Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
‘Your's is true wisdom,’ cried the king, ‘which first
‘Descended from above, and still directs
‘Our hopes, our better prospects to the skies.
‘This knowledge will remain, whilst all beside
‘The whirlwind, death, like chaff, shall bear away.
‘I honor thee, old man! Soon do I trust,
‘That that good church, and many kindred piles,
‘Will bless this land, where, others, like thyself,
‘May hear of a Redeemer, the one hope
‘To cheer benighted man. But father, say!
‘How cam'st thou in this place? These words of thine
‘Speak not a woodman's mind.’
‘Descended from above, and still directs
‘Our hopes, our better prospects to the skies.
‘This knowledge will remain, whilst all beside
‘The whirlwind, death, like chaff, shall bear away.
‘I honor thee, old man! Soon do I trust,
‘That that good church, and many kindred piles,
‘Will bless this land, where, others, like thyself,
‘May hear of a Redeemer, the one hope
‘To cheer benighted man. But father, say!
‘How cam'st thou in this place? These words of thine
‘Speak not a woodman's mind.’
| Alfred | |