University of Virginia Library

V.

“Who is the Chief, whose praises thus you press,
And whom, in truth, I value hardly less?”
I asked the question, but I vainly asked.
A moment's space he mused. At length, “I tasked
My brain, and risked my life,” he gravely said,
“In thy escape to lend my humble aid—
Partly because I knew thou art a Dane,
But more, and chiefly, that, in yonder fane,
You snatched my Bertha from the flames away:
For this I serve thee, but not him betray!
And if you knowledge of the Chief would seek,
Eric, be sure, can neither hear nor speak.
Talk we on other theme. The time flies on.
I judge young Hengist must be here anon.”
“Young Hengist? But it may, perhaps, offend
To ask who he is,” No—a faithful friend,
Bound to thy interest by as strong a tie
As warm and pure affection can supply.”
“What meanest thou?” “My daughter Hengist loves,”
He answered. “Still, his suit she disapproves.
But when of thy achieved escape from foes,
And of her lover's part therein, she knows—
He hopes to win, denied to him erewhile,
His valued meed in her assenting smile.
Now I will tell thee all! On Beaumont Side,
While men, that morn, arrayed thee for the ride,
Bertha drew him and me apart. She told
To us the story of thy daring bold,
In a few hurried words; her fears confessed
For the dark future of thy fate; impressed
On us thy rescue, as a sacred thing,
Holier than duty or to Chief or King,—
But hark! he comes.” Just then a rustling, made
By some one bursting through the hazel shade,
Announced the youthful friend of whom he spoke;
And Saxon Hengist on our converse broke.