University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A narrow strip of country: enter stragglingly from both sides a multitude of the English, variously armed, as to a rendezvous and bivouac; they lie down in picturesque groups and talk and eat together: then one speaks to his mates.
First Soldier.
Ay, if our great ones only trusted England
And weren't so jealous of us, so suspicious,
We had been round five-hundred-thousand good
And not this poor five hundred.

Second.
We're enow!
King Alfred well may reckon for a million.

Third.
Nay, but it's bitter grief and burning shame
They held us back, and would not let muster,
And kept the arsenals close,—when willing hands
Good able hands with stout hearts at their root,—
Had swept off clean this seascum of invaders!

First Soldier.
Our great ones (how unlike the King himself,—
He wears a heart!) are all too grand, too cold,
Too wrapt in phrases and in courtesies,
Too hand-in-hand with other foreign great ones,
Too deep in pleasures, or in politics,
To feel for England's wrongs, or fear her peril.
They muster troops,—we paying for their levy,—
All to protect themselves, and tread us down;
And lest our indignation should break loose
Against their shameful truckling to the foe
They snub our patriot zeal, keep us disarmed,
And give us over to the wolf like sheep!
But look,—the King!

[they get up quickly and range themselves: Alfred enters, armed, with Ethelnoth and Hereward.
Alfred.
God bless you, my five hundred!
I come to thank you in His name, and England's!
I come to lead you on to certain victory,
To help you win your rights, and quench your wrongs,
Conquering Liberty once more for England!
O friends, O countrymen, my band of heroes,
We now go forth, prepared and resolute men,
Assured of one thing,—we must,—we will conquer!


(they shout)
We will, we will, God save the good King Alfred!

Alfred.
Yet, mark me: all must steadily obey,
Each at his post. Ethelnoth,—Hereward,—
That these my brave intelligent Englishmen
May work our plan, they all must comprehend it:
Confidence in my people is my generalship.
Listen, good men; more gladly then obey.
The Dane, some eight miles off, at Ethandune,
Revels in gluttonous security,
And all is heedless license in the camp.
The full moon rises two hours after midnight
And in the dead of dark, their drunken sleep,
We will surround, surprise, and overwhelm them.
Hereward, tell our men by fifties off,
Ten companies: ye know your country, mates,—

Voices.
Ay, ay, every track and byeway: every inch of it.

Alfred.
In single file wind through the devious woods,
Avoiding villages,—and flanked by scouts.
Each company, elect its separate leader,
To follow and obey him, and keep silence.
Now, Ethelnoth, take first your chosen fifty,
Sweep widely to the north, and reach the camp
Eastwardly just at midnight. Hereward,
Take thou an opposite track through the morass,
And just at midnight touch the camp full south.
These other fifties, each at interval,
Close north and west and every point between:
And I, standing here last, will be there first
To attack the nearest foe. Thus well arrived
By steady combination silently,—
Let all be hushed in eager readiness,
Until ye hear my bugle; then with shouts
“Alfred and England,” fly upon the foe!
[the bands march out, and as the last company is filing off they stop,—while Alfred prays, standing,
O God of Christian England, hear her King:
Spare, spare thy People, thine inheritance:
Let not the heathen have his wicked will,—
But help the righteous cause. Amen. Amen.

[and so they go out; and the scene slowly changes, all the stage being dark.