ALFRED. About 890. BEHOLD a pupil of the monkish gown!1 The pious Alfred, king to justice dear, Lord of the harp and liberating spear; Mirror of princes! Indigent renown2 Might range the starry ether3 for a crown Equal to his deserts, who like the year Pours forth his bounty, like the day doth cheer, And awes the night with mercy-temper'd frown; Ease from this noble miser of his time No moment steals; pain narrows not his cares. Though small his kingdom, as a spark or gem, Of Alfred hears remote Jerusalem', 8 And Christian India, through her wide-spread clime, In sacred converse, gifts with Alfred shares. WORDSWORTH. 1 His tutor was St. Swithun, a monk, afterwards Bishop of Winchester. 2 Fame in want of some one to celebrate. 3 The air, here meaning the firmament. 4 What he deserves. 5 Hoarding up time. "He never passed a day without suffering. 7 He sent offerings to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 8 Alfred sent messages and gifts to the Christian Church of St. Thomas, in Malabar. DEATH OF EDWIN THE FAIR. 958 or 959. Edwin had married Elgiva. Archbishop Odo and Dunstan, then Abbot of Glastonbury, endeavoured to separate them because they were nearer of kin than those the Church permitted to wed. A war ensued, in which Elgiva was made prisoner, and died of the cruel treatment she suffered. Edwin, who had been badly wounded, became delirious, tore off his bandages and died. In the scene that follows, Elgiva's corpse is lying on a bier about to be buried. DUNSTAN. What corse is this? A MONK. The Queen's,' my lord, awaiting burial. DUNSTAN. Hers ? Withdraw the winding-sheet, that once again Seems more than in another! Where be now 1 Properly speaking the Saxon kings' wives were not called queens, but ladies. I would have will'd thee to repent and live, Of deaths eternal, and a nation's lapse To mortal sin. Nor sin nor sorrow now Hath power upon thee; nor canst thou, fair mask,1 Be ever more their minister. Enter ATTENDANT. 1 My lord, The king, so please you DUNSTAN. What sir, of the king? ATTENDANT. He is again delirious, and hath torn The bandage from his wound; he bleeds amain. Enter another ATTENDANT. My lord, the king! the king! DUNSTAN. What, comes he hither? Enter EDWIN, followed by a physician. Where art thou, my beloved? Come to me; He calls Elgiva's face a mask. Thou are not here, for if thou wast I know Thou'dst fly to meet me. Ha! I see thee now And yet thou movest not. What! in chains again? Not so, Elgiva; thou art free, my love, I smote them with the sword. Oh! come to me! He asked us if the queen were buried yet, DUNSTAN. See! EDWIN. Thy hand is very cold. Come, come, look up, Hast not a word to say to so much love? What's here? Well, as thou wilt-but 'twas not always thus, PHYSICIAN. Draw him from the corpse. The loss of blood that drains the fever off EDWIN. But hark! An angel's song! 'Tis Dunstan that I see- [Dies. SIR HENRY TAYLOR. |