 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
XVI.
And now, in turn, the Saxon Minstrel rose—A man of age he seemed, a man of woes;
But soon as e'er his magic harp struck he,
Age turned to youth, and woe itself to glee!
At least, as Guthrum whispered, such his wont;
But Thought sat now upon the Old Man's front—
Deep Thought and Sadness. Ere a note he sung,
His simple harp the Minstrel softly rung,
Then wakened, as a prelude, low yet strong,
A something hovering between speech and song.
377
Prelude.
“Ill fares it with the Saxon bard,Who loves his country now,
He wears her fetter on his soul,
Her shame upon his brow!
Her much-loved King a fugitive,
Her bravest warriors slain,
While o'er the land, triumphant, soars
The Raven of the Dane!
Such bard, among his Country's foes,
Must veil her wrongs, suppress his woes,
Stifle each patriot thought as crime,
And frame a lay to suit the time.
Yet Guthrum hath a soul! and can
Forgive a Minstrel and a Man,
Who fain would, as he may, prolong
The high conceit of Anlave's song,
But fears to wake, 'mid weapons sharp,
The strain that hovers round his harp.”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |