Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
Cried Alfred, ‘Mother stay! we do indeed
‘Regard thy husband's story. Speak thou on!
‘We like the simple language of the heart.’
The woodman answer'd. ‘Well if I may speak,
‘They struck my fancy, and from that good hour,
‘Down e'en to this, I often think of them,
‘For I have found the words so true, that now,
‘Were my son living, I should say the same
‘When death approach'd.’—‘Dost thou a son deplore?’
The king thus answer made. ‘What caus'd his death?’
The old man wiped his eye and said, ‘I thought
‘Never again the story to have told;
‘But as I like thy countenance, and seem
‘Free in discourse, why thou shalt have the tale.
(When from her seat the aged woman rose
And pass'd the door.)
‘Regard thy husband's story. Speak thou on!
‘We like the simple language of the heart.’
The woodman answer'd. ‘Well if I may speak,
‘They struck my fancy, and from that good hour,
‘Down e'en to this, I often think of them,
‘For I have found the words so true, that now,
‘Were my son living, I should say the same
‘When death approach'd.’—‘Dost thou a son deplore?’
The king thus answer made. ‘What caus'd his death?’
The old man wiped his eye and said, ‘I thought
‘Never again the story to have told;
‘But as I like thy countenance, and seem
‘Free in discourse, why thou shalt have the tale.
(When from her seat the aged woman rose
And pass'd the door.)
| Alfred | |