Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. | BOOK X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
145
BOOK X.
ARGUMENT.
ALFRED'S interview with a Witch.—The burning of the Danish Fleet.
Before the morn arrived, Sigbert uprose,
With thought distracted. Thro' night's silent hours
Sleepless he lay, revolving o'er and o'er
On Alfred's words and gestures; with their barbs
Piercing his heart. Each sentence which he spake,
Impress'd his mind with such strong characters
That oft he half forgot them, and the cares,
Of late so terrible, seem'd in oblivion lost:
Then, like some tide or ocean long embank'd
That bursts its barriers—fierce—impetuous,
Casting its world of waters o'er the land,
In Sigbert's feverish mind, the monarch's voice
Resistless enter'd, scorning the weak bound
Of human will.
With thought distracted. Thro' night's silent hours
Sleepless he lay, revolving o'er and o'er
On Alfred's words and gestures; with their barbs
Piercing his heart. Each sentence which he spake,
Impress'd his mind with such strong characters
That oft he half forgot them, and the cares,
Of late so terrible, seem'd in oblivion lost:
Then, like some tide or ocean long embank'd
That bursts its barriers—fierce—impetuous,
Casting its world of waters o'er the land,
In Sigbert's feverish mind, the monarch's voice
Resistless enter'd, scorning the weak bound
Of human will.
Now Alfred's words seem'd harsh,
And with resentment Sigbert view'd them o'er,
Till something gently whisper'd in his ear
Of the forbearing spirit, and kind heart
Which Christian priest became. He thought again
On what his mind once was, the seat of peace
Of lowliness, that could at eve and morn,
Respect that precept, ‘Love thine enemies,’
And say, with fervent utt'rance, ‘If there be
‘Those who despite me, pardon them, Oh Lord!’
But in his heart he felt that time was gone.
Whilst musing thus, the sudden thought arose
Of many a friend gone down to death, like fruit
Untimely cast to earth. He felt a glow
Pervade his cheek, and as he upward look'd,
And cried, ‘Oh grant me, righteous Heaven, thy fires,
‘That I may blast these Danes!’ Turning, he saw
Alfred, beholding! Sigbert's mind then felt
As tho' some spirit watch'd him from the sky,—
With awful majesty. Or like the man,
Sleeping on earth, who, when the night draws near,
Sudden awakes, and sees the full-orbed moon
Upon his face, gazing in quietness.
And with resentment Sigbert view'd them o'er,
Till something gently whisper'd in his ear
Of the forbearing spirit, and kind heart
Which Christian priest became. He thought again
On what his mind once was, the seat of peace
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Respect that precept, ‘Love thine enemies,’
And say, with fervent utt'rance, ‘If there be
‘Those who despite me, pardon them, Oh Lord!’
But in his heart he felt that time was gone.
Whilst musing thus, the sudden thought arose
Of many a friend gone down to death, like fruit
Untimely cast to earth. He felt a glow
Pervade his cheek, and as he upward look'd,
And cried, ‘Oh grant me, righteous Heaven, thy fires,
‘That I may blast these Danes!’ Turning, he saw
Alfred, beholding! Sigbert's mind then felt
As tho' some spirit watch'd him from the sky,—
With awful majesty. Or like the man,
Sleeping on earth, who, when the night draws near,
Sudden awakes, and sees the full-orbed moon
Upon his face, gazing in quietness.
Alfred, the mild rebuke thus tender'd him.
‘Sigbert, thy head is wrong, thy heart is right.
‘Thou'rt like the snow, fast falling to the earth,
‘Darken'd, when upward view'd, but light below.
‘With thoughts uneasy, sleep deriding us,
‘We two, the earliest, hail the ruddy dawn.
‘Haste, rouse the troops! We now must buckle on
‘Once more our armour, seize again the sword,
‘Direct the hostile weapon, and implore
‘Heaven's blessing on th' exploit that lies before.’—
Like the gay lark, which on an April morn
Forsakes his nest, while yet the sun is hid,
And nature dim and silent, as his note
Awakes the feather'd tribes, and makes the air
Ring with their warblings, so at Alfred's voice,
Out from their tents, impatient, pour'd his troops,
In exultation, and wild vehemence,
Greeting their monarch. Thus he welcomed them.
‘Sigbert, thy head is wrong, thy heart is right.
‘Thou'rt like the snow, fast falling to the earth,
‘Darken'd, when upward view'd, but light below.
‘With thoughts uneasy, sleep deriding us,
‘We two, the earliest, hail the ruddy dawn.
‘Haste, rouse the troops! We now must buckle on
‘Once more our armour, seize again the sword,
‘Direct the hostile weapon, and implore
‘Heaven's blessing on th' exploit that lies before.’—
Like the gay lark, which on an April morn
Forsakes his nest, while yet the sun is hid,
And nature dim and silent, as his note
Awakes the feather'd tribes, and makes the air
Ring with their warblings, so at Alfred's voice,
Out from their tents, impatient, pour'd his troops,
In exultation, and wild vehemence,
Greeting their monarch. Thus he welcomed them.
147
‘Subjects, I joy to see you! When the light
‘First streaks the east, we know that morn is nigh,
‘And now your hearts are roused, I see, at hand,
‘The first faint dawn of our prosperity.
‘To burn the Danish fleet is our design,
‘Not to provoke the fight. Five hundred men
‘Now do I take. The rest, till we return,
‘Prepare the means of war.’—Th' appointment made;
Alfred inquires, ‘If all to waste the foe
Felt their hearts ready?’ Each his sword uprais'd,
And clash'd his shield. When Alfred cried, ‘Oh God!
‘Thou art our confidence;’ and onward march'd.
‘First streaks the east, we know that morn is nigh,
‘And now your hearts are roused, I see, at hand,
‘The first faint dawn of our prosperity.
‘To burn the Danish fleet is our design,
‘Not to provoke the fight. Five hundred men
‘Now do I take. The rest, till we return,
‘Prepare the means of war.’—Th' appointment made;
Alfred inquires, ‘If all to waste the foe
Felt their hearts ready?’ Each his sword uprais'd,
And clash'd his shield. When Alfred cried, ‘Oh God!
‘Thou art our confidence;’ and onward march'd.
Thoughts of approaching scenes now o'er their brow
Cast the stern look. Silent they moved along,
Save that the steady tread of multitudes,
Heard ever, sounded like the gushing noise
Made by some bark upon the ocean wide,
In calm and quiet weather, when the air
Gives but one sound—the parting of the waves.—
Long time they march'd, and pleasant was the sight,
When passing through the towns and villages,
Shadows of what they were, now fall'n, or burnt,
To see the aged by the road-way side,
Creep from their sack'd and shattered tenements,
(The local fondness lingering at their heart)
The cripple and the fatherless, the maim'd,
The mother, and her children, stand to bless,
As to the wars they pass'd, their noble king
And his brave followers. Entering now a wood,
With toil o'ercome, beneath the spreading trees,
The sun unclouded, they awhile recline,
The better to recruit their strength, and nerve,
Their spirits for fresh labour.
Cast the stern look. Silent they moved along,
Save that the steady tread of multitudes,
Heard ever, sounded like the gushing noise
Made by some bark upon the ocean wide,
In calm and quiet weather, when the air
Gives but one sound—the parting of the waves.—
Long time they march'd, and pleasant was the sight,
When passing through the towns and villages,
Shadows of what they were, now fall'n, or burnt,
To see the aged by the road-way side,
Creep from their sack'd and shattered tenements,
(The local fondness lingering at their heart)
The cripple and the fatherless, the maim'd,
The mother, and her children, stand to bless,
As to the wars they pass'd, their noble king
And his brave followers. Entering now a wood,
With toil o'ercome, beneath the spreading trees,
The sun unclouded, they awhile recline,
The better to recruit their strength, and nerve,
Their spirits for fresh labour.
Whilst they lay
Stretch'd in their sylvan bower, with solemn look,
Portentous of revealment tragical,
Sigbert drew near, and Alfred thus addressed.
‘Most gracious king, there is a witch at hand!
‘Believe thy servant. Wand'ring thro' this wood,
‘Late in a musing hour, with fears aroused,
‘I saw her in her moss-clad hut, alone,
‘Her imp beside her, of the feline form—
‘Two centuries old, or more. Most noble king!
‘Shall I conduct thee to her secret haunt?’
Stretch'd in their sylvan bower, with solemn look,
148
Sigbert drew near, and Alfred thus addressed.
‘Most gracious king, there is a witch at hand!
‘Believe thy servant. Wand'ring thro' this wood,
‘Late in a musing hour, with fears aroused,
‘I saw her in her moss-clad hut, alone,
‘Her imp beside her, of the feline form—
‘Two centuries old, or more. Most noble king!
‘Shall I conduct thee to her secret haunt?’
Alfred replied, ‘Sigbert, tho' strange it seem,
Truth lies beneath—Thou hast much lore to learn,
‘And much to unlearn, ere thou wilt be wise.
‘Thine are the idle, weak and wandering dreams,
‘Which, hearing, we might smile at, not deride,
‘But for their baneful influence on man's heart.’
Truth lies beneath—Thou hast much lore to learn,
‘And much to unlearn, ere thou wilt be wise.
‘Thine are the idle, weak and wandering dreams,
‘Which, hearing, we might smile at, not deride,
‘But for their baneful influence on man's heart.’
‘Most noble king,’ Sigbert astonish'd cried,
‘As from my inmost spirit I believe,
‘No one endued with proper faculties
‘Could look upon her brown and haggard form
‘And doubt one moment, that she is, full true,
‘A witch malign.’—Alfred thus answer made.
‘She may be old and feeble, and strange tales
‘Folly may of her tell, but wisdom spurns
‘These idle fancies. Mark me, whilst our bands
‘Refresh their weary limbs, I would an hour
‘Steal from anxiety, to see and hear
‘This form terrific! Speed thou on thy way.’
Alfred and Sigbert seek the witch at hand.
‘As from my inmost spirit I believe,
‘No one endued with proper faculties
‘Could look upon her brown and haggard form
‘And doubt one moment, that she is, full true,
‘A witch malign.’—Alfred thus answer made.
‘She may be old and feeble, and strange tales
‘Folly may of her tell, but wisdom spurns
‘These idle fancies. Mark me, whilst our bands
‘Refresh their weary limbs, I would an hour
‘Steal from anxiety, to see and hear
‘This form terrific! Speed thou on thy way.’
Alfred and Sigbert seek the witch at hand.
Upon the borders of the forest deep,
Her dwelling stood, of turf and osiers made;
The roof o'ergrown with ivy, weeds, and moss,
Confused and wild, uncurb'd from year to year,
Half green, half grey;—scarce human dwelling-place.
They glimpse the form of import terrible!
There by her crazy door, on three-legged stool,
The beldame sat—courting the breeze, that play'd
Amid her few white tresses; silence round—
Save where the throstle gave his sprightly song.
Against her rugged staff, with back upraised,
Her one companion, sabler than the night,
Came purring, forward now, now back again,
Pressing alternate sides,—with happiness,—
Felt, and by touch of sympathy convey'd.
‘Behold her!’ Sigbert said, ‘There sits the hag!—
‘Fearful, of might unknown, weaving her spells
‘And leagued with powers infernal. Take thou care
‘Not to arouse her ire, for she hath means,
‘And habitudes—of a mysterious kind,
‘And with a look—can, to decrepitude,
‘Wither the stoutest frame.’
Her dwelling stood, of turf and osiers made;
The roof o'ergrown with ivy, weeds, and moss,
Confused and wild, uncurb'd from year to year,
Half green, half grey;—scarce human dwelling-place.
149
There by her crazy door, on three-legged stool,
The beldame sat—courting the breeze, that play'd
Amid her few white tresses; silence round—
Save where the throstle gave his sprightly song.
Against her rugged staff, with back upraised,
Her one companion, sabler than the night,
Came purring, forward now, now back again,
Pressing alternate sides,—with happiness,—
Felt, and by touch of sympathy convey'd.
‘Behold her!’ Sigbert said, ‘There sits the hag!—
‘Fearful, of might unknown, weaving her spells
‘And leagued with powers infernal. Take thou care
‘Not to arouse her ire, for she hath means,
‘And habitudes—of a mysterious kind,
‘And with a look—can, to decrepitude,
‘Wither the stoutest frame.’
They reach the spot.
Touch'd for old age, so lone and comfortless,
When pity needing most, by most denied,
Alfred, with soothing voice, the dame address'd;
(She striving to rise up, from courtesy,
The king with gentle hand, slow press'd her down.)
Accosting thus the aged solitaire.
Touch'd for old age, so lone and comfortless,
When pity needing most, by most denied,
Alfred, with soothing voice, the dame address'd;
(She striving to rise up, from courtesy,
The king with gentle hand, slow press'd her down.)
Accosting thus the aged solitaire.
‘Nay, rise not, mother. Forms, I heed them not.—
‘For curious spirit, wilt thou pardon me?
‘Thou hast repute for necromantic arts,
‘And intercourse with things unlawful. Say!
‘What is this power of thine, in myst'ry veil'd,
‘Filling with dread obscure the country round?’
‘For curious spirit, wilt thou pardon me?
‘Thou hast repute for necromantic arts,
‘And intercourse with things unlawful. Say!
‘What is this power of thine, in myst'ry veil'd,
‘Filling with dread obscure the country round?’
The feeble wreck of generations past,
Thus answer'd. ‘Master, in thy look and voice,
‘There is a something that e'en whispers me,
‘Not all are hostile, and, if possible,
‘I should e'en think that I beheld a friend.
‘Trust me, no power is mine—injurious things
‘To heap on mortals, Would that all around
‘Display'd the honest frankness thou dost show,
‘That I might understand, and vindicate
‘This aged head from falsehoods; but, there are
‘Who deal their blows in darkness, and resolve
‘What shall be, not what is, their will the truth;—
‘What fancy dictates. Stranger, trust my words!
‘No arts are mine. Blessings I fain would shower,
‘Rather than curses—on my bitterest foes,
‘And I have many such.—Toward man or beast
‘No wish of harm hath harbour'd in this breast—
‘From youth to these grey hairs. My only crime—
‘Is this,—my sallow look,—my silvery lock,—
‘My tottering step, and this poor thing that purs,—
‘The sole companion that adheres to me,
‘And tells me, choicest cordial of my heart!
‘'Mid strangers all, one friend is faithful still!’
Thus answer'd. ‘Master, in thy look and voice,
‘There is a something that e'en whispers me,
‘Not all are hostile, and, if possible,
150
‘Trust me, no power is mine—injurious things
‘To heap on mortals, Would that all around
‘Display'd the honest frankness thou dost show,
‘That I might understand, and vindicate
‘This aged head from falsehoods; but, there are
‘Who deal their blows in darkness, and resolve
‘What shall be, not what is, their will the truth;—
‘What fancy dictates. Stranger, trust my words!
‘No arts are mine. Blessings I fain would shower,
‘Rather than curses—on my bitterest foes,
‘And I have many such.—Toward man or beast
‘No wish of harm hath harbour'd in this breast—
‘From youth to these grey hairs. My only crime—
‘Is this,—my sallow look,—my silvery lock,—
‘My tottering step, and this poor thing that purs,—
‘The sole companion that adheres to me,
‘And tells me, choicest cordial of my heart!
‘'Mid strangers all, one friend is faithful still!’
Adown her furrow'd cheek—the slow tear steals!
When Alfred, turning, thus to Sigbert spake.
‘What say'st thou to this dweller in the woods?
‘Thou answerest not! Confusion in thy face
‘Sits manifest. Learn wisdom, and behold—
‘In superstition—that disastrous foe
‘Which quenches pity, and the genial stream
‘That cheers, and warms, and fructifies the heart
‘Turns into deadliest poison!’
When Alfred, turning, thus to Sigbert spake.
‘What say'st thou to this dweller in the woods?
‘Thou answerest not! Confusion in thy face
‘Sits manifest. Learn wisdom, and behold—
‘In superstition—that disastrous foe
‘Which quenches pity, and the genial stream
‘That cheers, and warms, and fructifies the heart
‘Turns into deadliest poison!’
Now in tones—
Of kindliest sympathy, the monarch spake.
‘Mother! thy lot is hard. Age brings its weight,
‘But calumny is weightier far than all.
‘One antidote there is, the consciousness
‘Of charges undeserved, and an appeal—
‘To him whose judgment errs not.—Thro' this life
‘Of strange vicissitudes, thy years have borne
‘Doubtless, a liberal share; while distant friends
‘Suspend their toil—under the green-wood tree,
‘Declare thy sorrows, one will pity thee.’
Feebly and slow, the lonely woman spake.
Of kindliest sympathy, the monarch spake.
‘Mother! thy lot is hard. Age brings its weight,
‘But calumny is weightier far than all.
‘One antidote there is, the consciousness
‘Of charges undeserved, and an appeal—
‘To him whose judgment errs not.—Thro' this life
151
‘Doubtless, a liberal share; while distant friends
‘Suspend their toil—under the green-wood tree,
‘Declare thy sorrows, one will pity thee.’
Feebly and slow, the lonely woman spake.
‘My lot is hard indeed, for I am doomed—
‘Still to live on, when all my friends are dead;
‘Husband and neighbours. I had once three sons,
‘Fighting in Alfred's wars.—God bless our king!
‘But they are dead, the Danes, our country's bane,
‘Dread scourge! have slain them! and I too shall fall,
‘With all around, if Alfred conquer not.
‘I know how little life has left for me,
‘And daily feel some monitor of death,
‘Yet as my years increase, a growing love
‘Of life increases, for my humble cot
‘Still has its charms for me. Altho' my limbs
‘Tremble at every breath, and I survive—
‘A friendless woman, tottering o'er the grave,
‘The melancholy mother of the dead,
‘Oh! blame me not, but pity, if thou canst!
‘My coward heart still clings to its loved home.
‘A wretched thing it is for age like mine
‘To lose its recollection, and at eve
‘To know my sons are slain, and yet at morn
‘To cherish expectations, and look round,
‘Eager, to see them ope' my cottage door,
‘'Till memory comes. But tho' I know them gone,
‘Fondly I hope 'gainst hope. Delusion vain!
‘I never more shall see them!—They are dead!—
‘The feelings these of nature; in reserve,
‘I have a hope, to alien hearts unknown.’
After a pause, the woman thus again.
‘Still to live on, when all my friends are dead;
‘Husband and neighbours. I had once three sons,
‘Fighting in Alfred's wars.—God bless our king!
‘But they are dead, the Danes, our country's bane,
‘Dread scourge! have slain them! and I too shall fall,
‘With all around, if Alfred conquer not.
‘I know how little life has left for me,
‘And daily feel some monitor of death,
‘Yet as my years increase, a growing love
‘Of life increases, for my humble cot
‘Still has its charms for me. Altho' my limbs
‘Tremble at every breath, and I survive—
‘A friendless woman, tottering o'er the grave,
‘The melancholy mother of the dead,
‘Oh! blame me not, but pity, if thou canst!
‘My coward heart still clings to its loved home.
‘A wretched thing it is for age like mine
‘To lose its recollection, and at eve
‘To know my sons are slain, and yet at morn
‘To cherish expectations, and look round,
‘Eager, to see them ope' my cottage door,
‘'Till memory comes. But tho' I know them gone,
‘Fondly I hope 'gainst hope. Delusion vain!
‘I never more shall see them!—They are dead!—
‘The feelings these of nature; in reserve,
‘I have a hope, to alien hearts unknown.’
After a pause, the woman thus again.
‘There is one evil, next in magnitude,
‘Adding new sorrows to a burden'd heart.
‘The hamlets round me, in their cruel spite
‘Harbour hard thoughts, and on me heap their scorn;
‘Eye me askance,—with fiends, as holding converse;
‘Regarding me—scarce of the human kind,—
‘As one, to whom all nature subject lies,
‘Roaming at will, thro' air, and calling up
‘Sickness, or murrain;—charging every ill
‘Befalling them or theirs—upon this head;—
‘On me!—who ne'er deprived in wantonness
‘An insect of the life its maker gave!’—
‘Weep not,’ cried Alfred; ‘soon thy cares will end.
‘There is a better hope!—a better world!
‘Be this thy consolation!’—Such a glance,
Casting a gleam of sunshine o'er her face—
She gave the king,—so manifest of joy
From unexpected source, that she appear'd
Old as she was, and hanging on life's verge,
E'en lovely!—showing that the soul retains
Its pristine rank, and that no outward form
Wrinkle, or hue;—the last extreme of age,
Can hold the spirit captive, in itself
Young ever,—smiling at the waster—Time.
152
‘The hamlets round me, in their cruel spite
‘Harbour hard thoughts, and on me heap their scorn;
‘Eye me askance,—with fiends, as holding converse;
‘Regarding me—scarce of the human kind,—
‘As one, to whom all nature subject lies,
‘Roaming at will, thro' air, and calling up
‘Sickness, or murrain;—charging every ill
‘Befalling them or theirs—upon this head;—
‘On me!—who ne'er deprived in wantonness
‘An insect of the life its maker gave!’—
‘Weep not,’ cried Alfred; ‘soon thy cares will end.
‘There is a better hope!—a better world!
‘Be this thy consolation!’—Such a glance,
Casting a gleam of sunshine o'er her face—
She gave the king,—so manifest of joy
From unexpected source, that she appear'd
Old as she was, and hanging on life's verge,
E'en lovely!—showing that the soul retains
Its pristine rank, and that no outward form
Wrinkle, or hue;—the last extreme of age,
Can hold the spirit captive, in itself
Young ever,—smiling at the waster—Time.
Amid an evil and tumultuous world
She in her cot had held communion sweet
With lofty contemplations,—with that state
The christian's resting-place, which o'er her brow
A look unearthly cast.—The passing word
Utter'd by Alfred, of congenial kind,
So unexpected, feelings woke within,
Repress'd before,—(as the meridian sun,
Expands the petal, calls the flowret forth.)
With gladden'd visage, mildly thus she spake.
‘My hope is in the Saviour of the world!—
‘Say, stranger! do I err?’
‘Thine is true wisdom. This the stable ground!
‘The rock of ages!—whereon he who stands,
‘Unmoved, shall see Decay, with whirlwind rage,
‘Sweep earth, and all its perishable chaff
‘Into oblivion!—whilst this hope remains,
‘Firm as Heaven's pillars and the throne of God!
‘Endure thy burden, worn, disconsolate,
‘The bridge is nearly pass'd! Hold on thy way!
‘Look upward! Treasures wait thee in the skies!—
‘Duties imperious call me hence. Farewell!’
Into her wither'd hand he drops the purse
And presses it;—and as she look'd to Heaven—
Alfred and Sigbert haste to other scenes.
She in her cot had held communion sweet
With lofty contemplations,—with that state
The christian's resting-place, which o'er her brow
A look unearthly cast.—The passing word
Utter'd by Alfred, of congenial kind,
So unexpected, feelings woke within,
Repress'd before,—(as the meridian sun,
Expands the petal, calls the flowret forth.)
With gladden'd visage, mildly thus she spake.
‘My hope is in the Saviour of the world!—
‘Say, stranger! do I err?’
153
‘The rock of ages!—whereon he who stands,
‘Unmoved, shall see Decay, with whirlwind rage,
‘Sweep earth, and all its perishable chaff
‘Into oblivion!—whilst this hope remains,
‘Firm as Heaven's pillars and the throne of God!
‘Endure thy burden, worn, disconsolate,
‘The bridge is nearly pass'd! Hold on thy way!
‘Look upward! Treasures wait thee in the skies!—
‘Duties imperious call me hence. Farewell!’
Into her wither'd hand he drops the purse
And presses it;—and as she look'd to Heaven—
Alfred and Sigbert haste to other scenes.
While roaming thro' the wood, a vista spreads
Sudden before them, and distinct they spy—
Upon a neighbouring hill, with earnest step—
Warriors! alike, their name and course unknown!
‘From weapon, and from dress,’ Alfred exclaim'd,
‘I judge them Danes. Yon tree I instant climb.’
Upon the topmost branch he now appears,
When hastening down he cried, ‘Those are the Danes!
‘Perchance the host, just landed on our coast;
‘Led on by Ivar, that disastrous chief,
‘His sword once more t'embrue in Saxon blood!
‘Now speed we back.’
Sudden before them, and distinct they spy—
Upon a neighbouring hill, with earnest step—
Warriors! alike, their name and course unknown!
‘From weapon, and from dress,’ Alfred exclaim'd,
‘I judge them Danes. Yon tree I instant climb.’
Upon the topmost branch he now appears,
When hastening down he cried, ‘Those are the Danes!
‘Perchance the host, just landed on our coast;
‘Led on by Ivar, that disastrous chief,
‘His sword once more t'embrue in Saxon blood!
‘Now speed we back.’
While hastening on their way,—
Alfred thus spake.—‘Sigbert, solemnity
‘Reigns at my heart. The danger dread was near!
‘We knew it not. But for the moving tale
‘Of that poor, wrong'd, and suffering woman old,
‘With this our slender band, we might have met
‘The check, at least, I will not say defeat,
‘Thro' force unequal;—thus doth Providence
‘Work out its secret purposes, and make
‘Small things subserve the great.’,
Alfred thus spake.—‘Sigbert, solemnity
‘Reigns at my heart. The danger dread was near!
‘We knew it not. But for the moving tale
‘Of that poor, wrong'd, and suffering woman old,
‘With this our slender band, we might have met
‘The check, at least, I will not say defeat,
‘Thro' force unequal;—thus doth Providence
‘Work out its secret purposes, and make
‘Small things subserve the great.’,
154
Sigbert replied;
‘It may be well. Soon shall these polar bears
‘Sustain our onset, and their countless bones
‘Strew our highways.’ When, with a serious look,
He thus began. ‘Monarch! believe my words!
‘That Hag, whom thou with misplaced tenderness,
‘Didst pity, is a Witch! I know her such!
‘And I could bring a goodly host to swear—
‘They've seen her on her broom ride royally!
‘I mark'd her scowling eye!—her subtle lear!
‘And I could read dark workings on her brow!
‘Trust me, at dead of night, she revel keeps,
‘Till the grey dawn appears, with wicked Sprites,
‘And there concocts device and malady—
‘Plague, pestilence, for all who rouse her wrath.
‘I pray, my king from this brief interview
‘May 'scape all harm! She is a hypocrite!
‘Her words are vain!’
‘It may be well. Soon shall these polar bears
‘Sustain our onset, and their countless bones
‘Strew our highways.’ When, with a serious look,
He thus began. ‘Monarch! believe my words!
‘That Hag, whom thou with misplaced tenderness,
‘Didst pity, is a Witch! I know her such!
‘And I could bring a goodly host to swear—
‘They've seen her on her broom ride royally!
‘I mark'd her scowling eye!—her subtle lear!
‘And I could read dark workings on her brow!
‘Trust me, at dead of night, she revel keeps,
‘Till the grey dawn appears, with wicked Sprites,
‘And there concocts device and malady—
‘Plague, pestilence, for all who rouse her wrath.
‘I pray, my king from this brief interview
‘May 'scape all harm! She is a hypocrite!
‘Her words are vain!’
Alfred his spirit stems,
Yet half indignant, thus the answer gave.—
‘The shores may limit ocean, but no power
‘Short of Omnipotence, can folly bind.
‘Sigbert, the time hastes on, nor distant is,
‘When if thy faith be other than that woman's,—
‘By thee traduced, and that most wrongfully!
‘Thou wilt be glad to yield thy place for hers.
‘Strange changes wait—the Mighty and the Mean!
‘Hereafter I may speak more pertinent:
‘Now speed we on.’
Yet half indignant, thus the answer gave.—
‘The shores may limit ocean, but no power
‘Short of Omnipotence, can folly bind.
‘Sigbert, the time hastes on, nor distant is,
‘When if thy faith be other than that woman's,—
‘By thee traduced, and that most wrongfully!
‘Thou wilt be glad to yield thy place for hers.
‘Strange changes wait—the Mighty and the Mean!
‘Hereafter I may speak more pertinent:
‘Now speed we on.’
The camp at length is reach'd,
When Alfred thus his anxious troops address'd.
‘After this brief suspension of your toil,
‘Chieftains, and men revered, prepare your ears
‘For tidings unexpected. From a wood,
‘I have beheld a Danish multitude,
‘Hasting to join their fellows.’—At his words
‘Silence intense prevail'd—when not a sound
‘Save of the leaves, that from the passing breeze
‘Quiver'd and stopp'd alternate, met the ear.
When thus again the king.—‘Let them combine,
‘Our present object is the Danish fleet,
‘Augmented now by Ivar's,—but, erelong,
‘Ordain'd to fill Heaven's concave with their glare.
‘Now for the southern coast!’
When Alfred thus his anxious troops address'd.
‘After this brief suspension of your toil,
‘Chieftains, and men revered, prepare your ears
‘For tidings unexpected. From a wood,
‘I have beheld a Danish multitude,
‘Hasting to join their fellows.’—At his words
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‘Save of the leaves, that from the passing breeze
‘Quiver'd and stopp'd alternate, met the ear.
When thus again the king.—‘Let them combine,
‘Our present object is the Danish fleet,
‘Augmented now by Ivar's,—but, erelong,
‘Ordain'd to fill Heaven's concave with their glare.
‘Now for the southern coast!’
With patient toil,
The Saxons, stout in their resolve and heart,
Press'd earnest on. Now, from a lofty hill,
The ocean green they spy, and on the strand,
Thick as autumnal leaves, the Danish fleet.
Alfred rejoicing cried, ‘That prize is ours!
‘Behold yon barks, that hither brought our foe—
‘To waste this isle, and we ourselves to whelm
‘In death or bondage. With yon ships they rove,
‘Plaguing all lands. Why hath not Britain fleets—
‘To meet, and to repel these robber Danes?
‘But more of this when peace shall bless our isle.
The Saxons, stout in their resolve and heart,
Press'd earnest on. Now, from a lofty hill,
The ocean green they spy, and on the strand,
Thick as autumnal leaves, the Danish fleet.
Alfred rejoicing cried, ‘That prize is ours!
‘Behold yon barks, that hither brought our foe—
‘To waste this isle, and we ourselves to whelm
‘In death or bondage. With yon ships they rove,
‘Plaguing all lands. Why hath not Britain fleets—
‘To meet, and to repel these robber Danes?
‘But more of this when peace shall bless our isle.
Whilst on the hill-top, thoughtful, Alfred gazed,
Sigbert he call'd, and thus the mandate gave.
‘Speed cautious to the beach. Look well around,
‘And mark what force protects the enemy.’
Sigbert the words received, and hasted on.—
Joy, beaming from his eye.—Back he returns,
And thus exulting cried. ‘Rejoice, O king!
‘There is no foe, no man to meet our swords,
‘But there are women, numberless; the wives
‘Of these our fierce invaders. Children too,
‘Countless are there, rising, with venom charged,
‘To aid their fathers.’
Sigbert he call'd, and thus the mandate gave.
‘Speed cautious to the beach. Look well around,
‘And mark what force protects the enemy.’
Sigbert the words received, and hasted on.—
Joy, beaming from his eye.—Back he returns,
And thus exulting cried. ‘Rejoice, O king!
‘There is no foe, no man to meet our swords,
‘But there are women, numberless; the wives
‘Of these our fierce invaders. Children too,
‘Countless are there, rising, with venom charged,
‘To aid their fathers.’
Alfred heard, nor paused
Longer if mercy he might shew or not,
Than doth the running brook which path to take
When stones its course oppose. Aloud he cried,
‘Propitious moment! When the brave behold
‘Where to display their brav'ry, fervent joy
‘Makes glad their heart. These women we will spare.
‘We will do justice to ourselves! our swords
‘On men war only. Sad the destiny
‘That prompts the warrior's deeds, but when he finds
‘A cheap and bloodless vict'ry, unforeseen;
‘It cheers his heart, like some well water'd spot,
‘Verdant and fair, 'mid Lybia's burning sands,
‘The fainting trav'ler.’—Scarce had Alfred said,
When shouts arose, ‘Spare, spare the weak. Our swords
‘Must meet resistance, victory else were shame,’
Longer if mercy he might shew or not,
Than doth the running brook which path to take
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‘Propitious moment! When the brave behold
‘Where to display their brav'ry, fervent joy
‘Makes glad their heart. These women we will spare.
‘We will do justice to ourselves! our swords
‘On men war only. Sad the destiny
‘That prompts the warrior's deeds, but when he finds
‘A cheap and bloodless vict'ry, unforeseen;
‘It cheers his heart, like some well water'd spot,
‘Verdant and fair, 'mid Lybia's burning sands,
‘The fainting trav'ler.’—Scarce had Alfred said,
When shouts arose, ‘Spare, spare the weak. Our swords
‘Must meet resistance, victory else were shame,’
Now toward the beach they haste. Whilst on their way,
Speeding o'er neighbouring hill, Alfred espied
Two Danes escaping. ‘Mark them!’ he exclaim'd.
‘Sigbert, I know thee fleet and resolute.
‘Take with thee whom thou wilt. Haste after them,
‘And when o'ercome, conduct them to our sight:
‘If not arrested, tidings they may bear
‘Injurious to our purpose.’—Sigbert heard,
And bounded on alone.
Speeding o'er neighbouring hill, Alfred espied
Two Danes escaping. ‘Mark them!’ he exclaim'd.
‘Sigbert, I know thee fleet and resolute.
‘Take with thee whom thou wilt. Haste after them,
‘And when o'ercome, conduct them to our sight:
‘If not arrested, tidings they may bear
‘Injurious to our purpose.’—Sigbert heard,
And bounded on alone.
To those around
Alfred thus spake: ‘Light ye your brands. I lead—
‘To give yon fleet to the devouring flames.’
Waving the torch, fast to the ships they speed.
These having reach'd, the king with wonder saw
No bank to guard! no forces to protect!
‘This,’ he exclaim'd, ‘is Danish confidence!
‘Beholding none to check them, they believed
‘This isle subdued, and every Saxon's sword
‘Wrench'd from his grasp. Delusion oft is found
‘Precursor of destruction.’
Alfred thus spake: ‘Light ye your brands. I lead—
‘To give yon fleet to the devouring flames.’
Waving the torch, fast to the ships they speed.
These having reach'd, the king with wonder saw
No bank to guard! no forces to protect!
‘This,’ he exclaim'd, ‘is Danish confidence!
‘Beholding none to check them, they believed
‘This isle subdued, and every Saxon's sword
‘Wrench'd from his grasp. Delusion oft is found
‘Precursor of destruction.’
Alfred now,
Foremost proceeded to the stranded ships
Bearing the Danish women, and exclaim'd,
‘Strangers whence are you?’ From a bark uprose
A woman tall, who to the king drew near,
And with an eye of fiery meaning cried:
‘First murder me! Saxon behold my heart!’
The king awhile stood silent, then replied:
‘Woman! thy death I seek not,’ With wild eye,
Him she address'd: ‘Thou art the Saxon foe!
‘Mercy we ask not, but, to death look on
‘Firm as thou seest me! All here await—
‘Slaughter! We are forsaken of our gods—
‘Our husbands: let us die! But this I say,
‘I am the wife of one renown'd in war,
‘Who, for my death, over this land will spread
‘One sea of gore, whilst Danes to madness stung,
‘Shall hunt thee down to Hela's flaming gates;
‘Thee and thy race! Now let the hungry ravens
‘Wade through our blood—Death hath no terrors here!’
Foremost proceeded to the stranded ships
157
‘Strangers whence are you?’ From a bark uprose
A woman tall, who to the king drew near,
And with an eye of fiery meaning cried:
‘First murder me! Saxon behold my heart!’
The king awhile stood silent, then replied:
‘Woman! thy death I seek not,’ With wild eye,
Him she address'd: ‘Thou art the Saxon foe!
‘Mercy we ask not, but, to death look on
‘Firm as thou seest me! All here await—
‘Slaughter! We are forsaken of our gods—
‘Our husbands: let us die! But this I say,
‘I am the wife of one renown'd in war,
‘Who, for my death, over this land will spread
‘One sea of gore, whilst Danes to madness stung,
‘Shall hunt thee down to Hela's flaming gates;
‘Thee and thy race! Now let the hungry ravens
‘Wade through our blood—Death hath no terrors here!’
By her bold words, rous'd to superior rage,
Each Danish woman rose, and from the barks
Look'd eager, waiting undismay'd their end;
Whilst Saxons, thronging round, astonish'd saw
The look of fury, and the eye that spake—
Infuriate passion. Alfred thus replied:
‘Rash women, cease! Your lives are safe! Abide,
‘Here, where you are; no harm shall on you light;
‘But if you rather seek your husbands, go!
‘Protected here or there. This fleet must fall.
‘But as we war on men, and men alone,
‘The mother and her infant, Saxon wrath
‘Will never light upon. To show you all
‘What hearts are ours, not to yourselves alone
‘Safety we grant, your food shall be preserved.
‘The barks that hold it, still shall minister
‘To your requirements, and if aught should fail,
‘A foe, unsparing, shall replenish it.’
Each Danish woman rose, and from the barks
Look'd eager, waiting undismay'd their end;
Whilst Saxons, thronging round, astonish'd saw
The look of fury, and the eye that spake—
Infuriate passion. Alfred thus replied:
‘Rash women, cease! Your lives are safe! Abide,
‘Here, where you are; no harm shall on you light;
‘But if you rather seek your husbands, go!
‘Protected here or there. This fleet must fall.
‘But as we war on men, and men alone,
‘The mother and her infant, Saxon wrath
‘Will never light upon. To show you all
‘What hearts are ours, not to yourselves alone
‘Safety we grant, your food shall be preserved.
‘The barks that hold it, still shall minister
‘To your requirements, and if aught should fail,
158
The woman cried, ‘thou art a gallant chief!
‘Pity it were, methinks, to see thee fall,
‘As soon thou must, before the sword, whose edge,
‘Keen as the icy blast, thou knowest not.
‘Here will we, waiting, mark the fiery brand.—
‘Devour and spoil!’
‘Pity it were, methinks, to see thee fall,
‘As soon thou must, before the sword, whose edge,
‘Keen as the icy blast, thou knowest not.
‘Here will we, waiting, mark the fiery brand.—
‘Devour and spoil!’
The king to those around,
Turning, thus spake. ‘Vet'rans, regard your prince!
‘No man of Saxon blood, howe'er provok'd,
‘Will lift his hand 'gainst woman. Such are safe,
‘Alike in war or peace.—Cowards, alone,
‘(Unworthy the ennobling name of man)
‘Daughters of Eve, will strike, or persecute.’
‘To those around he cried,—‘On this whole fleet,—
‘Save such as bear the mothers, and their food,
‘Waste! Spare not! Devastate!’—He scarce had said,
When flaming brands advance—from bark to bark,
'Till one wide blaze illumines earth and heaven!
Turning, thus spake. ‘Vet'rans, regard your prince!
‘No man of Saxon blood, howe'er provok'd,
‘Will lift his hand 'gainst woman. Such are safe,
‘Alike in war or peace.—Cowards, alone,
‘(Unworthy the ennobling name of man)
‘Daughters of Eve, will strike, or persecute.’
‘To those around he cried,—‘On this whole fleet,—
‘Save such as bear the mothers, and their food,
‘Waste! Spare not! Devastate!’—He scarce had said,
When flaming brands advance—from bark to bark,
'Till one wide blaze illumines earth and heaven!
Whilst the destroying columns raised on high
Their forked splendors, Alfred view'd the scene,
Calm and unmoved—planning the future deed;
Whilst all the host of Saxons sported round;
Exulting in their frantic merriment.
So on some calm and wintry eve, appears
The boreal meteor, through whose dancing light
Arcturus shines, tranquil and dignified,
Urging his destin'd course.
Their forked splendors, Alfred view'd the scene,
Calm and unmoved—planning the future deed;
Whilst all the host of Saxons sported round;
Exulting in their frantic merriment.
So on some calm and wintry eve, appears
The boreal meteor, through whose dancing light
Arcturus shines, tranquil and dignified,
Urging his destin'd course.
As in the west
The glorious sun appeared, the blaze of earth
Still mingled with the crimson glow of heaven:
When Alfred cried, ‘Brave and intrepid men!
‘Had Danes opposed, then had your courage shone;
‘Now is the honor less, the use the same:
‘Thanks fervent to the unseen hand of heaven!
‘Now will we march to Selwood, and embrace
‘Our waiting brethren; then are we prepared
‘To meet the Danish chieftains and decide
‘Oddune's suspended fate.’ Instant they cried,
‘To Selwood! Live our prince!’ when Sigbert stood,
Sudden, before the king!—
The glorious sun appeared, the blaze of earth
Still mingled with the crimson glow of heaven:
When Alfred cried, ‘Brave and intrepid men!
‘Had Danes opposed, then had your courage shone;
‘Now is the honor less, the use the same:
159
‘Now will we march to Selwood, and embrace
‘Our waiting brethren; then are we prepared
‘To meet the Danish chieftains and decide
‘Oddune's suspended fate.’ Instant they cried,
‘To Selwood! Live our prince!’ when Sigbert stood,
Sudden, before the king!—
Dark was his eye,
While not a word he spake. The king exclaim'd,
‘Where now the Danes?’ Nor yet a word he spake,
But, look'd to earth, abash'd, when Alfred thus:
‘Thy sword is bloody! I conjure thee, say
‘Whence came it?’ He replied, ‘O king,
‘I fear to tell thee;—I have slain the foe.’
‘Slain him! cried Alfred, ‘How,’ and whence the deed?
‘Did I not warn thee with a monarch's voice
‘To spare him, and conduct him to our sight?’
Sigbert thus answer'd. ‘Lenient some may be,
‘I cannot spare a Dane. One hideous form,
‘And one alone, of the two flying foes,
‘These eyes beheld. O'ertaking him, I cried,
‘Dane! death is near. We fought; I vanquish'd him;
‘And who the Ordeal fears, feels not as I!’
‘When vanquish'd,’ Alfred said, ‘why brought'st thou not
‘Thy one foe hither?’ Sigbert answer made.
While not a word he spake. The king exclaim'd,
‘Where now the Danes?’ Nor yet a word he spake,
But, look'd to earth, abash'd, when Alfred thus:
‘Thy sword is bloody! I conjure thee, say
‘Whence came it?’ He replied, ‘O king,
‘I fear to tell thee;—I have slain the foe.’
‘Slain him! cried Alfred, ‘How,’ and whence the deed?
‘Did I not warn thee with a monarch's voice
‘To spare him, and conduct him to our sight?’
Sigbert thus answer'd. ‘Lenient some may be,
‘I cannot spare a Dane. One hideous form,
‘And one alone, of the two flying foes,
‘These eyes beheld. O'ertaking him, I cried,
‘Dane! death is near. We fought; I vanquish'd him;
‘And who the Ordeal fears, feels not as I!’
‘When vanquish'd,’ Alfred said, ‘why brought'st thou not
‘Thy one foe hither?’ Sigbert answer made.
‘It must be told!—then, know, O king! the Dane
‘Pleaded for life, and earnest, but mine ear
‘Scorn'd his petition. Him I thus address'd:
‘If angels from their silver clouds look'd down,
‘And shouted, ‘Spare him!’ with a voice of thunder,
‘I would disdain them all, for ere thou breath'st
‘A second time, thy venom'd blood shall flow!
‘So saying, I the prostrate demon slew.’
‘Pleaded for life, and earnest, but mine ear
‘Scorn'd his petition. Him I thus address'd:
‘If angels from their silver clouds look'd down,
‘And shouted, ‘Spare him!’ with a voice of thunder,
‘I would disdain them all, for ere thou breath'st
‘A second time, thy venom'd blood shall flow!
‘So saying, I the prostrate demon slew.’
‘What!’ Alfred said. ‘Didst thou disdain a foe
‘Asking for mercy?’ Sigbert thus; ‘I did,
‘For thinking of my many wrongs, I cried,
‘When tigers spare their prey, then, nor till then,
‘I will spare thee, and instant through his heart
‘Plunged this my sword.’ With slow and solemn tone
Alfred replied, ‘Thou art no friend of mine!
‘I now disclaim thee! Never from this hour
‘Approach thy king, but let the murderer's scorn
‘Light on thee, and reward this evil deed!’
160
‘For thinking of my many wrongs, I cried,
‘When tigers spare their prey, then, nor till then,
‘I will spare thee, and instant through his heart
‘Plunged this my sword.’ With slow and solemn tone
Alfred replied, ‘Thou art no friend of mine!
‘I now disclaim thee! Never from this hour
‘Approach thy king, but let the murderer's scorn
‘Light on thee, and reward this evil deed!’
Sigbert look'd earth-ward, with the visage dark
Accused by conscience, deadliest of all foes!—
Then turn'd, and, sad at heart, roam'd far away.
When Alfred, joyous, thns address'd his bands;
Loud exultation round.—‘Rejoice, brave men!
‘This night hath saved the state! Return we now
‘To Selwood. On the morrow we may say
‘Where duty next shall call us.’—
Accused by conscience, deadliest of all foes!—
Then turn'd, and, sad at heart, roam'd far away.
When Alfred, joyous, thns address'd his bands;
Loud exultation round.—‘Rejoice, brave men!
‘This night hath saved the state! Return we now
‘To Selwood. On the morrow we may say
‘Where duty next shall call us.’—
The wide shore
Rang with their loud acclaim—re-echoed far;
And all triumphant to the forest march'd.
Rang with their loud acclaim—re-echoed far;
And all triumphant to the forest march'd.
| Alfred | |