 | Alfred |  |
SCENE V.
Danes passing along.First Dane.
No more. 'Twas she: I could not be deceiv'd.
A lover's eye is as the eagle's sharp,
And kens his prey from far—But lift a while,
If sound of human voice, or bleat of flocks
May guide our lost enquiry thro this wild.
Second Dane.
No: all is loneliness around, and hush'd
As our dead northern wastes at midnight hour.
Our gods protect us! Prince, it was most rash,
So few our numbers, at this close of day
Headlong to plunge and amid these horrid shades,
Where danger lurks unseen.
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How! know'st thou not
That England is no more? Her sons of war,
To dens and caverns fled, like fearful hares
Sit trembling at each blast the chill wind blows.
Her king himself or sleeps in dust, or roams
Wild on the pathless mountain. As for me;
Our country gods, those spirits that possess
The boundless wilderness, that love to dwell
With dreary solitude and night profound,
Will guard the son of Ivar, to whose house
Their vassalage is bound by magic spell.
Come on. She must be found, this unknown fair
Who fir'd me at first view; and rages still
A fever in my youthful blood. Away.
| Alfred | |