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. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. | BOOK XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
216
BOOK XIV.
ARGUMENT.
Alfred's visit to the Danish camp.
Cautious and slow the royal harper moved,
Onward toward Kenwith's castle. One so used
To feel the hard earth's pillow, dreaded not
The midnight hour, advancing. He beheld,
Clear from the hill-top, where he stood, the sun,
In his effulgence, bathing Cambria's land,
(The intervening sea one mass of fire!)
Whose mountain peaks, precipitous, were clothed
With a magnificence unspeakable,
That awed the spirit, and o'er heaven diffused
A splendour—too intense for mortal sight!
One little cloud, dark, ominous, remote,
Comes sailing onward, but it vanishes
Before a scene so charged with brilliancy.
Alfred awhile entranced, stood motionless;
When, to beguile the solitary hour,
He seized the harp. He could not choose but sing.
Onward toward Kenwith's castle. One so used
To feel the hard earth's pillow, dreaded not
The midnight hour, advancing. He beheld,
Clear from the hill-top, where he stood, the sun,
In his effulgence, bathing Cambria's land,
(The intervening sea one mass of fire!)
Whose mountain peaks, precipitous, were clothed
With a magnificence unspeakable,
That awed the spirit, and o'er heaven diffused
A splendour—too intense for mortal sight!
One little cloud, dark, ominous, remote,
Comes sailing onward, but it vanishes
Before a scene so charged with brilliancy.
Alfred awhile entranced, stood motionless;
When, to beguile the solitary hour,
He seized the harp. He could not choose but sing.
If hour there be, when pleasure fills the breast,
As nature, robed in beauty, sleeps profound;
When woods and streams, in fairy vision round,
Reflect the peaceful splendors of the west,—
That hour is this!—In pomp austerer drest,
Now Severn kindles thro' his ample bound,
And Cambria's lordly hills in glory lie,
O'er-canopied by clouds of gorgeous dye;
While sea-birds sport amid the sapphire wave,—
Rolling the line eternal to the strand.—
Ah! there, a solitary vessel brave
Glides glowing on, by fostering zephyrs fanned.
Our Empress Isle, profuse of pearl and gem,
Here wears her proud and matchless diadem.
As nature, robed in beauty, sleeps profound;
When woods and streams, in fairy vision round,
Reflect the peaceful splendors of the west,—
217
Now Severn kindles thro' his ample bound,
And Cambria's lordly hills in glory lie,
O'er-canopied by clouds of gorgeous dye;
While sea-birds sport amid the sapphire wave,—
Rolling the line eternal to the strand.—
Ah! there, a solitary vessel brave
Glides glowing on, by fostering zephyrs fanned.
Our Empress Isle, profuse of pearl and gem,
Here wears her proud and matchless diadem.
Emblem of human things. What change is there!
The clouds are gathering blackness! Night comes on!
The sun, the hill-top, and the concave wide
Munificent in glory, all is fled!
Darkness still deepens! Thro' the rayless sky
The winds arise, precursor of the storm!
It comes!—the hurricane, in terrors dress'd!
Ah! there the vessel brave, so late, in pride
Gliding triumphant o'er the sportive wave,
Conflicting with the billows, now ascends!—
Again explores the watery vale below!—
Braving the angry surge—rocks, perils round!
She labours hard! The lightnings dart their fires
Successive, follow'd by intenser night—
With thunders, loud, careering thro' the sky!
Would she may bear the beatings of the storm!
Alfred awhile, the sight and sound endured.
He hears—with the unutterable pang,
The seaman's voice—borne fitful on the blast!
Ah! vain their cry! no mortal man can save!
In meditation lost, he seized his harp,
And pours his notes of pity on the gale.
The clouds are gathering blackness! Night comes on!
The sun, the hill-top, and the concave wide
Munificent in glory, all is fled!
Darkness still deepens! Thro' the rayless sky
The winds arise, precursor of the storm!
It comes!—the hurricane, in terrors dress'd!
Ah! there the vessel brave, so late, in pride
Gliding triumphant o'er the sportive wave,
Conflicting with the billows, now ascends!—
Again explores the watery vale below!—
Braving the angry surge—rocks, perils round!
She labours hard! The lightnings dart their fires
Successive, follow'd by intenser night—
With thunders, loud, careering thro' the sky!
Would she may bear the beatings of the storm!
Alfred awhile, the sight and sound endured.
He hears—with the unutterable pang,
The seaman's voice—borne fitful on the blast!
Ah! vain their cry! no mortal man can save!
In meditation lost, he seized his harp,
And pours his notes of pity on the gale.
Severn! thy billows lash the rocky shore
Heard terrible, thro' midnight reigning round!
The lightnings flash, the winds imperious sound!
While thunders, fierce, from nature's awful store,
Traverse wide heaven in loud and lengthen'd roar,
Till crash on crash, convulsive shakes the ground!
Voices faint mingle with the troubled sky!—
It is the ship-men's voice, who aid require!
In pity to the suffering seaman's cry,
Clouds! check your fury! Tempests! stay your ire!—
That fervid blast of elemental fire!
Ah! there the vessel sinks!—no succour nigh!
The winds are hush'd!—the thunders cease to rave!
And all is still—but the dark rolling wave!
Heard terrible, thro' midnight reigning round!
The lightnings flash, the winds imperious sound!
While thunders, fierce, from nature's awful store,
218
Till crash on crash, convulsive shakes the ground!
Voices faint mingle with the troubled sky!—
It is the ship-men's voice, who aid require!
In pity to the suffering seaman's cry,
Clouds! check your fury! Tempests! stay your ire!—
That fervid blast of elemental fire!
Ah! there the vessel sinks!—no succour nigh!
The winds are hush'd!—the thunders cease to rave!
And all is still—but the dark rolling wave!
Long, and in loneliness, the beating storm—
Alfred withstood, then, pillow'd on his harp,
His heart to heaven uplifted, he, on earth,
Stretches his weary limbs—sleep far away,
And waits the morn, with all its unknown cares.
Alfred withstood, then, pillow'd on his harp,
His heart to heaven uplifted, he, on earth,
Stretches his weary limbs—sleep far away,
And waits the morn, with all its unknown cares.
Now, in the orient, streaks of grey appear.
The king beheld, and, with a heart devout,
Upon the green-sward kneeling—pour'd the prayer—
To heaven's High Ruler; when, his spirit felt
Calm solace, and toward Kenwith's lofty towers.
Fearless he pass'd.—The trying hour is come!
He sees the castle!—Denmark's hordes around!
Whilst on their numbers gazing, a cold chill
Creeps thro' his frame!—‘These feelings,’ cried the king
‘Nature must own, they spring not from this heart.’
The king beheld, and, with a heart devout,
Upon the green-sward kneeling—pour'd the prayer—
To heaven's High Ruler; when, his spirit felt
Calm solace, and toward Kenwith's lofty towers.
Fearless he pass'd.—The trying hour is come!
He sees the castle!—Denmark's hordes around!
Whilst on their numbers gazing, a cold chill
Creeps thro' his frame!—‘These feelings,’ cried the king
‘Nature must own, they spring not from this heart.’
Yet Alfred felt, while gazing at the Danes,
Like youth, who, on a distant voyage bent,
Leaves friends and parents, trav'lling, stout at heart,
Who never yet the ocean wide has seen;
And when at first he spies, from some high hill
The wat'ry world beneath,—clear, motionless,
Stretching in long expanse of meadow green,
He shivers, serious grown, and scarce believes
That plain, so vast, faint blending with the sky
Can be old ocean!—'till at length is seen—
The light skiff sailing, and the breakers' play.
Ah! then he owns, and wonders, and half thinks,
His roving check'd, how wiser far, to rest
Calm in his in-land dwelling, 'till, at length,
Familiar grown with the terrific sight,
His heart returns, and all his perils flee.
Thus Alfred felt. Whilst in the vale beneath
He spied the Danes, unnumber'd, in array
Of direful aspect; he half look'd behind,
Thinking of safe retreat in Selwood's wilds;
Till the first feeling master'd, firm of soul,
He, from the rock of adamant, his mind!
Gazed on unterrified.,
Like youth, who, on a distant voyage bent,
Leaves friends and parents, trav'lling, stout at heart,
Who never yet the ocean wide has seen;
And when at first he spies, from some high hill
The wat'ry world beneath,—clear, motionless,
Stretching in long expanse of meadow green,
He shivers, serious grown, and scarce believes
That plain, so vast, faint blending with the sky
Can be old ocean!—'till at length is seen—
219
Ah! then he owns, and wonders, and half thinks,
His roving check'd, how wiser far, to rest
Calm in his in-land dwelling, 'till, at length,
Familiar grown with the terrific sight,
His heart returns, and all his perils flee.
Thus Alfred felt. Whilst in the vale beneath
He spied the Danes, unnumber'd, in array
Of direful aspect; he half look'd behind,
Thinking of safe retreat in Selwood's wilds;
Till the first feeling master'd, firm of soul,
He, from the rock of adamant, his mind!
Gazed on unterrified.,
As thus he stood,
He heard a noise, and, looking round, beholds
A hostile band of Danes—approaching fast!
When from his back the king his harp prepared,
And struck the merry note.—Near him they draw,
When Alfred ceas'd his tune, and bent profound,
His cap presenting for some recompense.—
Aloud, the Danish leader cried,—‘Young man!
‘But for that instrument, thou hadst, ere this,
‘Grappled with death. Who art thou? What thy name?
‘Speak, or this sword shall with thy heart's blood play!’
He heard a noise, and, looking round, beholds
A hostile band of Danes—approaching fast!
When from his back the king his harp prepared,
And struck the merry note.—Near him they draw,
When Alfred ceas'd his tune, and bent profound,
His cap presenting for some recompense.—
Aloud, the Danish leader cried,—‘Young man!
‘But for that instrument, thou hadst, ere this,
‘Grappled with death. Who art thou? What thy name?
‘Speak, or this sword shall with thy heart's blood play!’
Alfred replied, ‘I am a wandering man.
‘Honest, tho' poor, and used with this good harp
‘To play, as late ye heard me. Would you more,
‘Of music hear?’ ‘Aye, play!’ exclaimed the Dane.
The king then touch'd his harp with such sweet notes
Of tenderest minstrelsy, that the warm tear
Within his eye, each iron-hearted Dane
Felt start. One cried, ‘'Tis well! Now play again.’
When Alfred with a bolder finger swept
The sounding string, and roused the martial soul
In all who heard, making their wild eyes glare,—
Their limbs, in frantic attitude dance round,
Till, fearful for himself and harp, he stopp'd.
When a ferocious Dane enraged exclaim'd,
Raising his sword,
‘Honest, tho' poor, and used with this good harp
‘To play, as late ye heard me. Would you more,
‘Of music hear?’ ‘Aye, play!’ exclaimed the Dane.
The king then touch'd his harp with such sweet notes
Of tenderest minstrelsy, that the warm tear
Within his eye, each iron-hearted Dane
Felt start. One cried, ‘'Tis well! Now play again.’
When Alfred with a bolder finger swept
The sounding string, and roused the martial soul
In all who heard, making their wild eyes glare,—
220
Till, fearful for himself and harp, he stopp'd.
When a ferocious Dane enraged exclaim'd,
Raising his sword,
‘Thou art a Saxon man!
‘Unused are we to let such pass unharm'd,
‘And doubtful now I stand, whether to spare,
‘Or with this sword consume thee.’ Once again,
Alfred his harp uplifted, and began
A mild and soul-subduing song, of one,
A shepherd youth, who lov'd a shepherdess,
‘Mid winter's snows, fated one grave to find.
‘Unused are we to let such pass unharm'd,
‘And doubtful now I stand, whether to spare,
‘Or with this sword consume thee.’ Once again,
Alfred his harp uplifted, and began
A mild and soul-subduing song, of one,
A shepherd youth, who lov'd a shepherdess,
‘Mid winter's snows, fated one grave to find.
‘Sweet are thy notes, young minstrel, cried the Dane,
‘But thou art still a Saxon!’ As the king—
To pour the song, again upraised his harp,
The haughty Dane exclaim'd,—‘Withhold thy hand!
‘I scorn thy melody! Say whence thou cam'st,
‘And instant, as thou valuest life, declare,
‘If aught thou know'st of Alfred, or what path
‘Oddune his Chief pursued.’—
‘But thou art still a Saxon!’ As the king—
To pour the song, again upraised his harp,
The haughty Dane exclaim'd,—‘Withhold thy hand!
‘I scorn thy melody! Say whence thou cam'st,
‘And instant, as thou valuest life, declare,
‘If aught thou know'st of Alfred, or what path
‘Oddune his Chief pursued.’—
When, thus the king:
‘I am a simple harper, and I love
‘My harp so well, so little do I heed
‘The bustling world and all the strifes of men,
‘That, wandering unconcern'd, I know no care,
‘But to preserve my harp, and sit at ease.’
‘I am a simple harper, and I love
‘My harp so well, so little do I heed
‘The bustling world and all the strifes of men,
‘That, wandering unconcern'd, I know no care,
‘But to preserve my harp, and sit at ease.’
‘Speak! or this sword!’ exclaim'd the angry Dane.
‘Know'st thou of Alfred?—of his place and state?’
When, wild of look, again the king replied;—
‘In wandering o'er this land, I sometimes hear
‘Of him you ask for. Is he not our king?’
‘A simple fellow,’ cried a Dane. Forbear!
‘Let us depart. From him we nought can learn,
‘And, 'tis most manifest, can nothing fear.’
When on they march'd.
‘Know'st thou of Alfred?—of his place and state?’
When, wild of look, again the king replied;—
‘In wandering o'er this land, I sometimes hear
‘Of him you ask for. Is he not our king?’
‘A simple fellow,’ cried a Dane. Forbear!
‘Let us depart. From him we nought can learn,
‘And, 'tis most manifest, can nothing fear.’
221
Alfred beheld them go,
And felt like one, a northern mariner,
Who, sailing near that vortex, far renown'd
Through all the Arctic, finds, half wild with dread,
His vent'rous bark, check'd in her bold career,
And moving toward the fatal gulf, that roars
Loud in his hearing, whilst no gales arise—
To check th'inevitable fate, and fast,
Fast, and more fast, the vessel moves to death!
When, rushing thro' the clouds, the wind is heard!
And soon it fills the sails, and while his eye
Gazed on destruction, bears him safe away.
And felt like one, a northern mariner,
Who, sailing near that vortex, far renown'd
Through all the Arctic, finds, half wild with dread,
His vent'rous bark, check'd in her bold career,
And moving toward the fatal gulf, that roars
Loud in his hearing, whilst no gales arise—
To check th'inevitable fate, and fast,
Fast, and more fast, the vessel moves to death!
When, rushing thro' the clouds, the wind is heard!
And soon it fills the sails, and while his eye
Gazed on destruction, bears him safe away.
A secret dread now came upon the king,
He saw one peril o'er, and tho' he strove
To dissipate all fear, he could but view,
That morning, as a presage of worse ills,
Approaching fast. Contemplating he stood,
And to himself in serious mood thus spake:
‘This hour my life is spared, from unlook'd cause,—
‘Sudden deception! May it not succeed
‘In season yet to come? Once Israel's king
‘Found safety by assumption such as this,
‘And why not I? This garb I have not worn,
‘And a reluctant feeling wars within;
‘Yet when my country calls for sacrifice,
‘Shall I deny her? Heaven vouchsafe his aid!
‘This my resolve. Hence meet I undismay'd,
‘All perils and all circumstance!’—He now
Draws near the foe, and when he saw their tents,
And knew that he was mark'd by Danes, he cried,
‘Danger before me stands, but death behind.’
He saw one peril o'er, and tho' he strove
To dissipate all fear, he could but view,
That morning, as a presage of worse ills,
Approaching fast. Contemplating he stood,
And to himself in serious mood thus spake:
‘This hour my life is spared, from unlook'd cause,—
‘Sudden deception! May it not succeed
‘In season yet to come? Once Israel's king
‘Found safety by assumption such as this,
‘And why not I? This garb I have not worn,
‘And a reluctant feeling wars within;
‘Yet when my country calls for sacrifice,
‘Shall I deny her? Heaven vouchsafe his aid!
‘This my resolve. Hence meet I undismay'd,
‘All perils and all circumstance!’—He now
Draws near the foe, and when he saw their tents,
And knew that he was mark'd by Danes, he cried,
‘Danger before me stands, but death behind.’
He pass'd the centinel, who saw his harp,
And gave him passage. Through the ranks he sped,
Like one who business sought. Now bolder grown,
He on his harp play'd cheerily, when soon,
Full many a Dane, around the minstrel stands,
And listen'd joyous, when, one cried aloud,
‘Is not this man a Saxon? Dreads he not
‘The Danish camp?’ Another thus replied;
‘A Saxon truly, but a man who cares,
‘For neither Dane nor Saxon; thee or me.
‘So he may eat and live.’ His cheerful song
Now Alfred ceased, and as the custom was,
Like humble suppliant, of the listeners round
Ask'd slender pittance.
And gave him passage. Through the ranks he sped,
222
He on his harp play'd cheerily, when soon,
Full many a Dane, around the minstrel stands,
And listen'd joyous, when, one cried aloud,
‘Is not this man a Saxon? Dreads he not
‘The Danish camp?’ Another thus replied;
‘A Saxon truly, but a man who cares,
‘For neither Dane nor Saxon; thee or me.
‘So he may eat and live.’ His cheerful song
Now Alfred ceased, and as the custom was,
Like humble suppliant, of the listeners round
Ask'd slender pittance.
‘What would'st thou receive?’
Once pleasantly inquired; ‘We have our swords,
‘Our bucklers, and good darts, which thee might pierce,
‘When at some distance, but, (dissatisfied)
‘If more thou seek, play on!’ Th' obedient king
Striving to win their smiles by courtesy,
Heard, and his harp to other cadence strung;
Then sought for recompence. The Dane exclaim'd,
‘Thou scorner of our gods, and Denmark's foe,
‘I have half mind to send thee to the realms
‘Where Hela reigns.’ When grasping the king's harp,
He would have dash'd it down, but Alfred cried,
‘Take not a poor man's bread! his only store,
‘With which he cheats his sorrows. Yield that harp,
‘Useless to thee, to me most dear.’ The Dane
As Alfred spake, to banter with his smiles,
Awhile forebore, and when the king had ceased,
He raised again his arm.—That instant pass'd
Guthrum, the Danish chieftain. Near he came,
And viewing well the instrument, inquired
Who own'd it, and the cause of that sad voice,
Which struck his ear.—Alfred beheld the chief,
And drawing nigh, replied, whilst bending low,
‘It is thy servant's! Pity me, my lord!
‘A stranger, and to me restore yon harp.’
‘Who art thou?’ cried the Dane, ‘and wherefore here?’
Once pleasantly inquired; ‘We have our swords,
‘Our bucklers, and good darts, which thee might pierce,
‘When at some distance, but, (dissatisfied)
‘If more thou seek, play on!’ Th' obedient king
Striving to win their smiles by courtesy,
Heard, and his harp to other cadence strung;
Then sought for recompence. The Dane exclaim'd,
‘Thou scorner of our gods, and Denmark's foe,
‘I have half mind to send thee to the realms
‘Where Hela reigns.’ When grasping the king's harp,
He would have dash'd it down, but Alfred cried,
‘Take not a poor man's bread! his only store,
‘With which he cheats his sorrows. Yield that harp,
‘Useless to thee, to me most dear.’ The Dane
As Alfred spake, to banter with his smiles,
Awhile forebore, and when the king had ceased,
He raised again his arm.—That instant pass'd
Guthrum, the Danish chieftain. Near he came,
And viewing well the instrument, inquired
Who own'd it, and the cause of that sad voice,
Which struck his ear.—Alfred beheld the chief,
And drawing nigh, replied, whilst bending low,
‘It is thy servant's! Pity me, my lord!
223
‘Who art thou?’ cried the Dane, ‘and wherefore here?’
‘I am a simple man,’ the king replied,
‘Who loves sweet minstrelsy; and oft at eve,
‘In lonely wanderings, by the slow brook's side,
‘I pass my time; and whilst my harp is heard,
‘Birds on their wings move slow, or perch around
‘On bush, or tree, to catch one passing note,
‘With which to charm the ear of lonely man,
‘List'ning so earnest, that he half forgets
‘The woes that made him lonely.’ Fearing, now,
His speech too luminous for wilder'd man,
Then he pursued. ‘Oft as the stars are up
‘And I can hear the night-birds whistling loud,
‘I touch my harp to solemn music, sounds
‘That give the air a stillness. I have seen,
‘High in the heavens, the moon suspend her course
‘To listen to my strains, whilst the proud trees,
‘So lofty over head, have hush'd their noise,
‘And only to the loud gale bent themselves
‘When I have ceased. There is my gentle harp.
‘And if I ne'er should gain it, I must roam,
‘Mourning, this land about; or, in a bark,
‘Sail up and down the ocean, calling loud
‘On my lost friend; or, roused to fiercer wrath,
‘When'er the stars of night—shoot their red balls,
‘Fly after them, and e'er their flight hath ceased,
‘Seize, and direct their unextinguished course
‘To him who robb'd me.’—Guthrum cried, ‘Poor man!
‘A wand'ring lunatic, that here hath stray'd
‘Unconscious. Instant yield the harp, oh Dane!
‘For tho' we war on Saxons, we will spare
‘Whom gods have warred on.’ Alfred took the harp,
And bending to the chief, with thankful heart,
Pursued his onward way.
With cautious eye
He marked the Danes, their number, and their state;
Proud in their force, of victory confident,
Incautious grown, and scorning their weak foe.
Now of his queen he thought, and that her ear
Might catch some sound, some desultory note,
He touch'd the harp, and thus, disconsolate,
Sang as he play'd. ‘Oh, thou my soul's desire,
‘Where'er thou art, come forth, and let me see,
‘Thy long-lost countenance.’
‘Who loves sweet minstrelsy; and oft at eve,
‘In lonely wanderings, by the slow brook's side,
‘I pass my time; and whilst my harp is heard,
‘Birds on their wings move slow, or perch around
‘On bush, or tree, to catch one passing note,
‘With which to charm the ear of lonely man,
‘List'ning so earnest, that he half forgets
‘The woes that made him lonely.’ Fearing, now,
His speech too luminous for wilder'd man,
Then he pursued. ‘Oft as the stars are up
‘And I can hear the night-birds whistling loud,
‘I touch my harp to solemn music, sounds
‘That give the air a stillness. I have seen,
‘High in the heavens, the moon suspend her course
‘To listen to my strains, whilst the proud trees,
‘So lofty over head, have hush'd their noise,
‘And only to the loud gale bent themselves
‘When I have ceased. There is my gentle harp.
‘And if I ne'er should gain it, I must roam,
‘Mourning, this land about; or, in a bark,
‘Sail up and down the ocean, calling loud
‘On my lost friend; or, roused to fiercer wrath,
‘When'er the stars of night—shoot their red balls,
‘Fly after them, and e'er their flight hath ceased,
‘Seize, and direct their unextinguished course
‘To him who robb'd me.’—Guthrum cried, ‘Poor man!
‘A wand'ring lunatic, that here hath stray'd
‘Unconscious. Instant yield the harp, oh Dane!
‘For tho' we war on Saxons, we will spare
‘Whom gods have warred on.’ Alfred took the harp,
And bending to the chief, with thankful heart,
Pursued his onward way.
224
He marked the Danes, their number, and their state;
Proud in their force, of victory confident,
Incautious grown, and scorning their weak foe.
Now of his queen he thought, and that her ear
Might catch some sound, some desultory note,
He touch'd the harp, and thus, disconsolate,
Sang as he play'd. ‘Oh, thou my soul's desire,
‘Where'er thou art, come forth, and let me see,
‘Thy long-lost countenance.’
The men who stray'd
With the wild harper, heard, and thus exclaim'd:
‘He calleth now the moon, but he shall call
‘For many an hour, ere from her distant course
‘She answer him.’ Again he struck the harp,
Veiling his song in words of mystery.
‘Life of my life, and idol of my heart,
‘Come forth and see thy minstrel! Sick and sad,
‘He wanders through the sea, and earth, and air,
‘To meet thy glance, beloved! Look around,
‘And ease his pain, who never joy hath felt
‘Since thou didst leave him. From the clouds above
‘Appear, bless'd spirit! from yon purple cloud,
‘Behold me faithful still, nor let me more
‘Wander through earth, estranged from happiness,
With the wild harper, heard, and thus exclaim'd:
‘He calleth now the moon, but he shall call
‘For many an hour, ere from her distant course
‘She answer him.’ Again he struck the harp,
Veiling his song in words of mystery.
‘Life of my life, and idol of my heart,
‘Come forth and see thy minstrel! Sick and sad,
‘He wanders through the sea, and earth, and air,
‘To meet thy glance, beloved! Look around,
‘And ease his pain, who never joy hath felt
‘Since thou didst leave him. From the clouds above
‘Appear, bless'd spirit! from yon purple cloud,
‘Behold me faithful still, nor let me more
‘Wander through earth, estranged from happiness,
Now thro' the gate-way he essay'd to pass,
When one, resisting, cried, ‘Stranger, thy name?’
‘My name,’ replied the king, ‘is with the moon,
‘And sun, and stars. Upon the rainbow bright,
‘Laughing I stride, and when the night draws near,
‘Upon the beach I roam, to pick the shells,
‘Or on the star-fish read my name, and sing
‘The merry song.’
When one, resisting, cried, ‘Stranger, thy name?’
‘My name,’ replied the king, ‘is with the moon,
‘And sun, and stars. Upon the rainbow bright,
‘Laughing I stride, and when the night draws near,
‘Upon the beach I roam, to pick the shells,
‘Or on the star-fish read my name, and sing
‘The merry song.’
One drawing near exclaim'd,
‘A wand'ring lunatic, whom Guthrum's self
‘Bade us respect.’ This said, he pass'd the gate,
Harping and chaunting cheerily, whilst crowds
Fast followed him, lauding his sprightly airs.
Again he spake. ‘Oh show thy lovely face!
‘Charmer come forth, and bless me with the sight
‘So long desired. Upon yon silver cloud
‘Let me behold thee, so shall fervent joy
‘Bound at my heart, and I will laugh aloud,
‘And sing, as now I sing, my cares away.’
‘A wand'ring lunatic, whom Guthrum's self
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Harping and chaunting cheerily, whilst crowds
Fast followed him, lauding his sprightly airs.
Again he spake. ‘Oh show thy lovely face!
‘Charmer come forth, and bless me with the sight
‘So long desired. Upon yon silver cloud
‘Let me behold thee, so shall fervent joy
‘Bound at my heart, and I will laugh aloud,
‘And sing, as now I sing, my cares away.’
While the king pour'd his melancholy strain,
A damsel, Guthrum's daughter, earnest cries,
‘Harper, haste hither.’ Alfred heard a voice,
And looking round, beheld her. At the words,
Ceasing his song, he leaves th' admiring crowd,
Foll'wing his guide.—It was the castle hall
Whereto they went. ‘Harper! sing forth,’ she cried,
‘To soothe the sorrows of yon mourner's heart.
‘Nursing her cares, she sits beside the fire
‘From morning e'en till night.’ Alfred look'd round,—
He saw Alswitha!—By the hearth she sat,
And at the fire intensely gazing, saw,
Or seem'd to see, semblance of friend beloved,
Nor of the harper knew, nor who, around,
Cared any thing, so she might sit and gaze
In idle contemplation.—
A damsel, Guthrum's daughter, earnest cries,
‘Harper, haste hither.’ Alfred heard a voice,
And looking round, beheld her. At the words,
Ceasing his song, he leaves th' admiring crowd,
Foll'wing his guide.—It was the castle hall
Whereto they went. ‘Harper! sing forth,’ she cried,
‘To soothe the sorrows of yon mourner's heart.
‘Nursing her cares, she sits beside the fire
‘From morning e'en till night.’ Alfred look'd round,—
He saw Alswitha!—By the hearth she sat,
And at the fire intensely gazing, saw,
Or seem'd to see, semblance of friend beloved,
Nor of the harper knew, nor who, around,
Cared any thing, so she might sit and gaze
In idle contemplation.—
Alfred play'd—
The song which they had sung in happier days:
She knew the tune! when casting a quick glance
Upon the Harper, trembling, she exclaim'd—
‘What man art thou?’ When, fixing his clear eye
Full at her, he pronounced no word. She saw!
She knew the king! and, shudd'ring, turn'd away,
Whilst her big heart throbb'd loud. The damsel saw
(Though kind and faithful to her sorrowing friend)
The sudden change of countenance both shew'd,
The terror, the surprise; and, as she look'd
Around the hall, grown darker, from the night
Approaching slow, and saw the pale blue fire,
The shadowy world of beings rose; she seem'd
Half conscious of some intellectual strife;
And dim conjectures so o'erpower'd her mind
With forms and shapes ideal, that she stood,
Trembling, 'till grown suspicious of herself,
The place, and all around her, from the hall
She fled precipitate.
The song which they had sung in happier days:
She knew the tune! when casting a quick glance
Upon the Harper, trembling, she exclaim'd—
‘What man art thou?’ When, fixing his clear eye
Full at her, he pronounced no word. She saw!
She knew the king! and, shudd'ring, turn'd away,
Whilst her big heart throbb'd loud. The damsel saw
(Though kind and faithful to her sorrowing friend)
The sudden change of countenance both shew'd,
226
Around the hall, grown darker, from the night
Approaching slow, and saw the pale blue fire,
The shadowy world of beings rose; she seem'd
Half conscious of some intellectual strife;
And dim conjectures so o'erpower'd her mind
With forms and shapes ideal, that she stood,
Trembling, 'till grown suspicious of herself,
The place, and all around her, from the hall
She fled precipitate.
Most like the youth,
Who through the church-yard roams at dead of night,
And when he to the middle path draws nigh,
Determines not to fear, yet fears the more
For all his resolutions; 'till at length
Aerial phantoms dance before his eyes;
When, to imagined fears resign'd, he seeks
Safety in flight, and faster for his speed
Thinks fiends pursuing.—So the damsel rush'd
Out from the hall, and cried to those she saw,
‘What man is this whom ye have hither brought?
‘My heart doth quake.’ The waiting band replied,
‘It is a Saxon harper, wandering here
‘In his mad fits of lunacy. No harm
‘Hath he achieved?’ ‘No harm,’ the damsel said,
‘But I do fear again to enter there,
‘Go ye and bring him forth. But, mark me well,
‘The woman is my friend. Molest her not.’
The Danes rush in, and there the minstrel spy,
Kneeling before the woman: him they bore
From out the hall. Alswitha saw the sight,
And trembled as her death-call she had heard.
Who through the church-yard roams at dead of night,
And when he to the middle path draws nigh,
Determines not to fear, yet fears the more
For all his resolutions; 'till at length
Aerial phantoms dance before his eyes;
When, to imagined fears resign'd, he seeks
Safety in flight, and faster for his speed
Thinks fiends pursuing.—So the damsel rush'd
Out from the hall, and cried to those she saw,
‘What man is this whom ye have hither brought?
‘My heart doth quake.’ The waiting band replied,
‘It is a Saxon harper, wandering here
‘In his mad fits of lunacy. No harm
‘Hath he achieved?’ ‘No harm,’ the damsel said,
‘But I do fear again to enter there,
‘Go ye and bring him forth. But, mark me well,
‘The woman is my friend. Molest her not.’
The Danes rush in, and there the minstrel spy,
Kneeling before the woman: him they bore
From out the hall. Alswitha saw the sight,
And trembled as her death-call she had heard.
Like famished birds around their prey, the Danes
Again encircle Alfred, crying loud,
A song, O, harper!’ Said the weary King,
‘This evening spare me; on the coming morn
‘Your will, be mine; now must I rest myself.’
Yet vain had been his pleadings, had not sounds,
Imperious, call'd them to their nightly tents.
Now, left with midnight, Alfred stretch'd himself,
Heart-sick, and weary, on the chilling ground:
And when the tempest of his mind seem'd hush'd,
And sleep advancing, on the midnight gale,
Shouts of loud mirth were heard, and revelry.
When Alfred thus look'd up to Heaven, and spake:
Again encircle Alfred, crying loud,
A song, O, harper!’ Said the weary King,
227
‘Your will, be mine; now must I rest myself.’
Yet vain had been his pleadings, had not sounds,
Imperious, call'd them to their nightly tents.
Now, left with midnight, Alfred stretch'd himself,
Heart-sick, and weary, on the chilling ground:
And when the tempest of his mind seem'd hush'd,
And sleep advancing, on the midnight gale,
Shouts of loud mirth were heard, and revelry.
When Alfred thus look'd up to Heaven, and spake:
‘Parent and Guardian of all mortal things!
‘The seraphim and worm thou view'st alike!—
‘Thou seest me, Oh, Father! Thou behold'st
‘All living things! Thy power it was which screen'd
‘Isaac from death. Thine arm hath oft appear'd
‘For Patriarch and Prophet, men who placed
‘Their confidence in Thee! Almighty Sire!
‘Screen me in this dark hour!’. Mid hopes and fears,
Again on earth the King reclined his head,
And, sleepless lingered till the morning light.
‘The seraphim and worm thou view'st alike!—
‘Thou seest me, Oh, Father! Thou behold'st
‘All living things! Thy power it was which screen'd
‘Isaac from death. Thine arm hath oft appear'd
‘For Patriarch and Prophet, men who placed
‘Their confidence in Thee! Almighty Sire!
‘Screen me in this dark hour!’. Mid hopes and fears,
Again on earth the King reclined his head,
And, sleepless lingered till the morning light.
| Alfred | |