Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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| XXI. |
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| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
‘I will not bid my subjects bleed,’ he cried,
‘But of necessity. Oddune, approach!’
The chief drew near. Him Alfred thus address'd.
‘To me it seems expedient to dismiss
‘Some messenger, of bold and manly port,
‘To yonder Danes, bidding them leave this land.’
Oddune replied, ‘Let me that herald be!’
‘Go’ said the king, ‘thus to the Danes declare:
‘Ye wasting men, to Denmark's savage shore,
‘Swift as the eagle, flee, or by our swords
‘Soon shall ye fall, all fall! Say, wherefore come
‘To scourge our land, to waste this happy isle,
‘To wrong this people? whom your swords may slay,
‘But ne'er shall conquer—while yon sun remains,
‘Or earth endures. Alfred, our king, hath sent
‘Me to forewarn you. Instant on the ground
‘Cast ye your arms, and swear by all the gods
‘You worship, forth to leave this land, nor more
‘Track it with blood,—so Alfred will provide
‘Fit vessels, to convey you to your homes,—
‘Your wives, your children, (whom our king has spared
‘On yonder southern shore.)—Say, I am one
‘Who loves not strife, who never smote a foe
‘But with regret, pungent and keen, and now
‘Seek their departure, rather than their lives:
‘But if they scorn thee, tell them by the hand
‘That wields the thunder, by the power that stills
‘Old ocean when he raveth, I will meet
‘Ivar and Hubba on yon plain beneath,
‘And they shall learn the lesson, learnt but once!
‘What Saxons can perform, when, in their might,
‘Aroused to vengeance.’—Oddune thus replied,
‘Monarch, I thank thee! Trust my warmest zeal.
‘I speed to bear the summons to the Danes.’
‘But of necessity. Oddune, approach!’
The chief drew near. Him Alfred thus address'd.
‘To me it seems expedient to dismiss
‘Some messenger, of bold and manly port,
‘To yonder Danes, bidding them leave this land.’
Oddune replied, ‘Let me that herald be!’
‘Go’ said the king, ‘thus to the Danes declare:
‘Ye wasting men, to Denmark's savage shore,
‘Swift as the eagle, flee, or by our swords
‘Soon shall ye fall, all fall! Say, wherefore come
‘To scourge our land, to waste this happy isle,
‘To wrong this people? whom your swords may slay,
‘But ne'er shall conquer—while yon sun remains,
‘Or earth endures. Alfred, our king, hath sent
‘Me to forewarn you. Instant on the ground
‘Cast ye your arms, and swear by all the gods
‘You worship, forth to leave this land, nor more
‘Track it with blood,—so Alfred will provide
‘Fit vessels, to convey you to your homes,—
‘Your wives, your children, (whom our king has spared
‘On yonder southern shore.)—Say, I am one
‘Who loves not strife, who never smote a foe
‘But with regret, pungent and keen, and now
‘Seek their departure, rather than their lives:
‘But if they scorn thee, tell them by the hand
‘That wields the thunder, by the power that stills
‘Old ocean when he raveth, I will meet
‘Ivar and Hubba on yon plain beneath,
‘And they shall learn the lesson, learnt but once!
‘What Saxons can perform, when, in their might,
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‘Monarch, I thank thee! Trust my warmest zeal.
‘I speed to bear the summons to the Danes.’
| Alfred | |