 | Alfred |  |
‘And hast thou never heard,’ the king replied,
‘Of this thy son?’ ‘No, answer'd the old man,
‘Had he been living, we should long ere this
‘Have seen his face, for he was kind at heart,
‘All that a sire could wish; so good was he,
‘If heaven had prosper'd him with this world's wealth,
‘No likelier man had rear'd monastic pile,
‘With heart munificent. Oh! I may say
‘For many a month I ne'er retired to rest
‘But in my dreams I saw him; yet that time
‘Now is gone by, and I am pleas'd to think,
‘Tho' dead, he perish'd fighting for his king.
‘Forgive these tears!’ Alfred replied, ‘old man!
‘Thou had'st not well deserved so good a son,
‘If thou could'st think, unmov'd, upon his death.’
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‘Had he been living, we should long ere this
‘Have seen his face, for he was kind at heart,
‘All that a sire could wish; so good was he,
‘If heaven had prosper'd him with this world's wealth,
‘No likelier man had rear'd monastic pile,
‘With heart munificent. Oh! I may say
‘For many a month I ne'er retired to rest
‘But in my dreams I saw him; yet that time
‘Now is gone by, and I am pleas'd to think,
‘Tho' dead, he perish'd fighting for his king.
‘Forgive these tears!’ Alfred replied, ‘old man!
‘Thou had'st not well deserved so good a son,
‘If thou could'st think, unmov'd, upon his death.’
‘He was a hopeful son,’ the woodman cried;
‘Duteous and kind, from early youth the same,—
‘Like the fair apple-tree, when spring draws near,
‘His buds were blossoms. Few of woman born
‘Have left this earth, better prepared to pass
‘Death's scrutiny.’
‘Duteous and kind, from early youth the same,—
‘Like the fair apple-tree, when spring draws near,
‘His buds were blossoms. Few of woman born
‘Have left this earth, better prepared to pass
‘Death's scrutiny.’
‘He was a noble son!’
The king replied, ‘aye, master, he was good,’
The woodman said. ‘But I shall see him yet!
‘There is a better world. Altho' alone,
‘And far from human-kind, we love to think
‘Upon that last and best inheritance.
‘Not boastful, know, O, stranger! I am rich;
‘Endued with affluence of the highest kind.
‘I have some portions, written full and clear,
‘Of God's Good Word—in mine own proper tongue,
‘Brought from the distant speech, by our good king,—
‘So learned, and so brave!—Heaven prosper him!
‘These pages are my joy!—At close of day,
‘At morn, and with the sun high over head:
‘I ponder on the prospects it unfolds;
‘For there I learn of an eternal state!
‘And of a Saviour!—happy they, thrice told,
‘Who boast the whole of what I own a part.
‘Bless'd with the prospect of that heritage,
‘So certain and so near! each night and morn
‘We laud our Maker; feeling in our hearts
‘The fervent gratitude; for here our eyes
‘Beheld earth's changes: night preceding morn,
‘And morn the night, in long succession; spring,
‘And all the seasons, in an endless course,
‘Moving around us, bidding us arise
‘And praise the Highest, who from nothing call'd
‘This wondrous frame! And pleasant is the thought
‘Of many a word once heard in that fair church,
‘Built by our Alfred, whom all hearts adore;
‘And where my mind was raised to those good things,
‘An Advocate!—a world of blessedness!
‘When to be heard again! Ah, tell me when!’
The king replied, ‘aye, master, he was good,’
The woodman said. ‘But I shall see him yet!
‘There is a better world. Altho' alone,
‘And far from human-kind, we love to think
‘Upon that last and best inheritance.
‘Not boastful, know, O, stranger! I am rich;
‘Endued with affluence of the highest kind.
‘I have some portions, written full and clear,
‘Of God's Good Word—in mine own proper tongue,
‘Brought from the distant speech, by our good king,—
‘So learned, and so brave!—Heaven prosper him!
‘These pages are my joy!—At close of day,
‘At morn, and with the sun high over head:
‘I ponder on the prospects it unfolds;
‘For there I learn of an eternal state!
209
‘Who boast the whole of what I own a part.
‘Bless'd with the prospect of that heritage,
‘So certain and so near! each night and morn
‘We laud our Maker; feeling in our hearts
‘The fervent gratitude; for here our eyes
‘Beheld earth's changes: night preceding morn,
‘And morn the night, in long succession; spring,
‘And all the seasons, in an endless course,
‘Moving around us, bidding us arise
‘And praise the Highest, who from nothing call'd
‘This wondrous frame! And pleasant is the thought
‘Of many a word once heard in that fair church,
‘Built by our Alfred, whom all hearts adore;
‘And where my mind was raised to those good things,
‘An Advocate!—a world of blessedness!
‘When to be heard again! Ah, tell me when!’
| Alfred | |