Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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 | Alfred |  |
Impatient of the morn, before the dawn—
Gave her first kindling blush, the king arose,
When wondering he beheld his gallant troops—
E'en then, the dews of night upon their helm,
Marshall'd in fair array. ‘At such a time,
‘I would not be the latest,’ he exclaim'd:
‘I bid you hail!’—He further strove to speak,
But, 'mid the shouts, no more his voice was heard
Than is the pine's upon the mountain top,
When with the blast it swings, to some remote,
And gazing traveller. The tumult ceased:
When thus the king.
Gave her first kindling blush, the king arose,
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E'en then, the dews of night upon their helm,
Marshall'd in fair array. ‘At such a time,
‘I would not be the latest,’ he exclaim'd:
‘I bid you hail!’—He further strove to speak,
But, 'mid the shouts, no more his voice was heard
Than is the pine's upon the mountain top,
When with the blast it swings, to some remote,
And gazing traveller. The tumult ceased:
When thus the king.
| Alfred | |