Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
‘The good man's voice grew faint,
‘And now with harder labourings, distant far,
‘One from the other, he essay'd to breathe,
‘But, difficult, when back he stretch'd himself,
‘And calmly died.—So hither, cried my son,
‘I haste to tell my purpose! Thou art old!
(Looking at me, who speechless stood) he said,
‘And well may'st plead excuse from martial toil;
‘But if my arm should fail at such an hour,
‘To wield the sword, and in my country's cause,
‘Fight manfully; if I should shun my king,
‘And in this forest live inglorious
‘When ruin and the enemy stalk round—
‘I should not well deserve to be thy son.’
‘I need not tell you, strangers! what my thoughts
‘At this recital, and if long I paused
‘Whether to bid my brave son go or stay.
‘That night he left us! These were his last words.
‘I go, my honour'd parents! to discharge
‘Duty's high call, but once again, I trust
‘To see your faces glad, and round our board
‘Talk of past perils.’ ‘Then he left our home!’
‘And now with harder labourings, distant far,
‘One from the other, he essay'd to breathe,
‘But, difficult, when back he stretch'd himself,
‘And calmly died.—So hither, cried my son,
‘I haste to tell my purpose! Thou art old!
(Looking at me, who speechless stood) he said,
‘And well may'st plead excuse from martial toil;
‘But if my arm should fail at such an hour,
‘To wield the sword, and in my country's cause,
‘Fight manfully; if I should shun my king,
‘And in this forest live inglorious
‘When ruin and the enemy stalk round—
‘I should not well deserve to be thy son.’
‘I need not tell you, strangers! what my thoughts
‘At this recital, and if long I paused
‘Whether to bid my brave son go or stay.
‘That night he left us! These were his last words.
‘I go, my honour'd parents! to discharge
‘Duty's high call, but once again, I trust
‘To see your faces glad, and round our board
‘Talk of past perils.’ ‘Then he left our home!’
| Alfred | |