University of Virginia Library

VII.

The sullen mood, the dark and savage pride,
Which had all form of reverence denied,
At once gave way. Respect, esteem sincere,
And certain recollections, did what fear
Could never have achieved. I flew to bend
Before my Victor, and to hail him friend;
Though I had reason, as you now must know,
For doubting if I still should find him so.
But Alfred saw, and, starting from his seat,
Came forth—as if an honoured guest to greet;
My act of cordial homage stayed, and took
My hand with warmest grasp, and kindest look.
“I thank my God!” with emphasis he said,
“That thou, my friend! hast 'scaped the Saxon blade;
And that brave Guthrum—this, I know is he!—
Survives it too, my other friend to be.
All we of late discoursed of—I and thou—
The righteous hand of Heaven hath altered now;
Hath left me free a Monarch's power to use,
Gently or sternly, as myself may choose;
And doubtless, thy escape's implied distrust,
Or worse, might seem to render sternness just.
But spoken word, whatever may befall,
A King of England never must recall!
Vanquished, to thee I offer made, and will,
As Victor, trust me, every part fulfil,
On the conditions which we named.—Meantime,
Not to arrest pursuit, were deepst erime!
Ho! Kenric, Cerdic! haste ye both away!
A white flag in the sight of all display,
And let the heralds, in our royal name,
A truce, an instantaneous truce proclaim!”