 | Alfred |  |
SCENE III.
Alfred, Devon, Edwin.Alfred.
Hast thou ought
Of joyful to impart? or is the soul
Of England dead indeed?
10
My gracious master,
This journey has been fruitful to our wish.
Awak'd, as from the last and mortal trance,
That soul, which seem'd extinguish'd, lives again.
By me assur'd, their sovereign still survives,
Survives to take due vengeance on those robbers,
Who violate the sanctity of leagues,
The reverend seal of oaths; who basely broke,
Like midnight ruffians, on the hour of peace,
And stole a victory from men unarm'd;
Of this assur'd, your people breathe once more.
The spirit of our ancestors is up!
The spirit of the free! and, with one voice
Of happy omen, all demand their king.
Alfred.
Then, heaven who knows our wrongs will deign to guide
The virtue it inspires—My lord, how sound
These tidings in your ears?
Devon.
As the sure omen
Of better fate, my heart receives and hails them.
For know, my liege, the fury of those Danes,
This last dire scene of total desolation,
Will kindle up the flame to seven-fold fierceness;
New-wing each shaft, edge every lifted sword,
And drive—
11
A moment—Edwin, yet inform me
What numbers have you gather'd? how dispos'd,
Where posted them?
Edwin.
In these surrounding woods,
Soon as the shade of night descends to veil them,
A generous few, the veteran hardy gleanings
Of many a well-fought field, all at one hour,
Behind the rushy brook from hence due east,
By different paths, and in small parties meet,
Accoutred at all points: and, as I judge,
Their numbers count twelve hundred.
Alfred.
Ha! twelve hundred—
Incredible—soft—let me duly weigh
What I, unhoping, scarce believing, hear.
Something must, now, be done—Ay, that attempt
Is great—but greatly hazardous—why then,
Necessity, our just plea, must excuse
The desperate daring her hard law imposes.
Hear, my brave friends. One castle still is ours,
Tho close begirt and shaken by the Danes.
Devon, speed thither: find out that close path,
By Edwin's eye and aid, which from the midst,
The central point of Kinwith-forest winds
In deep descent; and, under ground prolong'd,
Safe in the fortress ends.
12
Suppose me there:
What follows this, my lord?
Alfred.
Be it your part
To animate our brothers of the war,
Those Englishmen, who yet deserve that name.
The foe—dwell much on this—by our known weakness
Made daring and secure, will now the rein
Of discipline relax, and to loose revel
Indulge the midnight hour. Therefore, at three—
O count the clock with more than lovers' vigilance—
At three, that chosen band shall from behind,
Rising at once, with Alfred at their head,
Assail the hostile camp: while your warm sally,
That very moment, pours upon it's front.
Hence: and success be thine.
Devon.
On this our purpose,
The sacred cause of liberty and vengeance,
Smile, righteous heaven!
Alfred.
O urge it home, my friend,
That each man's sword now wears upon it's point
The present age, and last posterity!
Farewell. Edwin, within the hour return,
And find me here.
| Alfred | |