He must protect!’—I saw the weeping tribe!
‘Wilt thou withhold, thy censure? At that sight
‘My heart relented!—‘Stay!’ I to him spake.—
‘Be thou a father, till thy sire's return!’
‘On every visage, joy, a gleam o'erspread!
‘Not so Montalto.—With the settled brow,
‘One knee on earth, the youth thus answer'd me.’
‘O, chieftain, hear my prayer!—Restrain me not!
173
‘At such a time when foes devour our land,
‘Must serve my king and country!—If I haste,
‘(Nor long delay) to join the battle-plain,
‘Deem not my reverence less, O, chief, for thee!
‘Now must I sorrowing,—leave the little ones,—
‘The mother, best of mothers! whom I love—
‘Heaven knows how dearly! yet the whole I leave,
‘To that good Providence which governs all!’
‘Which said, he hasten'd to his cottage door.
‘Such is the stable texture of his mind,
‘That he, erelong, I judge, will join our ranks,—
‘No Saxon more courageous. With thy grace,
‘Him will I raise above th' unletter'd hind.’
‘Aye!’ Alfred cried, ‘Distinguish his desert.
‘Such men are rare, and we must honour them.
‘Merit with me shall never want a friend.’
When Oddune once again his speech pursued.
‘But now I tell thee of my progress here.
‘I knew that Selwood was our king's resort,
‘And having reach'd its confines, we, awhile,
‘Paused in uncertainty, when looking round
‘We saw a lonely damsel, with her load
‘Of fruits and cates, of whom we ask'd for thee.
‘Timid, she answer'd, ‘To the king's resort
‘I now am bound.’ Conducted by the maid,
‘We reach'd this castle, and with unfeign'd joy
‘Once more behold our monarch.’
‘I knew that Selwood was our king's resort,
‘And having reach'd its confines, we, awhile,
‘Paused in uncertainty, when looking round
‘We saw a lonely damsel, with her load
‘Of fruits and cates, of whom we ask'd for thee.
‘Timid, she answer'd, ‘To the king's resort
‘I now am bound.’ Conducted by the maid,
‘We reach'd this castle, and with unfeign'd joy
‘Once more behold our monarch.’
Alfred cried.
‘Subjects! thrice welcome after toils like yours!’
‘When, turning to his valiant friend, he spake.
‘Good Oddune this most piteous tale of thine,—
‘Of Oswald, that true-hearted cottager,
‘Afflicts me, and so hangs upon my mind,
‘That I could half have wish'd I had not heard—
‘What do I say? should ever king reject
‘Misfortune's touching voice?—a moment shun
‘Sorrows his subjects bear, and, not to hear,
‘Fancy they are not felt?—This luxury—
‘I know it not! my ear shall hear them all.—
‘This heart commiserate; and if I live—
‘To the extreme of possibility,
‘This hand relieve. Such are the duties stern,
‘I recognise. Kings should exist alone
‘To bless their subjects.—All that thou hast said
‘Mem'ry will hold with solemn faithfulness,
‘And if the hour of peace should ere arrive,
‘I may convince that wretched family,
‘That they have yet a friend.’
‘Subjects! thrice welcome after toils like yours!’
‘When, turning to his valiant friend, he spake.
‘Good Oddune this most piteous tale of thine,—
‘Of Oswald, that true-hearted cottager,
‘Afflicts me, and so hangs upon my mind,
‘That I could half have wish'd I had not heard—
174
‘Misfortune's touching voice?—a moment shun
‘Sorrows his subjects bear, and, not to hear,
‘Fancy they are not felt?—This luxury—
‘I know it not! my ear shall hear them all.—
‘This heart commiserate; and if I live—
‘To the extreme of possibility,
‘This hand relieve. Such are the duties stern,
‘I recognise. Kings should exist alone
‘To bless their subjects.—All that thou hast said
‘Mem'ry will hold with solemn faithfulness,
‘And if the hour of peace should ere arrive,
‘I may convince that wretched family,
‘That they have yet a friend.’
Oddune once more.
‘If not obtrusive, I, one other word
‘Would speak of young Montalto, for, in truth
‘He is no fleeting character; a son
‘With mind and heart of all rare qualities.
‘Some call him Bard, but he himself denies
‘Title so high. A shepherd youth is he,
‘Fond of his simple lute, on which he plays,
‘His flock beside, while oft the villagers
‘Crowd round to listen, and in festive hour
‘Join in the evening dance. But I must cease.
‘These are unsuited words for royal ears.’—
‘Nay,’ Alfred cried, ‘speak on. Some moments few
‘The busiest may devote to recreate;
‘And after these thy words, the change of thought
‘May best prepare us for more cogent things.’
‘If not obtrusive, I, one other word
‘Would speak of young Montalto, for, in truth
‘He is no fleeting character; a son
‘With mind and heart of all rare qualities.
‘Some call him Bard, but he himself denies
‘Title so high. A shepherd youth is he,
‘Fond of his simple lute, on which he plays,
‘His flock beside, while oft the villagers
‘Crowd round to listen, and in festive hour
‘Join in the evening dance. But I must cease.
‘These are unsuited words for royal ears.’—
‘Nay,’ Alfred cried, ‘speak on. Some moments few
‘The busiest may devote to recreate;
‘And after these thy words, the change of thought
‘May best prepare us for more cogent things.’
Bending, thus Oddune spake. ‘This shepherd youth
‘Montalto, with his crook, and rustic pipe
‘Roam'd o'er the hills, and made the vallies ring
‘With his sweet melody. A youth so prized,
‘Courteous, and kind at heart, and good withal—
‘Above the common standard, gain'd the smiles,
‘(O, loveliest moment of life's holyday!—
‘To which the elder turn, unconsciously,
‘With ever new delight, and fondly say,
‘Once, I was happy! That sweet Calenture,—
‘When love first beam'd upon his youthful heart—
‘That verdant spot! where memory lingers still,
‘Loath leaving it!) Montalto gain'd the smiles,
‘Reciprocal, of one a shepherd maid,
‘Lovely as chaste, while all the country round
‘Heaped praises on Matilda, and her swain.
‘To tempt her to the early walk, when dews
‘Hung on the thorn,—creation smiling round,
‘This lover's song he late addressed to her.
‘Montalto, with his crook, and rustic pipe
‘Roam'd o'er the hills, and made the vallies ring
‘With his sweet melody. A youth so prized,
‘Courteous, and kind at heart, and good withal—
175
‘(O, loveliest moment of life's holyday!—
‘To which the elder turn, unconsciously,
‘With ever new delight, and fondly say,
‘Once, I was happy! That sweet Calenture,—
‘When love first beam'd upon his youthful heart—
‘That verdant spot! where memory lingers still,
‘Loath leaving it!) Montalto gain'd the smiles,
‘Reciprocal, of one a shepherd maid,
‘Lovely as chaste, while all the country round
‘Heaped praises on Matilda, and her swain.
‘To tempt her to the early walk, when dews
‘Hung on the thorn,—creation smiling round,
‘This lover's song he late addressed to her.
Come Matilda, blooming Fair,
Hear thine own Montalto call;
With the lark will we repair
To the loud, rough waterfall.
Hear thine own Montalto call;
With the lark will we repair
To the loud, rough waterfall.
Who can view the woodbine wreathe,
Lovely guardian, round the bower;
Who the early perfume breathe,
And not hail the balmy hour.
Lovely guardian, round the bower;
Who the early perfume breathe,
And not hail the balmy hour.
Now, wandering thro' the meadow wide,
With the wood-note warbling loud;
Now by the the clear meandering tide,
Gliding, like a monarch proud.
With the wood-note warbling loud;
Now by the the clear meandering tide,
Gliding, like a monarch proud.
Who can view the yellow corn,
To the reaper bending low;
Or the ruby cloud of Morn,
Nor the grateful heart o'erflow.
To the reaper bending low;
Or the ruby cloud of Morn,
Nor the grateful heart o'erflow.
What with nature may compare,
To awake the lofty thought;
Nature, ever new and fair,
Now to pomp of glory wrought!
To awake the lofty thought;
Nature, ever new and fair,
Now to pomp of glory wrought!
176
Oh! what proof, what line on line,
Teeming through our Earthly Ball;—
With a plenitude divine,
Of a Great—Eternal All!
Teeming through our Earthly Ball;—
With a plenitude divine,
Of a Great—Eternal All!
Before the fervent noon-tide ray,
Mark the air, with quiet deep;
While yet the ruddy dawn delay,
And with dew the flowret weep,
Mark the air, with quiet deep;
While yet the ruddy dawn delay,
And with dew the flowret weep,
All alone will we retreat,
Far from every prying eye;
And beguile the moment fleet
With delightful coloquy.
Far from every prying eye;
And beguile the moment fleet
With delightful coloquy.
Come, improve the happy time,
While we think, the whole may fade;
In the morning hour of prime,
Come, Matilda, blooming Maid!
While we think, the whole may fade;
In the morning hour of prime,
Come, Matilda, blooming Maid!
Alfred thus spake; ‘Good Oddune, at this hour,
‘Thoughts of high import fill my mind, yet, know,
‘Should heaven our efforts bless, and we, the Danes
‘Hurl from our land, remembrance I will keep
‘Of young Montalto, and his promised bride;—
‘Claim'd by their own desert, and to award
‘Some honor to poor Oswald!—Spirit his
‘Refreshing to the burden'd memory—
‘That turns from names inferior, to survey
‘Our human nature, in its grandest form.
‘Cramp'd by the power of circumstance, I now
‘Can only heave the sigh, and wish, not act.
‘Thoughts of high import fill my mind, yet, know,
‘Should heaven our efforts bless, and we, the Danes
‘Hurl from our land, remembrance I will keep
‘Of young Montalto, and his promised bride;—
‘Claim'd by their own desert, and to award
‘Some honor to poor Oswald!—Spirit his
‘Refreshing to the burden'd memory—
‘That turns from names inferior, to survey
‘Our human nature, in its grandest form.
‘Cramp'd by the power of circumstance, I now
‘Can only heave the sigh, and wish, not act.
‘Most noble king!’ Oddune obeisant cried,
‘I have one other Lay, safely lock'd up
‘In this my mem'ry of the shepherd youth's—
‘Montalto! would'st thou hear it at this hour?
‘I prize it, tho' the chaff preponderates.
‘It has a secret meaning, to be sought
‘Amid the rubbish that encumbers it.—
‘Fit for the winter eve,—the christmas fire,
‘When stories fly like sparks from Vulcan's forge;
‘Fancy predominant. But thou shalt judge.’
Alfred, with passing smile, this answer made.
‘Oddune! thou'rt smitten by old Poesy.
‘I like thee better for thy little weakness.
‘I too am touch'd by the same malady.
‘But this in happier times. Yet may I say—
‘When evening closes round, few moments then
‘I may bestow upon Montalto's Lay:
‘Now sterner duties call us. War is near!
‘We must prepare for battle! haste thou forth!
‘I follow thee. Our all is now at stake!
‘The Danes, to madness stung—soon will present
‘The hostile front, calling our valour forth.’
‘I have one other Lay, safely lock'd up
‘In this my mem'ry of the shepherd youth's—
‘Montalto! would'st thou hear it at this hour?
‘I prize it, tho' the chaff preponderates.
‘It has a secret meaning, to be sought
177
‘Fit for the winter eve,—the christmas fire,
‘When stories fly like sparks from Vulcan's forge;
‘Fancy predominant. But thou shalt judge.’
Alfred, with passing smile, this answer made.
‘Oddune! thou'rt smitten by old Poesy.
‘I like thee better for thy little weakness.
‘I too am touch'd by the same malady.
‘But this in happier times. Yet may I say—
‘When evening closes round, few moments then
‘I may bestow upon Montalto's Lay:
‘Now sterner duties call us. War is near!
‘We must prepare for battle! haste thou forth!
‘I follow thee. Our all is now at stake!
‘The Danes, to madness stung—soon will present
‘The hostile front, calling our valour forth.’
Oddune obey'd; when thro' the Saxon hosts,
Joyful he ranged, and found, with bounding heart,
One hope predominant; for all aspired
To meet the infuriate wasters of their land.—
Now, at the midnight hour, when stillness reign'd,
Oddune the king approach'd. Thus he began.
‘This is Montalto's Lay.
Joyful he ranged, and found, with bounding heart,
One hope predominant; for all aspired
To meet the infuriate wasters of their land.—
Now, at the midnight hour, when stillness reign'd,
Oddune the king approach'd. Thus he began.
‘This is Montalto's Lay.
In Albion's olden times was born,
No matter where,—a lovely Mary:
Her cheek was like the blush of morn,
Lightsome and gay as Fawn or Fairy.
But still, she was not free from ailing;
She had one small, but common failing.
No matter where,—a lovely Mary:
Her cheek was like the blush of morn,
Lightsome and gay as Fawn or Fairy.
But still, she was not free from ailing;
She had one small, but common failing.
To Wish, and Wish, was her delight,—
More changeful than the Shepherd's fold.
The weather never suited quite,
It was too hot,—or else too cold:
And then,—some distant object pleased her,
But what was present always teazed her.
More changeful than the Shepherd's fold.
The weather never suited quite,
It was too hot,—or else too cold:
And then,—some distant object pleased her,
But what was present always teazed her.
178
A Wizard Sage, with stately stride
Once cross'd her path, and saw her sad.
‘What ails thee? Gentle Maid!’ he cried,
‘I like the damsel blithe and glad,’
Oh, Sir!' she said, ‘I wish in vain,
‘And when I'm weary, wish again.
Once cross'd her path, and saw her sad.
‘What ails thee? Gentle Maid!’ he cried,
‘I like the damsel blithe and glad,’
Oh, Sir!' she said, ‘I wish in vain,
‘And when I'm weary, wish again.
‘I see the hoar-frost deck the sprays,
‘But Winter has no charms for me;
‘I love the long and joyous days
‘When nature smiles in ecstasy.’
‘'Tis done!’ the Wizard cried, when, lo!
The heavens with Cancer's radiance glow.
‘But Winter has no charms for me;
‘I love the long and joyous days
‘When nature smiles in ecstasy.’
‘'Tis done!’ the Wizard cried, when, lo!
The heavens with Cancer's radiance glow.
Pleased with the change, the Sun she hails.
But soon his scorching beams oppress'd her;
‘I lïke,’ she cried, ‘bleak Winter's gales,
‘His ice-bound streams, and rugged vesture;—
‘When parties,—meeting with delight,
‘Recount the freaks of Imp or Sprite.—
But soon his scorching beams oppress'd her;
‘I lïke,’ she cried, ‘bleak Winter's gales,
‘His ice-bound streams, and rugged vesture;—
‘When parties,—meeting with delight,
‘Recount the freaks of Imp or Sprite.—
‘When, 'mid the crackling hearth, all pale,
‘We hear the tempest rave without;
‘Repeating Ghost or Elfin tale,
‘Till all their nearest neighbours doubt,
‘And see, distinct, in earth or air,
‘Some Spirit glide, or Goblin glare.’
‘We hear the tempest rave without;
‘Repeating Ghost or Elfin tale,
‘Till all their nearest neighbours doubt,
‘And see, distinct, in earth or air,
‘Some Spirit glide, or Goblin glare.’
The Wizard heard, when, instant, round,
Old Frost's teeth-chattering empire spread;—
The leafless tree, the iron ground,
With dark'ning clouds, portentous! dread!
The snows now mantle vale and hill,
And the wintry winds are loud and chill!
Old Frost's teeth-chattering empire spread;—
The leafless tree, the iron ground,
With dark'ning clouds, portentous! dread!
The snows now mantle vale and hill,
And the wintry winds are loud and chill!
The maiden, shrinking, shivering, cried,—
‘I wish sweet Summer's balm were near!’
The Wizard heard, and thus replied,—
‘Haste Summer!’ when the prospect drear,—
Vanish'd! and, at the potent sound,
All forms luxuriant reign around!
‘I wish sweet Summer's balm were near!’
The Wizard heard, and thus replied,—
‘Haste Summer!’ when the prospect drear,—
Vanish'd! and, at the potent sound,
All forms luxuriant reign around!
179
When thus the Wizard.—‘From this hour,
‘Summers and Winters, thee obey!
‘Call either! Well improve thy power!’—
Exulting in imperial sway,
With views, like ocean, unconfined,
All rapturous visions fill her mind.
‘Summers and Winters, thee obey!
‘Call either! Well improve thy power!’—
Exulting in imperial sway,
With views, like ocean, unconfined,
All rapturous visions fill her mind.
She first on Winter calls, and then,
The Summer pleas'd her taste the best;
Then surly Winter comes again,
And then the Hours, in garlands drest.
Each follows each, as Fancy reasons,
And thus successive pass the seasons.
The Summer pleas'd her taste the best;
Then surly Winter comes again,
And then the Hours, in garlands drest.
Each follows each, as Fancy reasons,
And thus successive pass the seasons.
Alas! in her tumultuous dream,
She thought not of the march of Years;
She heeds not Time's retreating stream,
That never in its flood appears!
And now, on her once lovely face,
The eye the stamp of age might trace!
She thought not of the march of Years;
She heeds not Time's retreating stream,
That never in its flood appears!
And now, on her once lovely face,
The eye the stamp of age might trace!
It chanced that on a summer's morn,
She, musing, stray'd o'er neighbouring mountain;
And as she sped thro' brake and thorn,
She look'd into a glassy fountain.
She starts! she shrieks! the frantic cry
Proclaims the sufferer's agony!
She, musing, stray'd o'er neighbouring mountain;
And as she sped thro' brake and thorn,
She look'd into a glassy fountain.
She starts! she shrieks! the frantic cry
Proclaims the sufferer's agony!
In loneliness she breathes her pain;—
‘How shall my heart its anguish hide!
‘I never shall be young again
The bud has droop'd, the flower has died!
‘Wishes have been my broken reed,
‘And my days have pass'd with lightning speed!’
‘How shall my heart its anguish hide!
‘I never shall be young again
The bud has droop'd, the flower has died!
‘Wishes have been my broken reed,
‘And my days have pass'd with lightning speed!’
While in the depths of sorrow drown'd
(Where hope no transient gleam might borrow;)
The Wizard Mary weeping found.
When thus she faltering told her sorrow;—
‘For wishes I my life have sold!
‘I once was young, but now am old!
(Where hope no transient gleam might borrow;)
The Wizard Mary weeping found.
When thus she faltering told her sorrow;—
‘For wishes I my life have sold!
‘I once was young, but now am old!
180
‘I scarce have breathed th' inspiring air—
‘Before my mortal periods close:
‘The slow-declining years—prepare
The weary spirit for repose;
‘And reverend is the mouldering tree,
‘But youth and age are one to me.’
‘Before my mortal periods close:
‘The slow-declining years—prepare
The weary spirit for repose;
‘And reverend is the mouldering tree,
‘But youth and age are one to me.’
The Wizard thus.—‘I read thy fate!
‘In vain thou mourn'st thy days mispent!
‘Knowledge with thee hath come too late,—
‘So steep'd in Thankless Discontent!
‘Mourn on,—thy wasted hours and years,
‘And shed thine unavailing tears.’
‘In vain thou mourn'st thy days mispent!
‘Knowledge with thee hath come too late,—
‘So steep'd in Thankless Discontent!
‘Mourn on,—thy wasted hours and years,
‘And shed thine unavailing tears.’
Bereft, disconsolate, opprest!
The mourner stands, with downcast head!
Commotion revels in her breast,
But utterance from her lips has fled.
The Tear,—to magic power allied,
Now softens him who came to chide!
The mourner stands, with downcast head!
Commotion revels in her breast,
But utterance from her lips has fled.
The Tear,—to magic power allied,
Now softens him who came to chide!
‘Thou hast been first in Folly's train,
‘But if, (he utter'd) at this time,
‘I raise my Wand, and once again
‘Restore thee to thy pristine prime;
‘Wilt thou renounce thy Wishing Chains?—
‘And deem that best which Heaven ordains?’
‘But if, (he utter'd) at this time,
‘I raise my Wand, and once again
‘Restore thee to thy pristine prime;
‘Wilt thou renounce thy Wishing Chains?—
‘And deem that best which Heaven ordains?’
She cried,—joy flashing from her eyes,
‘Let others grasp at phantoms vain,
‘Wishes! your treacheries I despise!
‘I spurn my fetters with disdain!
‘Give me my youth, and I will strive
‘To keep Contentment's spark alive.’
‘Let others grasp at phantoms vain,
‘Wishes! your treacheries I despise!
‘I spurn my fetters with disdain!
‘Give me my youth, and I will strive
‘To keep Contentment's spark alive.’
He touch'd her, when she stands arrayed
All lovely as the roseate Spring!
The graceful mien!—the blooming maid!
(Brief honors! ever on the wing!)
When thus the Sage, impressive spake;—
‘To nobler aspirations wake!
All lovely as the roseate Spring!
The graceful mien!—the blooming maid!
(Brief honors! ever on the wing!)
When thus the Sage, impressive spake;—
‘To nobler aspirations wake!
181
With thee all excellence is youth,
‘Unmindful of thy nobler part!
‘Prize rather Wisdom, Virtue, Truth;
‘The graces of the mind and heart!
‘These shall survive, and lustre shed,
‘When beauty fades, and youth is fled!’
‘Unmindful of thy nobler part!
‘Prize rather Wisdom, Virtue, Truth;
‘The graces of the mind and heart!
‘These shall survive, and lustre shed,
‘When beauty fades, and youth is fled!’
‘The days of mortal man are few.—
‘There is a heritage in sight!
‘That object steadfast, keep in view,
‘And plume thy pinions for the flight!
‘Man's life is emblem'd by the grass!
‘Improve the moments as they pass!’
‘There is a heritage in sight!
‘That object steadfast, keep in view,
‘And plume thy pinions for the flight!
‘Man's life is emblem'd by the grass!
‘Improve the moments as they pass!’
‘A dream! A lullaby!’ Alfred exclaim'd.
‘Yet hath it one redeeming quality.—
‘There is a prize,—a heritage before us!
‘Oddune! may'st thou, may I, and all we love,
‘That greatest of all interests keep in sight!’
‘Heaven grant it!’ Oddune cried.
‘All else is chaff!’
‘Yet hath it one redeeming quality.—
‘There is a prize,—a heritage before us!
‘Oddune! may'st thou, may I, and all we love,
‘That greatest of all interests keep in sight!’
‘Heaven grant it!’ Oddune cried.
‘All else is chaff!’
He moves not. Other words seemed gathering fast—
By hesitation checked. The King beholds
Confusion in the Chieftain's countenance,
When, smiling, he inquires,—‘What hast thou more,
‘Good Oddune, at this hour to claim our thoughts?—
‘I wait to hear thee.’—Thus the Warrior spake.
By hesitation checked. The King beholds
Confusion in the Chieftain's countenance,
When, smiling, he inquires,—‘What hast thou more,
‘Good Oddune, at this hour to claim our thoughts?—
‘I wait to hear thee.’—Thus the Warrior spake.
‘Will it intrusion prove, most noble King,
‘If I recount to thee one other lay
‘Of young Montalto.—'Tis a record dread,
‘Yet teeming with instruction,—of a youth,
‘With cheering prospects, blasted in one hour—
‘When wine had madden'd him. Now, wretch he is,
‘And wildly calls on her whom he has slain,—
‘Forgetful of the deed so horrible!
‘From whose example, the intemperate crew
‘Wisdom might learn, and shun, more earnestly
‘Th' intoxicating bowl, than scorpions dire,
‘And deadliest poisons. If my prayer thou grant,
‘In condescension, speak, I pray my lord.’
‘If I recount to thee one other lay
‘Of young Montalto.—'Tis a record dread,
‘Yet teeming with instruction,—of a youth,
‘With cheering prospects, blasted in one hour—
‘When wine had madden'd him. Now, wretch he is,
‘And wildly calls on her whom he has slain,—
‘Forgetful of the deed so horrible!
‘From whose example, the intemperate crew
‘Wisdom might learn, and shun, more earnestly
‘Th' intoxicating bowl, than scorpions dire,
182
‘In condescension, speak, I pray my lord.’
Half loath, yet courteous, thus the King replies.
‘This once I hear thee, but, the interdict,
‘Pass I on all beside. I wait thy speech,’
‘This once I hear thee, but, the interdict,
‘Pass I on all beside. I wait thy speech,’
Oddune, obeisant, thus.—‘The youth was named,—
‘Proud Ailward.’ Near the castle where I dwell
Was his abode, and at this very hour
He stands a monument, where all may read
How terrible is passion, which resents
Remonstrance, tho' expressed in gentlest guise.
Montalto found him, wandering, wild, and wan,
And, pitying, strove to cheer him; pointed out
The sinner's refuge;—reason'd valiantly
Against despair, but his solicitudes
Proved fruitless. Reason from her base was hurl'd!
To chronicle so sad a spectacle,
Our rustic bard, Montalto, pour'd the strain.
‘Proud Ailward.’ Near the castle where I dwell
Was his abode, and at this very hour
He stands a monument, where all may read
How terrible is passion, which resents
Remonstrance, tho' expressed in gentlest guise.
Montalto found him, wandering, wild, and wan,
And, pitying, strove to cheer him; pointed out
The sinner's refuge;—reason'd valiantly
Against despair, but his solicitudes
Proved fruitless. Reason from her base was hurl'd!
To chronicle so sad a spectacle,
Our rustic bard, Montalto, pour'd the strain.
What youth is that, who on the tomb
Kneels, poring, in you lonely place?—
His hands outspread, and with a gloom,
Stamp'd, like a seal, upon his face?
Kneels, poring, in you lonely place?—
His hands outspread, and with a gloom,
Stamp'd, like a seal, upon his face?
He nothing heeds the passer by,
Bent o'er the cold sepulchral stone:
The deep-sunk, listless, wandering eye
Declares an anguish, all his own
Bent o'er the cold sepulchral stone:
The deep-sunk, listless, wandering eye
Declares an anguish, all his own
He shrinks not from the wintry snow,—
Unconscious he, in sorrow drown'd:
The rains descend! the tempests blow!
He hears not, heeds not, sight or sound.
Unconscious he, in sorrow drown'd:
The rains descend! the tempests blow!
He hears not, heeds not, sight or sound.
Whence are those wailing griefs forlorn?—
Which all may hear, tho' none may share?
‘O, misery that I was born,
‘And made this crushing load to bear!
Which all may hear, tho' none may share?
‘O, misery that I was born,
‘And made this crushing load to bear!
183
‘My mother! when shall Ailward hear
‘Those tender tones that once were thine?
‘Where art thou gone? my mother dear!—
‘Ah!—never more must joy be mine!
‘Those tender tones that once were thine?
‘Where art thou gone? my mother dear!—
‘Ah!—never more must joy be mine!
‘An unquench'd fire consumes my breath!
‘My crimes uprise in dread array!
‘The night to me is lingering death,
‘While torturing Demons on me prey!’
‘My crimes uprise in dread array!
‘The night to me is lingering death,
‘While torturing Demons on me prey!’
The quivering heart, the trembling knee—
Proclaim the waves that o'er him roll!
What can this deed of darkness be,
Which drinks the spirit, racks the soul!
Proclaim the waves that o'er him roll!
What can this deed of darkness be,
Which drinks the spirit, racks the soul!
Oh! it is deep, which we would fain
Blot out!—as memory's darkest day!
Oh! it is branded with a stain—
Which Oceans might not wash away!—
Blot out!—as memory's darkest day!
Oh! it is branded with a stain—
Which Oceans might not wash away!—
Fill'd with th' inebriate draught, the child
Unshrinking, acts th' assassin's part!
He grasp'd the blade, in fury wild,
And plung'd it to a mother's heart!
Unshrinking, acts th' assassin's part!
He grasp'd the blade, in fury wild,
And plung'd it to a mother's heart!
Excess no longer steels his breast!
His eye is dim! his cheek is pale!
Reflection comes with horrors drest,
And o'er his spirit casts the veil!
His eye is dim! his cheek is pale!
Reflection comes with horrors drest,
And o'er his spirit casts the veil!
He roams a Maniac! See him there!
No peace is his, in sun or shade!
He wrings his hands, and in despair
Weeps o'er the grave himself has made!
No peace is his, in sun or shade!
He wrings his hands, and in despair
Weeps o'er the grave himself has made!
‘A touching tale!’ cried Alfred, ‘and the more,
‘That truth is with it.’—Plaintive, thus the king,—
(The tear descending)—‘What unnumbered hosts
‘Of crimes and outrage on intemperance wait!
‘War slays his thousands, but a vaster crowd
‘Wine immolates!—men loving life,—who yet—
‘Speed with avidity the road to death!
‘Now, Oddune, fare thee well.’
The chieftain heard
‘That truth is with it.’—Plaintive, thus the king,—
(The tear descending)—‘What unnumbered hosts
‘Of crimes and outrage on intemperance wait!
‘War slays his thousands, but a vaster crowd
‘Wine immolates!—men loving life,—who yet—
‘Speed with avidity the road to death!
‘Now, Oddune, fare thee well.’
The chieftain heard
And bending left the presence of the King.
| Alfred | |