"Wherefore I am a great king, And waste the world in vain, Because man hath not other power, Save that in dealing death for dower, He may forget it for an hour To remember it again."And slowly his hands and thoughtfully Fell from the lifted lyre, And the owls moaned from the mighty trees Till Alfred caught it to his knees And smote it as in ire.
He heaved the head of the harp on high And swept the framework barred, And his stroke had all the rattle and spark Of horses flying hard.
"When God put man in a garden He girt him with a sword, And sent him forth a free knight That might betray his lord;"He brake Him and betrayed Him, And fast and far he fell, Till you and I may stretch our necks And burn our beards in hell.
"But though I lie on the floor of the world, With the seven sins for rods, I would rather fall with Adam Than rise with all your gods.
"What have the strong gods given?
Where have the glad gods led?
When Guthrum sits on a hero's throne And asks if he is dead?
"Sirs, I am but a nameless man, A rhymester without home, Yet since I come of the Wessex clay And carry the cross of Rome, "I will even answer the mighty earl That asked of Wessex men Why they be meek and monkish folk, And bow to the White Lord's broken yoke;What sign have we save blood and smoke?
Here is my answer then.
"That on you is fallen the shadow, And not upon the Name;That though we scatter and though we fly, And you hang over us like the sky, You are more tired of victory, Than we are tired of shame.
"That though you hunt the Christian man Like a hare on the hill-side, The hare has still more heart to run Than you have heart to ride.
"That though all lances split on you, All swords be heaved in vain, We have more lust again to lose Than you to win again.
"Your lord sits high in the saddle, A broken-hearted king, But our king Alfred, lost from fame, Fallen among foes or bonds of shame, In I know not what mean trade or name, Has still some song to sing;"Our monks go robed in rain and snow, But the heart of flame therein, But you go clothed in feasts and flames, When all is ice within;"Nor shall all iron dooms make dumb Men wondering ceaselessly, If it be not better to fast for joy Than feast for misery.
"Nor monkish order only Slides down, as field to fen, All things achieved and chosen pass, As the White Horse fades in the grass, No work of Christian men.
"Ere the sad gods that made your gods Saw their sad sunrise pass, The White Horse of the White Horse Vale, That you have left to darken and fail, Was cut out of the grass.
"Therefore your end is on you, Is on you and your kings, Not for a fire in Ely fen, Not that your gods are nine or ten, But because it is only Christian men Guard even heathen things.
"For our God hath blessed creation, Calling it good. I know What spirit with whom you blindly band Hath blessed destruction with his hand;Yet by God's death the stars shall stand And the small apples grow."And the King, with harp on shoulder, Stood up and ceased his song;And the owls moaned from the mighty trees, And the Danes laughed loud and long.
BOOK IV
THE WOMAN IN THE FOREST
Thick thunder of the snorting swine, Enormous in the gloam, Rending among all roots that cling, And the wild horses whinnying, Were the night's noises when the King Shouldering his harp, went home.
With eyes of owl and feet of fox, Full of all thoughts he went;He marked the tilt of the pagan camp, The paling of pine, the sentries' tramp, And the one great stolen altar-lamp Over Guthrum in his tent.
By scrub and thorn in Ethandune That night the foe had lain;Whence ran across the heather grey The old stones of a Roman way;And in a wood not far away The pale road split in twain.
He marked the wood and the cloven ways With an old captain's eyes, And he thought how many a time had he Sought to see Doom he could not see;How ruin had come and victory, And both were a surprise.
Even so he had watched and wondered Under Ashdown from the plains;With Ethelred praying in his tent, Till the white hawthorn swung and bent, As Alfred rushed his spears and rent The shield-wall of the Danes.
Even so he had watched and wondered, Knowing neither less nor more, Till all his lords lay dying, And axes on axes plying, Flung him, and drove him flying Like a pirate to the shore.
Wise he had been before defeat, And wise before success;Wise in both hours and ignorant, Knowing neither more nor less.
As he went down to the river-hut He knew a night-shade scent, Owls did as evil cherubs rise, With little wings and lantern eyes, As though he sank through the under-skies;But down and down he went.
As he went down to the river-hut He went as one that fell;Seeing the high forest domes and spars.
Dim green or torn with golden scars, As the proud look up at the evil stars, In the red heavens of hell.
For he must meet by the river-hut Them he had bidden to arm, Mark from the towers of Italy, And Colan of the Sacred Tree, And Eldred who beside the sea Held heavily his farm.
The roof leaned gaping to the grass, As a monstrous mushroom lies;Echoing and empty seemed the place;
But opened in a little space A great grey woman with scarred face And strong and humbled eyes.
King Alfred was but a meagre man, Bright eyed, but lean and pale:
And swordless, with his harp and rags, He seemed a beggar, such as lags Looking for crusts and ale.
And the woman, with a woman's eyes Of pity at once and ire, Said, when that she had glared a span, "There is a cake for any man If he will watch the fire."And Alfred, bowing heavily, Sat down the fire to stir, And even as the woman pitied him So did he pity her.
Saying, "O great heart in the night, O best cast forth for worst, Twilight shall melt and morning stir, And no kind thing shall come to her, Till God shall turn the world over And all the last are first.
"And well may God with the serving-folk Cast in His dreadful lot;Is not He too a servant, And is not He forgot ?
"For was not God my gardener And silent like a slave;That opened oaks on the uplands Or thicket in graveyard gave?
"And was not God my armourer, All patient and unpaid, That sealed my skull as a helmet, And ribs for hauberk made?
