University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A desolate heath near Chippenham Castle,—the wind sighing, and the roar of battle in the distance: a long pause: then a rout of flying English and pursuing Danes in the back of the stage; with afterwards a wounded white horse, royally caparisoned, and riderless, galloping across. After this a lull: and then hurriedly from opposite points, back and front, Ethelnoth and Hereward run in, with mace and sword, bloody.
Hereward
(eagerly).
Where's the King?—where's the King?—

Ethelnoth.
Alas! alas!
I much do fear me dead: his milkwhite charger,
Ever the very focus of the fight,
Fell with him o'er a heap of dead and dying,
And, madden'd by the arrows, broke away
Leaving the King afoot. I saw him stand
Surrounded by a jackal pack of Danes,
The very lion at bay; they crowded on,
But still he slew and slew, heaps upon heaps;
I strove to reach him, but could not get nigh;
For, wielding his red mace like Thor himself
Stoutly he cleft a narrow bloody lane
Right through their opposite host,—and then, as if
Fell'd by some coward caitiffs from behind,
I lost his gold-sphered head!

Hereward.
Woe worth the day!
With Alfred's death, what hope for England's life?

Ethelnoth
(despondingly).
What hope:—for Alfred is the soul of England
Of free, brave, honourable, religious England,—
That doth with an indomitable will
What Duty hath determined shall be done:
And, with him dead, alas, for England dead!
Seeing the days are evil, and her sons
Through mammon-worship and the selfishness
Of peace and quietness at any price
Are thus degenerate from old country love.
Why, friend,—our magnates, baser than their names,
To save their rank, and still upon the poor
To trample with a rich man's cruel heel,
All, save our gallant few in Somerset,
Have covertly gone over to the Dane,
Worship his Raven, call this Guthrom king,
And in their quaking crafty avarice
Pretending peace with all men, brotherhood,
And universal love,—that poppy milk
Of poisoned human kindness,—have deserted
Alfred to fight for England all alone!

Hereward.
Alone?—nay, Ethelnoth,—for some stand with him.

Ethelnoth.
We will not boast ourselves, good Hereward,
But of the nobler and the richer sort
All else have been corrupted by the Dane,
Flattered,—or frightened at his pirate fist
Clutching their moneybags,—thus to stand back
And leave our English Alfred all alone!

Hereward.
Alone?—yet are there millions with the King:
O Sir, the country's heart, the country's strength,
Her thews and muscles all are with the King,—
The People are for England and the King,—
And God with us,—then say not thou alone!

Ethelnoth.
My noble friend, forgive,—and Heaven forgive
That false and feeble word of fear, alone:
O wise and good rebuke!—my vision clears,—
Alone? I see so many now with us,
All that is honest, earnest, brave in England,
And God Himself on our side for the right,
That none but perishable evil things
Would seem to be against us. Yet, ah! dread
Unspeakable, O ruin past repair,
If English Alfred with his battleaxe
Hath hewed him out only a grave,—
[Wulf the neatherd runs in, ridiculously frightened.
—Stand back!—
Speak, sirrah,—leave thy gaping.

Wulf.
Mighty captains,
How went the battle down in Wilts? which won,
Saxon or Dane? there's plenty o' both about,
Axemen and pikemen, sword and mace and bowmen,
I'm so afeard at all o' them,—which side won?

Hereward.
Art thou for Alfred, churl?

Wulf.
Nay, mighty captain,
Art thou for Alfred? I'm—for—you, great captains,—
Is then the Saxon or the Dane my lord?

Ethelnoth.
Alfred is lord and king above thee, churl.

Wulf.
Just what yon archer told me,—to the word:
A wounded dusty relic of the fight
Now biding at my hovel: when I asked
Which side had won, and who was lord and king,—
He quoth, quoth he,—

Ethelnoth.
Stop, sirrah: lead us straight
To see this archer; he may bring perchance
Some tidings of the king: we'll to thy hovel.

[they go out.