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ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
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ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 ALFRED AUSTIN 
 
 POET LAUREATE 
 
 A.D. 878. This year the Danish Army rode over the 
 land of the West Saxons, where they settled, and drove 
 many of the people over the sea ; and, of the rest, the 
 greatest part they rode down, and subdued to their will. 
 All but Alfred the King. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 
 
 G6nie composite, ^ la fois pratique et passionn6, 
 Alfred futunvrai Anglais. j^sserand. 
 
 SAN ■••-.: 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND LONDON 
 1896 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 % 
 
 - f- 
 

 Copyright, 1896, 
 By MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 Norfeoott IPresg 
 
 J. S. Cushing & Co. - Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 
 
TO 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 ALEXANDRA, PRINCESS OF WALES 
 
 DAUGHTER OF VANISHED VIKINGS 
 
 AND 
 
 MOTHER OF ENGLISH KINGS TO BE 
 
 I RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE 
 
 WITH HER GRACIOUS PERMISSION 
 
 THIS INADEQUATE RECORD 
 
 OF 
 
 THE GREATEST OF ENGLISHMEN 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In the spacious gallery of commanding characters 
 commemorated in English Poetry, there is a strange 
 and unaccountable blank. Where we look for the 
 most illustrious figure of all, there is an empty niche. 
 The greatest of Englishmen has never been celebrated 
 by an English poet. Though it still be true of our 
 race, as of those concerning whom Tacitus wrote, 
 "Celebrant carminibus antiquis quod unum apud 
 illos memorise et annalium genus est," no EngUsh- 
 man has sung of Alfred the Great. Extolled by a 
 succession of prose historians, by Asser, by Ethelwerd, 
 by Florence of Worcester, by William of Malmesbury, 
 and deeply rooted in the affections of his countrymen 
 by an unbroken tradition, which, for a thousand years, 
 has designated him "England's Darling," Alfred is 
 forgotten by Chaucer, all but ignored by Spenser, 
 unnamed by Shakespeare, and but fortuitously alluded 
 
viii ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 to by the most eminent of their successors. Shake- 
 speare indeed, though bequeathing us in Lear and 
 Cymbeline two Celtic dramas, has no Saxon hero, no 
 Saxon theme. Tributes to the genius, the virtue, the 
 fortitude, of Alfred abound in the prose writings, not 
 of Englishmen alone, but of annalists and moralists 
 writing in foreign tongues. " Ille inter fremitus ar- 
 morum et stridores lituorum leges tuht," sa3's WiUiam 
 of Malmesbury in a sentence of singular strength, in 
 which the glory of battle and the dignity of jurispru- 
 dence are harmoniously associated. In his Outlines 
 of the History of the World, one of his earlier re- 
 searches which are insufficiently known to the present 
 generation, Gibbon thus expresses himself concerning 
 Alfred : " Amidst the deepest gloom of barbarism, 
 the virtue of Antoninus, the learning and valour of 
 Caesar, and the legislative genius of Lycurgus, shine 
 forth united in that patriot King. Several of his insti- 
 tutions have survived the Norman Conquest, and con- 
 tributed to form the English Constitution." Hume, 
 little given to enthusiasm, and never betrayed into 
 exaggeration, asserts that " this Prince, by his great 
 virtues and shining talents, saved his country from 
 utter ruin and subversion." Burke concludes a stately 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 panegyric with this compendious verdict : " In a 
 word, Alfred comprehended, in the greatness of his 
 mind, the whole of government and all its parts at 
 once ; and, what is most difficult to human frailty, 
 was at the same time sublime and minute." Voltaire, 
 to whose mocking wit not even the maiden deliverer 
 of his own country was sacred, mingles no sneer with 
 his homage to Alfred. " Je ne sais," he writes, " s'il 
 y a jamais eu sur la terre un homme plus digne des 
 respects de la posterity qu'Alfred le Grand." Mira- 
 beau draws a parallel between Alfred and Charle- 
 magne, and assigns the palm for greatness to the 
 former. Herder, in his outlines of A Philosophy of a 
 History of Maji, pronounces a similar verdict. " A 
 pattern for Kings in times of extremity, a bright star 
 in the history of mankind, living a century after 
 Charlemagne, he was perhaps a greater man in a 
 circle more limited." Shakespeare affirms 
 
 . . . We are not ourselves 
 When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 
 To suffer with the body. 
 
 But Alfred rose as superior to fleshly ailment as to 
 the inertness of his subjects and the ferocity of his 
 foes. Later historians have but repeated the conclu- 
 
X ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 sion of their predecessors ; nor has searching modem 
 scholarship removed from Alfred's brow a single leaf 
 of the fivefold laurel of King, Soldier, Poet, Lawgiver, 
 and Saint, that has for ten hundred years encircled it. 
 Strange therefore is it that Alfred hitherto has 
 been glorified in no English poem. But the omis- 
 sion seems stranger still ;when we observe that, by 
 his birth, his character, and his exploits, he is the 
 one EngHshman pre-eminently fitted to be a National 
 Hero. The person elevated by instinctive selection 
 to that commanding position must have existed, yet 
 should loom, in outlines imposingly vague, through 
 the mist of receding centuries. He must be, at one 
 and the same time, historical and mythical. Arthur 
 is too exclusively the one. The greatest of our 
 Edwards and our Harrys are too clearly the other. 
 Who will warrant the existence of Arthur more than 
 of Brute or of Merhn? The Flos Regum of Bardic 
 story has not flesh-and-blood enough to enforce full 
 homage from our imagination. Moreover, Arthur is 
 a Celtic, not a Saxon Prince ; and the tactful genius 
 of an exquisite poet has abstained from enduing him 
 with more than a hmited number of somewhat negative 
 virtaes. Cressy, Poitiers, and Agincourt, are names 
 
PREFACE xi 
 
 never to be forgotten. But more than one reproach 
 adheres to the memory of Edward the Third, the 
 sunset of his brilHant Reign having been darkened, 
 not only by pubhc misfortune, but by the maUgn 
 influence of a grasping mistress and unpopular 
 favourites ; while Shakespeare has stamped on our 
 minds an ineradicable recollection of the youthful 
 levities of Henry the Fifth. But Alfred has neither 
 stigma nor stain. A ruler without arrogance, a soldier 
 without personal ambition, a lawgiver devoid of 
 pedantry, a poet free from vanity, a saint untainted 
 by fanaticism, Alfred laid the foundation, in days of 
 distracting trouble, of our society, our language, and 
 our naval power. The records of him may be scanty, 
 but they suffice ; and he towers before us, actual if 
 indefinite. While he is placed, thanks to the histo- 
 rian, on a solid and visible pedestal, around his head 
 shimmers the magnifying halo of tradition. By 
 affectionate fable he is apotheosised above ordinary 
 humanity. But the qualities that at times seem 
 distantly divine, leave him still invested with the 
 familiar and winning attributes of man. 
 
 But if Alfred be thus qualified, alike by our knowl- 
 edge and by our ignorance, to figure as the Hero of 
 
xu ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 a Nation, his credentials become still more conclusive, 
 when we note what is the nation he typifies and 
 represents. Englishmen have never conceded un- 
 qualified admiration save to those who combined 
 with intellectual distinction the crowning grace of 
 moral worth. A Louis the Eleventh, a Henri Quatre, 
 a Louis the Fourteenth, a Voltaire, a Rousseau, a 
 Mirabeau, would never have secured the unreserved 
 homage of English sentiment. We forgive much to 
 patriotism, we condone much in genius; but we 
 accept no one as absolute monarch of our affections 
 whose record is not clean. Our Ideal, it must be 
 owned, is lofty and exacting; for we claim for our 
 Hero a combination of qualities that blend with 
 difficulty, and which in common estimate are deemed 
 almost contradictory. Yet we find them in Alfred; 
 it may be added, in Alfred alone. An obedient son 
 to a father of unstable judgment and faltering virtue ; 
 a deferential brother to a Prince glaringly his inferior ; 
 a Ruler masculinely just yet femininely tender, Alfred 
 moved between the realm of thought and the domain 
 of action with alert but infallible footsteps ; ordering 
 his days and distributing his faculties with discrimi- 
 nating concern between the harmonious development 
 
PREFACE xiii 
 
 of his own nature and the immediate rescue of the 
 State. He cherished the companionship of scholars, 
 but was never subjected to their sway ; and his 
 thoughtful devotion to the Church was wisely tempered 
 by a steadfast vindication of what is due to Caesar. 
 He had the very talents, and the very character, 
 that Englishmen admire : an imagination at once 
 speculative and practical, with feet firmly planted 
 on the earth, yet with forehead questioning the sky ; 
 a virile love of country, an unwearied appetite for 
 work, innate reverence for law, attachment to family 
 and home, a grave responsiveness to duty, high-bred 
 modesty, the determination not to be overcome, and 
 an utter absence of pretension. Well may English- 
 men revere these qualities in Alfred ; for, while they 
 constitute him their ideal and their darUng, they are 
 the qualities which founded, and which can alone 
 maintain, the EngHsh Empire. 
 
 For himself, the author cannot remember the 
 time when Alfred was not the hero of his affec- 
 tions. Alfred's name, and the tales that clustered 
 round it, formed the most enthralling pages of 
 nursery erudition; and the fond partiality of child- 
 hood was sanctioned by study, and confirmed by 
 
xiv ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 life. Wantage and Athelney became sacred names. 
 When first he stood in the Roman Forum, where 
 the buffaloes then took their noonday siesta in the 
 recumbent shafts of Sabine wine-carts, he used to 
 wonder how it looked when Alfred, sent to the 
 Eternal City by his father " with an honourable 
 escort," was anointed future King, and adopted as 
 spiritual son, by Leo the Fourth; and he remem- 
 bered how, when Alfred had justified Leo's spiritual 
 insight. Pope Martin, out of regard for the King's 
 great deeds and spotless character, freed the school 
 of the Anglo-Saxons in Rome from all tax and 
 tribute. Over and over again, in later years, when 
 traversing those tracts of our native land which the 
 most vividly recall his heroism, his wisdom, and 
 his triumph, I found myself exclaiming, " If one 
 could but write of Alfred ! " A visit to Edington 
 — the Saxon Ethandune — one mellow November 
 afternoon, gave fresh stimulus to the longing, and 
 finally generated the production of this work. 
 Would it were worthier ! But, to cite words of 
 Alfred's own, " Do not blame me ; for every man 
 must say what he says, and do what he does, 
 according to his ability." 
 
PREFACE XV 
 
 Meagre, comparatively, as are the memorials, 
 whether authentic or disputable, of the second half 
 of the ninth century respecting our Island, they are 
 not so scanty as is commonly affirmed. I was as- 
 tonished, in my search for any scrap of fact or 
 fable that by suggestiveness might aid my purpose, 
 to find the materials so ample. For every incident 
 in the following poem there is a foundation, how- 
 ever slight, in written record or in oral hearsay, not 
 only concerning Alfred himself, but equally as regards 
 his brilHant son. Alfred reigned for three-and-twenty 
 winters after the victory of Ethandune and Chippen- 
 ham ; but, since the close of his days was, happily, 
 not tragic, the action of the poem ceases at a moment 
 dramatically more conclusive. It was only by Will 
 that Alfred bequeathed to his wife the Manors of 
 Wantage and Athelney, and by the same instrument 
 that he manumitted his serfs.^ But I have not 
 hesitated to antedate those and other incidents of his 
 
 1 What a delight it would have been to the studious King, 
 could he have read, in a fragment of Hellanicus, how the slaves 
 that had fought on the Athenian side at Arginusse were manu- 
 mitted, and enrolled among the Platseans. Toi>s a-vvvavfMax'n- 
 ffapras dovXovi 'EXKolvikSs (}>i]cnv eXevdepddrjvai, Kal iyypa(pii'Ta5 
 us nXaratets (rvfiTToXiTeOeffOai avTois. 
 
xvi ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 Rule, and, in a word, to compress into a period of a 
 few weeks the most striking events of a lifetime. It 
 is an interesting, and surely an auspicious, coincidence 
 that the present Heir to the English Throne, like 
 the Atheling in Alfred's Reign, bears the name of 
 Edward, and again, like his mighty namesake, has 
 for Consort a lovely Dane. 
 
 "Alfred, Edward, and such proper names," says 
 the learned Wright, "have become part of our lan- 
 guage. There can be no doubt that Anglo-Saxons 
 would have written them Alfred, Eadweard; but 
 there is no more reason for our printing them so 
 in a modern English book, than there would be for 
 our printing cefter for after, or eall for ^//." So also 
 it seems to me ; and, if use is here made of the Saxon 
 " Ealdorman," it is because the modern form of that 
 word would have suggested misleading associations. 
 
 The Enghsh language, as it now exists, is indebted 
 for its volume and variety to many tributaries; and 
 we owe it to our mother- tongue not to allow it to 
 be impoverished by gratuitous prejudice against any 
 one of its sources. The attempt to exalt the Saxon 
 over the Latin elements of our language can never be 
 more than an exhibition of philological pedantry. But 
 
PREFACE xvii 
 
 one perforce felt that, in portraying a period anterior 
 to the days when the Latin and Romance Hteratures 
 gradually enriched the vocabulary of Beowulf, one was 
 bound to eschew, as far as might be, glaring anach- 
 ronisms of speech. Hence, save occasionally in the 
 mouth of Alfred himself, and of the scholarly ecclesi- 
 astics he summoned to his side, the language used by 
 the characters in England's Darling is mainly if not 
 exclusively Saxon in its origin — the natural utterance 
 of English men and women living in the ninth century 
 of our Era. 
 
 A thousand years ago ! If one turns to the 
 Saxon Chronicle, one may read, at that date : " Then 
 King Alfred gave orders for building long ships 
 against the esks, which were full nigh twice as long 
 as the others. Some had sixty oars, some more, and 
 they were both swifter and steadier, and also higher 
 than the others." The Chronicle goes on to tell how 
 the King commanded his men to go out against the 
 enemy with nine of the nev/ ships, and prevent escape 
 to the outer sea; and how they took two of the 
 Danish esks, drove others ashore, and crippled the 
 rest. Thus Swanage was the precursor of Trafalgar. 
 A thousand years ago ! What a splendid, what an 
 
xviii ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 animating anniversary ! And should the genius of 
 
 Alfred continue to inspire his race, why should we 
 
 hesitate to believe that, a thousand years forward 
 
 from to-day, his name will still be honoured, and 
 
 the Sceptre he saved be still upheld, by a romantic, 
 
 resolute, and invincible People ? 
 
 A. A. 
 
PERSONAGES 
 
 Alfred 
 Edward 
 
 Plegmund 
 
 Werefrith 
 
 Ethelred 
 
 Ethelnoth . 
 Ethelswitha 
 Ethelfrida 
 
 Edgiva 
 
 Surnamed the Great. 
 
 His Son. 
 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 Bishop of Worcester. 
 
 Alfred's Son-in-law {afterwards 
 
 Ealdorman of Mercia). 
 Ealdorman of Somerset. 
 Alfred's Wife. 
 His Daughter {married to 
 
 Ethelred'). 
 A Danish Maiden. 
 
 Tkanes, Ealdormen, Freemen, Serfs, etc. 
 
 Place 
 Athelney — Selwood — Ethandune. 
 
 Time— A.D. 878. 
 
 XIX 
 
ACT I 
 
ACT I 
 
 SCENE I 
 
 [The Saxon Fastness in Athelney.] 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 Know you the tidings? 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 No, nor crave to hear, 
 In these ill days. 
 
 WEREFRITH 
 
 Withal, to know the worst 
 Is the one way whereby to better it. 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 Out with it then ! 
 
 3 
 
4 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 Buhred hath fled the land 
 By him for two-and-twenty winters swayed, 
 Fled oversea, a runaway to Rome, 
 And in the seat of Mercia Ceowulf rules. 
 Rules, did I say ? Nay, grovels at the nod 
 Of Guthrum who, forsworn, upholds him there, 
 A Saxon thane, withal a Danish serf. 
 Where Alfred's sister sate below her lord, 
 Helping him rule. 
 
 ETHELRED 
 
 And she? 
 
 WEREWULF 
 
 Held fast the ground, 
 With a firm few, against the heathen horde, 
 Egbert's true grandchild, long as Hving force 
 Could break the onset, but at length withdrew, 
 And, backward-wending pilgrims say, was seen 
 Treading the streets of Pavia all alone. 
 Seeking her lord. 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 5 
 
 WEREFRITH 
 
 From far Northumbria 
 Blow news as luckless. Breaking up his camp, 
 That by the Tyne had wintered, Halfdene bursts 
 Over the land, and, ravaging it, rides 
 Right to the march and border of the Picts. 
 Among his thanes he parcels out the soil. 
 And the long-haired Northumbrian freemen makes 
 Harrowers and ploughers to their conquerors, 
 CUpped to the nape. 
 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 Aye, and fouler still, 
 Hingvar and Hubba, since King Edmund slain, . 
 Lashed to a trunk and arrow-shot to death. 
 Ride through East Anglia rifling shrine and cell, 
 Ely and Croyland, Bardeney, Peterborough, 
 Breaking and burning, and at very Mass 
 Wrenching the chalice from the hand of God, 
 And tearing from the abbot's tonsured brow 
 Alb, stole, and chasuble. Nor this the worst, 
 Where worse awaits. From virgins vowed to Heaven, 
 Virgins as white as is the Yuletide snow, 
 
6 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 They strip the veil ; who straightway die of shame, 
 Or, dreader doom, dwell penned within the sty 
 Of wallowing sea-swine. 
 
 ETHELRED 
 
 The outlandish dogs, 
 Uprooting Egbert's England, and afresh 
 Untwisting what he bound, and to their will 
 Enserfing all 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 Nay, Ethelred, not all ! 
 All but Alfred the King ! 
 
 ethelred 
 Pray Heaven he lives ! But, while he roams abroad, 
 Now in this cloak, now that, swordless, alone, 
 Spying the where and whither of his foes, 
 I still must lie with fear for bedfellow. 
 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 Nay, sign the cross upon your brow and sleep. 
 Since by Pope Leo he was hallowed King, 
 Heaven keeps a watch upon his chosen head. 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING ^ 7 
 
 ETHELRED 
 
 May you rede rightly, Plegmund ! And belike 
 
 Is mother-wit a sort of Providence, 
 
 Whereof is Alfred's brain as stocked as though 
 
 It nothing housed beside ; for commonly — 
 
 Forgive me, good Archbishop ! — learning blunts 
 
 The native shrewdness of the mind. In him 
 
 Are layman sense and cleric wisdom twin ; 
 
 And though his brain is swayed by thought, his hand 
 
 Keeps just as steady on the hilt as though 
 
 He knew no more than I or Ethelnoth. 
 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 God bless your simpleness ! So long as men 
 Know how like you to strike for Mother-land, 
 By the rood ! they are wise enough. 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 O true Archbishop ! 
 May England never lack anointed lips, 
 Like these, to preach Christ's gospel manfully ! 
 
ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 SCENE II 
 
 [A clearing in the forest. Edward, sitting on some faggot- 
 wood, is stringing together bluebells and primroses which 
 he has just gathered. A misselthrush is singing overhead.] 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Sing, throstle, sing, 
 
 On the hornbeam bough; 
 But tell not the King 
 
 Of a maiden's vow. 
 When the heart is ripe, 
 
 Then the days are fleet: 
 Pipe, throstle, pipe I 
 
 Sweet I sweet I sweet I 
 
 If but the best of us could sing like thee ! 
 
 But even Adhelm lacks the craft to reach 
 
 Thy untaught silvery syllables of song, 
 
 Wild gleeman of the woods ! In all the world 
 
 There lives no sound to match thy minstrelsy, 
 
 Saving her voice ; and that, though heavenlier still, 
 
 Alack ! is seldom heard. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND^S DARLING 9 
 
 Flute, tlu'ostle, flute , 
 
 To my lagging dear. 
 And never be mute 
 
 Till she hie to hear. 
 Now that the Spring 
 
 And the Summer meet, 
 Sing, throstle, sing! 
 
 Sweet I sweet I sweet I 
 
 [He hears a rustling in the leaves, and bounds to his feet.] 
 
 She comes ! But no, it is a tattered churl, 
 That through the tangle of these troubled times 
 Seeks for an outlet to his wretchedness. 
 Yet, better not be seen : Love's hide-and-seek 
 Wants no onlookers. 
 
 [He swings himself on to a bough, and swarms the tree. Alfred, 
 disguised as a vagrant, passes underneath, pausing an in- 
 stant, and taking up the flowers that are lying on the 
 ground.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Children, or lovers, must have passed this way, 
 Or lovers therefore children ; for the twain 
 Have this in common, that they lightly cull 
 
lo ENGLAND'S DARLING act I 
 
 The sweets of nature, but to throw away 
 And let them wilt when gathered. 
 
 [He lays the flowers on the ground and passes onj 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 He mutters to himself some droneful saw, 
 
 After his kind. The very primroses 
 
 To his sad gaze beseem but ruefully ; 
 
 And little kens he that those bluebells keep, 
 
 There where they lie, within their threaded stems, 
 
 The secret of a joy unspeakable. 
 
 But lo ! a nest, and five blue eggs still warm 
 
 With love's close brooding ! If the misselthrush 
 
 That shrilled so gleefully till scared away 
 
 Had mated here, I must have spared his crib. 
 
 But never doth he build as high as this. 
 
 True poet that he is, he nesteth low, 
 
 Only to soar in song ! These eggs bespeak 
 
 The satin-shining starling, whistling thief, 
 
 Who mocks his betters and parades aloft 
 
 On borrowed notes. So will I filch these beads. 
 
 To make my woodland wreath still worthier 
 
 For her white throat. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING II 
 
 [He descends the tree, blows the eggs, and threads them with 
 the primroses and bluebells. Holding them out before 
 him] 
 
 A necklace for a queen. 
 
 EDGIVA {coming noiselessly from behind the faggot' 
 stacks and kneeling in front of him) 
 
 The queen is here ! 
 For love can seat the lowliest on a throne, 
 And — do you love me ? 
 
 EDWARD {raising her) 
 
 Sceptre is there none, 
 Sceptre nor sword, should these be mine to give, 
 I would not halve with you. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Halve but yourself, 
 And 'twere enough. Nay, give it all to me, 
 And never take away ! But will you not, 
 For true love's sake, entrust to me your name. 
 That I may say it when you are not near. 
 And, saying it, may fancy you less far? 
 
12 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Know me as Edward ; 'tis a princely name : 
 And if the world should ever call me prince, 
 Be sure that you my princess then would be. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Noble you musf be : noble too am I, 
 
 If true the tale that Danewulf loves to tell 
 
 When twilight duskens round the crackling logs ; 
 
 How, striding hearthward through the forest glade, 
 
 He heard a mewling in an eagle's nest, 
 
 And, swarming to the wychelm's topmost fork, 
 
 Found me, strange callow nestling, not yet fledged, 
 
 A golden fillet round my dimpled wrist, 
 
 Awake and wailing ; cradled there, he deems. 
 
 By widowed chieftain worsened in the fight, 
 
 And fleeing for his life. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 No ! dropped from Heaven. 
 Too fair, too sweet, for any seed of earth. 
 My blossom of the air, my sky-sent gift. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 13 
 
 My love from otherwhere, with not a touch 
 Of the gross ground ! 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 O woodland way of love ! 
 Wealthiest of all, that never says enough 
 Till every flower be hired by lordly speech 
 To bear its burden. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 More, much more, than speech ! 
 Look ! I have made a necklace for your neck, 
 Worthy its fresh and fair simplicity. 
 The Pagans have our gold and jewels filched, 
 And left us nought but steel, wherewith, please Heaven ! 
 We'll have the gold and jewels back again : 
 So for your throat I have neither ore nor gem. 
 Yet gaze hereon ! These golden primroses, 
 These topaz shells, these bells of amethyst. 
 Are — nay, but let me round them on your neck, 
 And then with kisses pay your jewel-smith. 
 
 [He fastens them round her throat.] 
 
14 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 How you all spoil me ! You, the most of all ! 
 My mother, — other mother have I none, 
 And she no other child, — Danewulf s free wife. 
 Is fain to hinder me when I would drudge, 
 Vowing that hand of woman noble-born 
 Should touch nought baser than the dainty task 
 Of pirn or needle ; but I heed her not : 
 And these poor arms you fold about you now, 
 Oft scrub the settle, scour the pans, and knead 
 The homely dough. You handle but the sword ! 
 
 [Breaking away from him.] 
 I am not meet for you. 
 
 EDWARD {embracing her tenderly) 
 
 So much more meet, 
 Because you are a woman, scorning not 
 A woman's duty. For my father says, 
 Work is the noblest lot and life of man, 
 While war is but the weapon wrought to clear 
 A path for peaceful labour. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I should love 
 To know your father. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 So you shall, some day, 
 When, Alfred's peaceful daydreams all fulfilled, 
 Men may beneath their roof-tree safely sit, 
 Not harried by these rovers of the sea. 
 This way, and that, finding no settled home 
 For such a winsome tenderling as thou ! 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Last night I had a dream, a foolish dream, — 
 Nay, shall I tell it you ? for still you count 
 My folly wisdom, — an unmeaning dream, 
 Withal that haunts me waking, — how there shone 
 Out of my body in the ebon night 
 A light — a light ! — that, steady as a star. 
 But dazzling as the noonday sun in heaven, 
 Lighted all England ! 
 
l6 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDWARD {folding his arms round her) 
 
 Dream that may come true, 
 My fair soothsayer ! But till then, no word 
 Of this . . . the highest, heavenUest thing on earth ! 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Now come and see my home. The needfire burns 
 With no more tell-tale watch than one old serf, 
 That craved for passing bit and sup within, 
 And whom my mother set beside the hearth 
 To heed the griddle-cakes, the while she sped 
 To milk the wayward goats ; and Danewulf too 
 Is far amid the clearing, raking mast. 
 To fat the hogs. Come ! just a little while. 
 
 SCENE III 
 
 [The interior of Danewulf's Hut. Alfred is sitting before 
 the hearth, scanning a map of England, sketched by himself.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Yes, thus I trace it, ocean-fashioned land, 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING i? 
 
 And wrinkled by the waves, that, rolling round 
 
 Its rough irregular shore, run out and in, 
 
 Following it always as though loth to leave. 
 
 Nay eager, were they let, to find a way 
 
 To its very heart ! England ! Once Egbert's England, 
 
 And his to be again, if Heaven but deign 
 
 Use my poor brain and blade to wrench it back 
 
 For Christ and Cerdic's race ! Northumbria, 
 
 Cradle and cloister of the learned Bede, 
 
 My ne'er seen master ! Rude East-Anglia, 
 
 Shouldering the ocean, as to push them off 
 
 Who dare to come too close : Twice sacred Kent, 
 
 Whither came Csesar first, Augustine next. 
 
 To win the isle to Government and God ! 
 
 Then my own Wessex woods and fastnesses. 
 
 Creeks, bays, bluffs, combes, and shoreward- setting 
 
 streams. 
 Crowned at their source with burgh and sanctuary 
 Now menaced by the Dane, and fenced in north 
 By Buhred's Mercia, Buhred overcome, 
 And feebly flying where he should have stood, 
 And won, or died. For all of these were Egbert's. 
 Aye, and the western shire's once glorious lord, 
 Adhelm's Geraint, owned Egbert Overlord, 
 c 
 
i8 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 Even to the uttermost point of land where sounds 
 Nought save the billows shocking herbless crags, 
 Or seagulls wheeling over wind-lashed waves. 
 Aye and beyond, where on from Wye to Dee 
 Runs Offa's Dyke, and Celt with Saxon live 
 In kindred husbandry, — Grant me, God King ! 
 I Alfred, your weak servant, yet may be 
 Law to North Wales and terror to Strathclyde, 
 And thus this side the mist may shape, within, 
 One England, outward sheltered by the surge 
 Against the spoiler ! 
 
 [He folds the map, and takes out his hornbook.] 
 But enough of hope, ' 
 Never made good save seconded by deed, 
 And deed's forerunner, thought. I broke off here, 
 So here I must run on ; that those who come 
 After my going may have means to learn 
 How fared it with their forebears, like to me, 
 Who strove with lack of learning, spelHng out 
 The time-smudged tales and charters of the Past, 
 Unto them adding truthful chronicle 
 Of our own deeds in this our mother-tongue, 
 Best bond of kinship, that shall weld in one 
 Jute, Angle, Frisian, aye and these fierce Danes, 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 19 
 
 Not alien to our cradle, once enforced 
 To own the lordship of the Saxon sword. 
 
 [He resumes the writing of the Chronicle. Meanwhile, Edward 
 and Edgiva have approached the Hut, and are about to 
 enter.] 
 
 EDGIVA 
 Hist ! Mother is within : I hear her voice. 
 Bide here awhile ; I will be back anon. 
 Quit me not yet ! Love still hath more to say. 
 
 [Edward remains without. Edgiva, entering, finds her mother 
 upbraiding Alfred for allowing the cakes to scorch.] 
 
 EDGIVA 
 Nay, mother, but you must not flout him thus. 
 Heed his gray hairs, look on his furrowed brow. 
 And that strange something which nor you, nor I, 
 Nor any of the level breed of folk. 
 Have in their seeming. 'Tis a scholar's face, 
 With far-off gaze, away in other lands, 
 Whither we may not fare nor follow him. 
 Look on his inkhorn. Nay, be quieted : 
 I'll rasp the cakes ; they're but a trifle singed, 
 And we shall sup in plenty. 
 
 [Danewulf's wife, still m.uttering her laments, leaves 
 Alfred and Edgiva alone.] 
 
20 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Heed her not. 
 She is a faithful housewife, and her thought 
 Ran on the loaves so keenly, that you feel 
 The sharpness of its edge. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 And rightfully 
 She rates my fault. I should have watched the 
 
 hearth. 
 Nor failed in the plain task she set me to, 
 The price of shelter. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Who would heed such things, 
 With a great book before him ? 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 But he should, 
 My kindly maid, if such his hiring be ; 
 And I am sore to blame. Life's needful work 
 Should be done best by him that reads and writes. 
 Not absently forgone ; for 'tis no gain 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 21 
 
 To be in letters wiser than your kind, 
 Withal in life more witless. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Would that I 
 Could read and write ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Then so you shall, some day, 
 And I will be your teacher. 
 
 [He observes the golden bracelet on her arm.] 
 
 Where, forsooth, 
 
 Gat you this armlet ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Where myself was got, 
 In the green cradle of a rocking elm : 
 Left by a flying father, so 'tis guessed, — 
 But 'tis a longsome story. Say me when 
 You'll come and make me bookish, like yourself; 
 And then together will we watch the cakes, 
 Nor let them scorch. 
 
22 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 To-morrow am I bound 
 
 To the King's Witan, held in Athelney, 
 
 Now the May moon is rounding to the full. 
 
 And haply many a sevennight will pass 
 
 Ere that again my footsteps tend your way. 
 
 But see ! 
 
 [He takes out of the folds of his peasant's smock a polished oval 
 crystal, inlaid with mosaic enamel, green and yellow, repre- 
 senting the outline of a human figure, which is seated, and 
 holds in each hand a lilystalk. On the back of the crystal 
 is a thin plate of gold, on which a flower is indicated. The 
 oval-shaped side of the crystal is surrounded by a setting 
 of gold filigree-work, on which are engraved the words, 
 Aelfred Mec Heht Gewyrcan.] 
 
 Take this, my pledge of thankfulness 
 
 For service timely paid. Show it to none, 
 
 Until, if ever, to the fastnesses 
 
 Where Alfred holds his camp, you chance to fare ; 
 
 Then with it ask of any, they will find 
 
 And lead you to the scholar who for now 
 
 Prays you Godspeed. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Every bright star in Heaven 
 Shine on your going ! 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 23 
 
 [Alfred quits the Hut, and goes his way. Edgiva comes out 
 to look for Edward, but cannot find him.] 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 O, he has gone, albeit I begged him stay, 
 And no word said when come he will again, 
 Leaving me reckon the time without the hope 
 That makes it shorter. 
 
 EDWARD {from his hiding-place) 
 
 Follow, if you can ! ^ 
 
 [He runs into the forest, Edgiva following, and is recognised 
 by Alfred as he does so.] 
 
 ALFRED {to himself) 
 Edward ! . . . Unkingly boy ! In these stern times 
 To fleet the May thus softly ! But, in youth, 
 As in these springtime saplings of the glade, 
 Floweth the mead of heedless wantonness, 
 That will not take life gravely ! And the maid? 
 Sooth, he hath chosen well, — if honestly ; 
 And she, being honest, needs will keep him so, — 
 Since 'tis the woman that keeps clean the man, — 
 Till I make inquest of his purposes. 
 [He passes on.] 
 
24 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Stop ! Stop ! I can no more ; you are too fleet 
 For feeble feet to follow ! 
 
 [She sinks on the ground, and Edward goes back to her.] 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Out of breath ! 
 So, weaker for my wooing ! Woo me back ! 
 Not even strength for that, my panting prize, 
 Whom I have caught since me she could not catch, 
 So keep within my toils ! Buy off the spear, 
 Or bear it, says the saw. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 There ! there ! enough ! 
 You would outdo the doves upon the bough. 
 And, save you cease, there will be nothing, soon, 
 To hold a captive. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Pay lip ransom then, 
 And so be free, until enslaved again — 
 Again — again — and ever yet again ! 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND^S DARLING 25 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Be seemly in your sweetness. Should he turn, 
 Who dwindles in the distance, he v/ould spy 
 Your madcap ways, and 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 What ! the muttering hind? 
 What should he reck of Mayday merriment, 
 That hinders not his going? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 He a hind ! 
 'Tis a skilled clerk, who reads — and writes — and gave 
 This crystal to my care. ... Oh ! I forgot ! 
 Show it to none, he said. But you, you are 
 Only myself— my 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Well, then show it me. 
 [She shows him the crystal.] 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 The King's ! 
 
26 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 What said you, dear? I did not understand. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 That 'tis a crystal of no common worth. 
 What said he with the gift? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Gift it was not, 
 Only a token-pledge to make me free 
 Of Alfred's Camp at Athelney, whene'er 
 I seek the scholar whom I strove to snatch 
 From mother's rating when the cakes got singed, 
 Whileas he bowed intent upon his book, 
 Instead of heeding them. 
 
 [Seeing him still pensive.] 
 
 What is it, Edward? 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nothing, dear maid, save wonder at the wealth 
 Entrusted to your keeping. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Do you fear 
 The gem is stolen ? I can catch him up, 
 And give it back to him. 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING VJ 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 No : better bide ; 
 Choosing a timelier hour to test its spell, 
 And his who gave it you. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 He promised me 
 That I should leam to read; and 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nay, forbear ! 
 Nor with sour learning curdle your sweet soul, 
 Now all as fresh as newly-uddered milk. 
 Unlettered love is lore enough for you, 
 And eke for me. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 But you can read and write ; 
 And, did I read, you then could write to me. 
 And, did I write, you then of me could read. 
 Some trusty bearer running twixt us twain, 
 And keeping us together all the while. 
 No longer held apart for days on days. 
 
28 ENGLAND'S DARLING act 
 
 Days — weeks — O, should it stretch into a month, 
 I could not bear it. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Yet, forsooth it may ! 
 Now listen, and be staid ! I love you, sweet ! 
 But, when the sword is out, why then farewell 
 To fondlings of the forest ; and the time 
 Is big with blows of blade and battle-axe ; 
 And, should the looked-for shock be on us soon, 
 I must be there ! 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Then so indeed must I. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 That, you must not ; nor yet to Athelney 
 
 Hie, ere I bring, or send, you greeting word. 
 
 For, as I trust my sword, do you trust me. 
 
 And know that, should it strike as straight and true 
 
 As is my purpose, I will bring it back, 
 
 Shut in its sheath, and lay it at your feet. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Whenwill that be? 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 29 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 No man can tell his weird. 
 God knows, Who sits above us, and to Him 
 I you entrust. So be nor sad nor lone. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I never can be lonely nor yet sad 
 With such a love as yours to hearten me. 
 Only, I pray you, do not die, nor leave 
 Me utterly without you. While you live, 
 I can bear all things. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Spoken as I wished. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I have no wish except to do your wish ; 
 For man is masterful, and so should be, 
 And I am but a woman ; having strength 
 To hide my weakness, thus to keep you strong, 
 But feeble all beside. You love me, don't you ? 
 
30 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 This morning when I rose to wend your way, 
 
 'Twas barely dawn, and herding night had not 
 
 Yet folded all her stars. But, as I clove 
 
 Straight through the low-lying marsh, then leaped to 
 
 land. 
 Tethering my boat among the reedy swamps 
 Where fish the flapping herons, soon the East 
 Crimsoned like hedgerose yet but half unclosed, 
 Then opened, and the day waxed frank and fresh 
 As she towards whom with hither-hastening feet 
 I fared, I flew. The treble-throated lark 
 Shook his wet wings, and, soon an unseen sound, 
 Carolled his matin at the gate of Heaven. 
 But whether like a fountain he went up, 
 Or in melodious spray fell bubbling back, 
 Upward or downward, still he seemed to trill 
 "Edgiva" and " Edgiva," till your name 
 Soared into space, and summered all the air. 
 Why do you weep ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 There is no tongue save tears 
 To say how happy your fond madness makes me. 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 31 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Then, as I crossed the Parrett where it swirls 
 Swelled by the He and Yeo, a mottled trout, 
 That motionless beneath an alder kept 
 Its poise against the current, sudden scared, 
 Flashed like a flying shadow through the stream, 
 And was no more ; and like to it I sped, 
 Swift up the windings of the wave that points 
 The pathway to your home. The lady smocks 
 Smiled on me as I passed, '' She waits ! she waits ! " 
 And every wilding windflower that I bruised 
 Seemed to upbraid the slowness of my feet. 
 And so I was too soon, — love always is, — 
 And made a pastime of this flowery chain 
 To link you to me still when I am gone. 
 Look ! when it fades, frame you another like it, 
 And then another, that the woven bond 
 Betwixt us twain may never be undone. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Nay, when this wilteth, I will wear it still. 
 
 Not round my neck, but nearer, next my heart, 
 
 Until you come again. 
 
32 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Then, now farewell ! 
 See ! Kiss my sword, and pray upon your knees 
 Nightly, and with each quivering of the dawn, 
 That it may strike as true as is my troth. 
 For God and England ! 
 
 END OF ACT I 
 
 ^^. 
 
ACT II 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I 
 
 [Athelney. Serfs are carrying loads to a barn near the 
 King's Camp.] 
 
 FIRST SERF 
 
 Fetch me a hunk of salted flitch y 
 
 And ajtig of sweetened ale. 
 And off I trudge to bank the ditch , 
 
 Or bang about the flail. 
 Who recks of summer sweat and swink. 
 
 Or winter's icy pang? 
 Tilt tip the mug, my mates, and drink, 
 
 And let the world go hang. 
 Go hang, 
 
 And let the world go hang! 
 35 
 
36 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 SECOND SERF 
 
 Now i youngsters, snap the fallen sticks, 
 
 Now, hearthwife, boil the pot, 
 For we have thatched the barley ricks, 
 
 And ploughed the gafol plot. 
 The shepherd'' s star begins to wink, 
 
 The she-wolf whets her fang; 
 Up with the mead-bowl, mates, and drink. 
 
 And let the world go hang. 
 Go hang, 
 
 And let the world go hang! 
 
 THIRD SERF 
 
 'Tis but a lean life we lead in Athelney. More 
 tuns of marsh water, I warrant, than combs of smooth 
 ale. 
 
 FIRST SERF 
 
 Aye, and with sopping sedge to lie on, o* nights. 
 But, after bearing planks to make ready the Witan for 
 the King and the King's thanes, one 'ud sleep on a 
 midden heap, were it dead froze. But that's done 
 with ; and now to stack all this gear afore noon. 
 [Alfred, still disguised as a peasant, passes by.] 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 37 
 
 SECOND SERF {tO AlFRED) 
 
 Lend us a hand, gaffer, with this amber o' meal ; 
 none o' your sharps nor dog-bran, but real Earl's 
 barley-meal, white as an Easter smock. 
 [Alfred helps, first one, then the other, in carrying the loads.] 
 
 THIRD SERF 
 
 They won't starve, anyhow. Ten score ambers 
 have been lodged in the King's Barn, since rising- 
 time, along with two dozen staters of cheese. 
 
 FIRST SERF 
 
 Aye, and more weys of bacon than I have fingers 
 to score with, and gafolwood enow to brew as many 
 combs of ale as 'ud drown all the Danes in Wessex. 
 
 SECOND SERF 
 
 Trust Alfred for sousing them less wastefuUy nor 
 that, before gangdays come round anew. {To 
 Alfred.) Why, thou has more thews than any 
 twain of us, though thou'rt not goodly grown, nor 
 seemst fit for bearing loads. But thou liftst with a 
 will. 
 
38 ENGLAND^S DARLING act ii 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 'Tis the will does half the work. Heave but with 
 the heart, and no sack feels heavy. 
 
 FIRST SERF 
 
 And here are clews of net yarn for the weaving 
 women, that no hands hang idle in Alfred's Camp. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Am I free to go, masters ? 
 
 SECOND SERF 
 
 Aye, as free as a boor may fare. 
 
 [Alfred leaves them.] 
 
 THIRD SERF 
 
 He's a rare hand at a pack, though we top him by 
 a poll. 
 
 The hogs are nosing in the mast. 
 
 The tegs are iii the fold ^ 
 The norland flakes are flying f asf^ 
 And 0^ Uis nipping cold. 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 39 
 
 So let us to the steading slink. 
 
 Still trolling as we gang. 
 Now is the time for meat and drink. 
 
 So let the world go hang, 
 Go hang, 
 
 So let the world go hang I 
 
 FIRST SERF 
 
 An awry song for the lambing season, and with 
 the cuckoo a-chuckling over the foster hedge- 
 sparrow. 
 
 THIRD SERF 
 
 No song's out o' season that cheers a man up. 
 There's more warmth in an old song than in green 
 faggots. 
 
 SECOND SERF 
 
 Aye, and singing's a posset that suits summer and 
 winter alike. They say Alfred the King wrote rare 
 ditties before the Army broke out anew; though 
 more anent spear-thrusts than tankards. But gam- 
 mer rhymes are well enough for honest churls. 
 
40 ENGLAND'S DARLING act il 
 
 SCENE II 
 
 [The King's Chamber.] 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 Still, Alfred comes not. 
 
 PLEGMUND 
 
 He is sure to come 
 Ere to the socket burns this rushlight down. 
 He never wantoned with his word, nor now 
 Will prove untrue to it. 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 Not if he live. 
 Nor if he still be free to come. But how 
 If eyes as searching as his own have stripped 
 From off his kingly gait the peasant's smock. 
 And even now within the Danish lines 
 He dwells a bondman. 
 
 ETHELRED 
 
 Out ! They will as soon 
 Twine leathern thongs about the nimble air 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 41 
 
 As net him in their toils. Ne'er would they guess 
 There moves the man so reckless as to range 
 Unshielded 'mid his foes, scenting their trail 
 Close as a sleuth-hound. 
 
 [Alfred enters.] 
 
 Ethelnoth, the King ! 
 [They make obeisance.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Yes, I am back, my wistful friends, but not 
 Ere I have marked where the false Guthrum folds 
 His savage flock, and whither next he wends, 
 Seeking fresh pasture ; aye, and every track. 
 Here through the forest, there along the stream, 
 And clear beyond between the dimpled downs, 
 That, twisting hither and thither, will lead at length 
 To covert hollow, whence, with God for guide, 
 We may upon their present fastness spring. 
 And send them flying hearthless as the wind, 
 Over the waste they have made. 
 
 ETHELNOTH 
 
 Thank Heaven ! you are safe, 
 Nor for such wayward danger paid with life. 
 
42 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 And if I had ! 'Tis not for length of days, 
 
 No, but for breadth of days that we should crave. 
 
 Life is God's gift for godlike purposes. 
 
 'Tis the mere die we play with ; that which counts 
 
 Is the high stake of honour that we throw for. 
 
 And for such worthy gamesters Heaven provides. 
 
 Not in safe coffer should we lock our lives, 
 
 But put them out to peril, that our sons 
 
 May be the richer for the stake we won. 
 
 Withal, my shrewd Archbishop, 'tis allowed, 
 
 When dangerous duty doth not bid us spend 
 
 Life without thought or reckoning, 'tis so short, 
 
 Well must it be to use it thriftily ; 
 
 So for your helpful hands is further work. 
 
 To eke out mine, still hampered by the sword. 
 
 Aid me ; nay, mend me ; for my lesser skill 
 
 Needs your large craft. Pope Gregory's Pastoral, 
 
 We call his Hindbook in our English tongue, 
 
 Worcester's good Bishop, Were frith, will revise. 
 
 And I myself must follow, when I may, 
 
 Wulfstan and Othere through those norward seas 
 
 Whence came our fathers on their flashing oars, 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 43 
 
 And with their Finnish voyages enrich 
 
 The pages of Orosius. Unto you 
 
 The harder task, to render faithfully 
 
 The Consolations of Philosophy, 
 
 Where I have missed what sage Boethius means. 
 
 O Plegmmid ! Plegmund ! Sore is it to scan, 
 
 As yesternight I did, in Alcuin's verse, 
 
 The list of Latin texts once housed in York, 
 
 The envy of the Frankish Emperor, 
 
 Great Charles himself, now wandering on the winds, 
 
 Or fuel for the fire of these rude Danes, 
 
 But all of them to be some day replaced 
 
 By God's good help and yours, and written plain 
 
 In Saxon speech for English boys to read. 
 
 And thereby understand, though, unlike me, 
 
 They may not journey thither, that which Rome 
 
 Did and still does to better man. But now, 
 
 The dwindling rushlight in the lanthorn shows 
 
 We must unto the Witan. Ethelnoth, 
 
 Com.e to my side, and you too, Ethelred, 
 
 Both craftier with the sword than with the pen. 
 
 And help me both with presence and with voice 
 
 To rouse my people from their peaceful hives, 
 
 And make them swarm for battle ! 
 
44 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 SCENE III 
 
 [The Witanagemote. Alfred, wearing a circlet of gold round 
 his head, and bearing in his hand a wand, is seated on a 
 high oaken settle, with Edward standing on his right. 
 Round him are his Reeves, Thanes, and chief Ealdormen ; 
 Plegmund, Archbishop of Canterbury ; Werefrith, 
 Bishop of Worcester, and Grimbald, his Mass-priest. In 
 the enclosed space are congregated the lesser Ealdormen 
 and their followers, the armed Freemen. Behind, at a 
 little distance, stand the short-haired unarmed Serfs. The 
 Queen and her daughter Ethelfrida, followed by a train 
 of noble maidens, carry the mead-bowl round to the Thanes 
 and Ealdormen.] 
 
 FIRST FREEMAN 
 
 He looks like Justice throned. 
 
 SECOND FREEMAN 
 
 And such he is, 
 And hither will none hie to press their claim, 
 Save it be true ; for Alfred's gaze can pierce 
 Through densest fogs of falsehood and uncloak 
 Each hireling lie. 
 
 THIRD FREEMAN 
 
 Withal, how mild his look. 
 A mother's eyes are not more moist with love 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 45 
 
 Than his, when they are fixed upon his son, 
 The stalwart Athehng. 
 
 FOURTH FREEMAN 
 
 Yet is he stem 
 As Ethelnoth himself, if he but mark 
 Some blemish on a forehead unabashed. 
 I would as lief face God, were I to blame, 
 As stand, for fault stripped bare, before the King. 
 
 FIRST FREEMAN 
 
 Can it be true that he as lettered is 
 As Grimbald's self ? 
 
 SECOND FREEMAN 
 
 Aye, ever since the day . 
 He learned the book of pictured Saxon verse 
 Quickest of all his brothers, he hath stored 
 His mind with written lore. 
 
 THIRD FREEMAN 
 
 I mind me, too. 
 How in his boyhood was there none more deft 
 To cope a haggard peregrine, to knit 
 
46 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ll 
 
 The bewits to the bells, or smoothly swing 
 The feathered lure around his head until 
 The unseamed falcon learned to wing its way 
 Over the herons homing up the wind, 
 And, binding, rake its quarry to the ground. 
 
 FOURTH FREEMAN 
 
 Aye, and I warrant he could still unhood 
 A cast, and send them flying on the chase. 
 As he will stoop upon the Danes, and force 
 Their filthy pannels to disgorge the food 
 Poached in our English pools. 
 
 FIRST FREEMAN 
 
 In every art 
 He shows the way. Woodcraft and masonry, 
 Shoesmith or wheelwright, all are one to him. 
 He throws the buttressed bridge across the stream, 
 And plans the sinewy curve of each fresh keel 
 That bears the roving ramparts of the realm. 
 Unto the goldsmith's dainty handiwork 
 He lends his counsel, even while he broods 
 On the rough shifts and sudden wants of war. 
 Never, like Buhred, would he quit the land, 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 47 
 
 Came every Danish oarsman oversea 
 To hem us in. 
 
 SECOND FREEMAN 
 
 Hush ! He anon will speak. 
 
 ALFRED {I'ising) 
 Ealdormen, and Thanes, and Free Men all, 
 Whom here I see, banded in battle-gear, 
 Kin of my sceptre, helpmates of my sword. 
 To you I come, your King and Overlord, 
 Offering and seeking wisdom. Let them speak, 
 So that they fight, both when and how they will. 
 And only those stand husht who bear no spear. 
 For 'twere unmeet that those who in a State 
 Wield no more worthy weapon than the tongue. 
 Should have or voice or share in ruling it. 
 In Witanagemote and Folkmote both. 
 More royal-rich than these marsh fastnesses, 
 In better days we have met. But let none think 
 That I am less a King or you more base. 
 That of such trappings we awhile are scant 
 As Peace can hang about a Ruler's hearth. 
 For he still reigns whose mind is not dethroned, 
 
48 ENGLAND'S DARLING act n 
 
 And, though marauders ravage half his realm, 
 Upholds unserfed the Sceptre of his soul. 
 Kings there have been, aye and of Cerdic's blood, 
 With Woden's thunder moaning in their veins. 
 Who, even as Ine, doffed a doleful Crown, 
 Donning the cowl. I shall not do Uke these. 
 What though I found within the royal bed, 
 Where I had lain with this my cleanly Queen, 
 Littered, the farrow of a forest sow, 
 Should I bemoan the fashion of the world. 
 Tonsure the head Pope Leo's very hand 
 Anointed kingly, and slink hence to Rome 
 A niddering pilgrim? Never, while you stand 
 Steadfast about me ! Nay, if you should leave 
 The Crown of Egbert fenceless on my brow, 
 It should not fall till I had fallen too. 
 And gone to God to answer for my Rule, 
 As every shriven soul must answer Him 
 Whose Sceptre doth not pass. Tell me then, now, 
 Free Men of Hampshire, Devon, Somerset, 
 Here mustered in your Hundreds, do you will 
 That we fare forth anew unto the field, 
 To put it to the proof of life and death. 
 If this fair isle be Guthrum's land or ours? 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 49 
 
 Freemen (clashing their shears) 
 Aye ! Aye ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 You answer as beseemeth those that clung 
 Close to my side at Ashdune on the day 
 When Ethelred, my brother, now with God, 
 Lingered at mass, and the rough Danish King, 
 Barsac, along with Osbern, Harold, Frene, 
 And the two Sidracs, lay upon their backs, 
 And never stood up more ; aye, and who took 
 Their share with me in those eight sinewy shocks 
 At Merton, Reading, Wilton, Englefield, 
 Within one year, whereby, when first I wore 
 The kingly crown, Guthrum and Oskytel 
 Swore not alone on relics of the saints. 
 But on their pagan bracelet smeared with blood. 
 In sacrifice, the pledges now they break. 
 Their hostages I hold, but 'tis not meet 
 That upon these should fall the Christian sword ; 
 And, spared, they now fain fight upon our side, 
 Betraying their betrayers. But there be 
 Others, unfree, withal for whom Christ died. 
 Into whose hands I will entrust the spear, 
 
 E 
 
50 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ll 
 
 So they will thrust for England, and your voice 
 Says aye to mine. 
 
 Freemen {clashing their spears) 
 Aye ! Aye ! 
 
 ALFRED {to the Serfs) 
 
 Therefore, in this free Witan, I decree, 
 Weaponless men, that you be weaponed now ; 
 And, should you fall, your offspring shall be free, 
 And offspring's offspring, and their locks shall float 
 Over their necks by no base burden bowed. 
 Nor yet of these alone I snap the chain ; 
 But unto you, the tonsured serfs of God, 
 I stretch my hand, and bid you, I your King, 
 To do as Toli at Kesteven did. 
 When Hingvar's pagan bands, with Hubba's horde. 
 Moved against Croyland, now alas ! their prey : 
 The layman's sword he buckled to his frock, 
 And with the battle-axe avenged the Cross. 
 Do you as he, and with a better doom, 
 Reclaiming Croyland, Ely, Huntingdon, 
 For pious peace, such as at Glastonbury 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 5^ 
 
 Still happily abides. Yet, since the land 
 Which bred you, suckled you, and fosters now, 
 Hath upon all male thews this righteous toll, 
 More needful is it still that they whom God 
 Shaped to be nests and nourishers of Ufa, 
 Should double now their song and suit to Heaven 
 For England's weal. Therefore, my Wife, depart. 
 With all white souls that wilUng wend with you. 
 Unto the eastern gate of Shaftesbury, 
 And build you there a nunnery whose vows 
 May win the deathless Overlord of War 
 To lead our van in fight, and fence our rear. 
 I have your leave for this. Lady and Wife, 
 Whom still a silent helpmate at my side. 
 And by that silence keeping me more strong, 
 I pray to have, till strength avails no more. 
 And, though my grandsire Egbert left his land 
 To those that wield the spear, and not to those 
 That ply the distaff, and his law stands mine, 
 To you, in endless token of the trust 
 That you have had in me, and I in you, 
 I do bequeathe Wantage and Athelney, 
 My cradle, and my refuge, in this war. 
 To hold as free as you have held my love. 
 
52 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 And may the bane of Christ and all His Saints 
 Blind him that setteth it aside ! 
 
 [The Queen, Ethelfrida, and their handmaidens, depart. 
 As they pass out, Asser, followed by a group of Welsh 
 Chieftains, enters.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 But who 
 Breaks in upon our Mote ? 
 
 [Recognising Asser.] 
 
 Right welcome guest ! 
 
 Asser, my own true Asser, light in dark, 
 
 Friend, teacher, trusty in all thought and deed ! 
 
 [Alfred descends from his kingly settle, embraces AssER, and 
 leads him to a seat at his side.] 
 
 Whence come you, and these dark outlandish men, 
 That hang upon your heel, as though afeard 
 To lose the claim of service, and to fall 
 Forfeit to foes ? Tell them they here are safe 
 As at God's altar. 
 
 ASSER 
 
 Loving Lord and King, 
 My pupil, yet my master, these scared men 
 Are gentle in their blood, of princely birth, 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND^S DARLING 53 
 
 Sons of King Mouric, Tendyr, Hemrid, Ris, 
 Who now on-this-side Britain wield the rod. 
 They from Demetria followed me, their guide, 
 To crave your overlordship in their land 
 Against the unrulier Welsh that harry it, 
 Leagued with the Danish robbers of the main. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Asser ! to bring good tidings ever first, 
 
 You never brought me blither news than this. 
 
 Bid them be seated, — aye, more near to me, — 
 
 And tell them in their tongue, till they learn ours 
 
 Which it will be your happy lot to teach. 
 
 That in this Island there must be one lord. 
 
 One law, one speech, one bond of blood between 
 
 Saxon and Briton, and that Wales must be 
 
 Not more nor less than England, but the same. 
 
 Their will is still their own, to go or stay. 
 
 But, on the word and promise of a King, 
 
 So they will aid me to beset the foe, 
 
 And we together conquer, they shall dwell. 
 
 They and their kindred, free among their hills, 
 
 Fenced beyond heathen ravin by my sword. 
 
54 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 [Again addressing the Witanagemote.] 
 
 Gone are the women. None but men stand here, 
 And but to men and manly ears I speak. 
 You know my law, whereby, one half the year. 
 Each one may keep his hearth and till his land. 
 Eschewing for that while the toll of war, 
 But, when the time is past, he must anew 
 Take shield and spear ; and some of you there be 
 Who now afresh have claim to put these off, 
 And back unto their homesteads ; and the law, 
 The law shall stand, if 'tis their will to go. 
 Never shall law be broken in this land. 
 Leastways by me : so speak who claim to go, 
 And nurse a liking for the coward's doom, 
 A grave of mire, with hurdle over it. 
 
 [They all remain silent.] 
 ALFRED 
 
 Nay, but I will not shame you into right. 
 Nor in the deadly fellowship of war 
 Have at my side unwilling guide-brothers. 
 Therefore I say to all, to those that hold 
 Five hides of land and owe me service for it. 
 
SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 55 
 
 Earl and ceorl, tithing — hundred — man, 
 
 Franklin and yeoman, ploughman, goatherd, sower, 
 
 Hayward and woodward, all that liefer would 
 
 Earn with their sweat what they might win with blood, 
 
 You all are free to go, and in the fight 
 
 We will make boot without you. House-carles shall 
 
 Fill up the gap you leave. 
 
 Freemen 
 
 We all will stay. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Then pledge me in the mead-bowl, spearmen all. 
 Me, your host-leader ! While that Ethelred, 
 My brother, lived, I bowed to him as King, 
 Though by my father's will I might have claimed 
 Rule over Kent ; and this I did because 
 'Twas best for England, and for England now 
 Is it not best I be your Overlord ? 
 
 Freemen {sirikiiig their shields 7vith their spears) 
 Aye ! A3'e ! 
 
 Alfredl Alfred! 
 Lord of England I 
 England's comfort I 
 
56 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 Engla?id's shepherd! 
 England's darling! 
 Alfred! Alfred! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Now tell them, Werefrith, that whoever falls 
 Fighting for England, soul-shot sure shall be, 
 And wend him straight from battle-doom to Christ. 
 [All kneel, and Werefrith blesses them.] 
 
 SCENE IV 
 
 [Alfred's Study. Alfred is shaping models of long-oared 
 boats, meant to cope with the Danish esks.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Not till the Sea hath owned us for its lord, 
 Will England's shore be free. Hence must we lay 
 Our rod along the waters till it stretch 
 Wide as they welter, further than they foam. 
 Who holds the sea, perforce doth hold the land, 
 And who lose that must lose the other too. 
 When wave on wave gleams crested with a foe, 
 And billows given for safety gape with doom 
 And ruin for the redeless. Right meseem 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING $7 
 
 Stem, stern, and keel, nigh twice the bulk of those 
 The Frisians use, and with a sharper sweep. 
 God grant that I may chase them from the seas. 
 And gird this island with a watery belt 
 Not all the world in arms can cleave or cross ! 
 [Enter the Atheling.] 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Unto your bidding. Father, am I come. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Where were you, Edward, yesterday at noon? 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 In Selwood Forest, in its very heart, 
 
 Hard by the clearing round the hut where dwells 
 
 The neatherd Danewulf. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 And why went you there? 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 To greet the loveliest maiden in the land. 
 Forgive me, Sir ! but oh, if you could see 
 How fair, how 
 
58 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Hold ! enough ! A fault avowed 
 Is sooth a fault forgiven. Bating untruth, 
 There is no blot I could not brook in you, 
 Hoping to mend it. For remember, Edward ! 
 Truth is the free man's weapon, and a lie 
 Makes him unfree and sinks him to the serf. 
 I would that in this land, which some day will 
 Be happier far than I or you can make it. 
 Truth should be deemed the first and last of virtues. 
 For truth is justice, fairness, fearlessness, 
 And is to man as honesty to woman; 
 And I would liefer see you hewn to death 
 By pagan battle-axe than soil your lips 
 With craven paltering. But, Edward, Edward, 
 Though lust is not so base as is a lie. 
 It ofttimes leads thereto ; and, even when 
 It wants that last worst shame, what bane it brings 
 On households and on kingdoms ! Well you know 
 What brought the perjured Guthrum to this land, 
 Lured oversea by Biorn Butsecarl, 
 To be avenged on the adulterous King, 
 Northumbrian Osberht. 
 
 [Edward is about to speak.] 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND^S DARLING 59 
 
 Nay, but let me tell, 
 For your soul's hale, that in my own hot youth 
 Flesh with the spirit was so sore at war, 
 I prayed to God He would in kindness send 
 Some sickness that might chasten this base fire, 
 And make me rule-worthy ; for he who lives 
 Thrall unto fleshly bondage is not fit 
 To be the lord of others ; and God sent 
 A scourge so sharp, that I again besought 
 Some milder stroke, — not blindness, leprosy, 
 Nor any hurt unworthy of a King, — 
 And in His goodness He then laid on me 
 The burden that you know. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Father, I swear. 
 My love for this fair maiden is as clean 
 As her unblemished soul, and I would fain, 
 Having your yea, still woo her for my wife. 
 Nay, but still hear me, you that ever were 
 Suffering and mild, bUthesome and good to me, 
 Let me go fetch and bring her to your feet ! 
 The coralled hawthorn in the wayside brake, 
 When Autumn winds have blown the leaves away, 
 
6o ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 Hath not the ruddy ripeness of her lips. 
 June's bluebells are not heavenlier than her eyes, 
 Nor than her cheek more dewy, and her voice, — 
 The woodwete's is no sweeter when it soars, 
 And we look up to hear it ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Need is none 
 To tell me that. I heard it yesterday. 
 Between the whiles you wantoned in the wood, 
 And heeded not the King that crossed your path, 
 In tattered seeming. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Your forgiveness. Father ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Rise, boy ! Your love is loyal ; and no maid, 
 That, bred on English soil and fain to bide 
 By English hearthfire, hath not in her blood 
 The blur of bondage, can be held unmeet 
 To grace the bed and settle of a King. 
 But, Edward, can it be, in these mirk days, 
 You dally in the dreamy ways of love. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 6i 
 
 Now that your one fast thought by day, your one 
 Fond hope when moist sleep loosens all your limbs, 
 Should be for England ! England, none but Englanc 
 Clean or unclean, this is no time for love. 
 Where is your sword ? I'll have no Atheling 
 Lulled in the sleek and sleepy lap of love, 
 When every heart-beat in his body should 
 Hasten the hour for death-grip with the Dane ! 
 [Enter a Messenger.] 
 
 MESSENGER 
 
 A Danish girl, seen slinking by the stream 
 
 Trod by your outmost watches, hath been brought 
 
 Into the camp, and claims to see the King. 
 
 Let her within. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 [Edgiva enters.] 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Edward ! 
 
 EDWARD {to Edgiva) 
 
 The King ! 
 [Edgiva kneels.] 
 
62 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 ALFRED {to Edward, sternly) 
 
 Go hence ! 
 [Edward quits the King's presence.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Rise, child ! But wherefore pry you in our land. 
 So straitened now, that all beyond it feeds 
 The heathen Army ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 But I did not pry. 
 I am as true to Alfred and his name, 
 As they that roughly clutched and dragged me here, 
 Because of Danish bracelet round my wrist ; 
 And, since they would not harken, but led on 
 My footsteps hitherward, I claimed to see 
 Yourself, the King, and tell you all my tale. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Tell it me, then. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Who was it that you chid 
 Out of your sight ? 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 63 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 My son, the Atheling. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Oh! 
 
 [She covers her face.] 
 Why did he come into my lowly life, 
 And with his April sunshine cozen it 
 To blossom back to his ! It was not worthy. 
 I pray you, let me fare unto my home, 
 To Danewulf and my mother, where I may 
 Forget him utterly, and never more 
 Hear words of fond untruth. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Blame him not thus ! 
 He is my son, and, never since he learned 
 From Saxon mother this our Saxon tongue, 
 Or spake or thought untruth. He loves too well, 
 And hence it was I drove him from your sight. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 'Twas all unwitting that I gave him first 
 A love-tryst in the forest. Had I known ! 
 
64 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 But now meseems I know not what I know, 
 Save that I never will behold him more. 
 Nay, be a King ! and send me to my home ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 We'll think of that to-morrow. For to-night, 
 You needs must lie in Athelney. But, child, 
 What sought you when our wardens, overwise, 
 As witlessness oft is, enforced you here ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 It was the path whereby he went when last 
 He looked farewell, and so I trod the place, 
 Because it seemed to bring me nearer to him ; 
 And, as I did so, luckless that I am, 
 I dropped and lost upon the river bank. 
 Or maybe in the stream, the crystal token 
 Given me by hoary wanderer who had sought 
 Rest in our hut, and promised, should I seek 
 His dwelling with that earnest, he would teach me 
 To spell and read, and make me learned and wise. 
 Now is it lost, and everything is lost. 
 And I shall know nor love nor learning now. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 65 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Would you that withered master know again? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Sooth, that I should ! I never can forget 
 His look, his voice. His speech was like to yours, 
 But he was gone in years, and on his brow 
 Their snows had drifted. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Maiden, it was I, 
 Whose business 'tis to learn what mischief may 
 Be brewing on our borders, so awhile 
 Misfeatured thus ; and you have nothing lost, 
 Saving the jewel, easily forgone. 
 And somewhere lost for other days to find, 
 Time-token of the trouble England bore, 
 And, bearing, yet will better. I myself. 
 True to my word, will teach your tongue to read. 
 And you teach Edward more than thus you learn, — 
 Since household lore the truest wisdom is, — 
 When War's loud shuttle shall have woven peace. 
 And in this England all who love may live 
 
66 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 
 
 As safe as nest of whinchat in the brake. 
 
 But, child, not now, not now ! For never think, 
 
 Until the howling pack of Pagan wolves 
 
 Are flogged to heel or scattered oversea, 
 
 To Hft and lay your arms about his neck, 
 
 Whose service lies elsewhere ! What ho ! without. 
 
 [An attendant enters.] 
 
 Unto our Lady lead this guest, and say 
 
 It is the bidding of the King she be 
 
 With the handmaidens pillowed for the night. 
 
 END OF ACT U 
 
ACT III 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I 
 
 [The Fens north-east of Athelney. The Atheling and EdgivA 
 on the water ; Edward rowing, Edgiva steering.] 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 It might be March, not May, so crisp the wind 
 Curls the sleek water, and besets the keel, 
 Driving it slantwise. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Then, sweet, keep her straight. 
 For, says the King, pondering on mightier things, 
 Face a head gust and it will steady you. 
 See ! 'tis nor May nor March, but April's self, 
 That runs along the ripples of the mere. 
 Sunning gray wrinkles into golden smiles. . . . 
 Look ! look 1 
 
 69 
 
70 ENGLAND'S DARLING ACT lii 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Whatwas't? 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 A feeding kingfisher 
 Jewelled the au: a moment, and is gone. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 As you are going ! 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nay, sweet, not for long. 
 Let us but root the heathen from the isle. 
 And then once more we many a time and oft 
 Will in the dark-green gloamings of moist May 
 Link hands in silence. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Can you hit the spot 
 Where we must meet the King? 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Aye, to a rood. 
 'Tis hard beyond where now the wild swans breed : 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 71 
 
 She with husht pinions furled upon the nest, 
 He tacking fierce, and shrilUng through his sails 
 Against intruding footstep. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Have a care ! 
 The water waxeth shallower, and ahead 
 The reedmace stouter grows. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 I mind them well. 
 How often have I crushed their crackling stems, 
 Sered by the wind and manacled in ice, 
 When first we came to crouch in Athelney ! 
 There's not a tangle in this stubborn world 
 I had not pushed through then, for straight my will 
 Was straining to your threshold ! O, how long 
 Remorseful Winter, wishing to be Spring, 
 Kept feebly slipping back from sun to cloud. 
 From bud to snowflake ! Now 'tis May ! 'tis May ! 
 The Mother-month that fosters all things good. 
 And, with the white renewal of the thorn, 
 Arrays our hearts for battle ! 
 
72 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Not for me ! 
 Nay, but I would not have it otherwise. 
 Love England first, Edgiva afterward. 
 Till Peace shall make them twin. Why hath the King 
 Laid this great meed on my unworth, that now 
 We wend together unto Guthrum's camp, 
 Minstrel and daughter? I am sore afeard. 
 Not of the danger, — danger there is none 
 With him to lead, — no, but of his high thoughts 
 And my mean mind to mate them. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Have no fear. 
 Though low unto the lofty may not reach, 
 The lofty to the low doth easy stoop : 
 Beside, my father loves you. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 For your sake. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nay, but I know he loves you for your own ; 
 And sure in love is neither high nor low. 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING ^z 
 
 But even only. More : he needs your help, 
 In that vexed country that you roamed a child 
 Ere Danewulf changed his lord, and came to dwell 
 Nigher to Athelney ; where Deverel dips 
 Dark underground to suckle Wiley's stream, 
 And Egbert's Stone remains a mark unmoved 
 By war or time. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 How well I can recall 
 Each runnel, thicket, clearing, garth, and stead, 
 Lowland and upland, dimple in the hills, 
 As free from fear as I who gazed at them. 
 To think that I should live to help the King ! 
 There is a lofty sorrow in his gaze. 
 Like to the moon, high up in Heaven alone. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Be you the star tending his loneliness. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I never could be that, but sometimes hope 
 He may deign weep, that I may stay his tears. 
 
74 ENGLAND'S DARLING act in 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nay, never think to see him weep or wail ! 
 
 Like clouds that are not low enough for rain, 
 
 His grief is far too high to fall in tears. 
 
 But now, please Heaven, his woe shall roll away, 
 
 And only sunshine sit on Alfred's brow. 
 
 But hush ! we near the place. By Nicor's Thorn 
 
 The King awaits me. Bide you by the bank 
 
 Till I wend back to you. 
 
 [He leaps from the boat, fastens it to the shore, helps 
 Edgiva to land, then leaves her.] 
 
 SCENE II 
 
 [Nicor's Thorn.] 
 
 ALFRED {addressing Edward) 
 
 Hold fast by that. Bring but the best to front. 
 And keep the unsteady well in hand behind. 
 'Tis not the biggest udder gives most milk ; 
 And with a trusty handful one may deal 
 A deadlier stroke than with a land in arms. 
 Husband these likewise, and ferment their hearts 
 With eagerness themselves to rise to best. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 75 
 
 By showing them what manhood ripe can do. 
 
 Our Saxon spearmen you may trust to stand, 
 
 Though falls their lord. Yourself must lead the Celts, 
 
 And they will then make merry mock of death. 
 
 But, on the way, be lord of their loose wills, 
 
 And keep them silent as the disciplined stars : 
 
 Nor let them thunder till you've lightened, lest 
 
 The foe, forewarned, find shelter from the bolt. 
 
 Be mindful, too, to leave no tell-tale trail. 
 
 Learn wisdom from the blind and witless mole, 
 
 That self-discovering burrower that upheaves 
 
 The ground wherethrough he travels, and for that 
 
 Is easy trapped. Guthrum and Oskytel 
 
 Yet He at Ethandune, keeping no watch, 
 
 But waste the weeks in rest and rioting, 
 
 Deeming I still am fast in Athelney. 
 
 Edgiva knows each winding of the ways 
 
 That creep unto their camp. Fear not for us. 
 
 But do my bidding to the uttermost. 
 
 Hear you nought more, be sure that, when the sun 
 
 Hath thrice upon the heathen Army set, 
 
 We twain shall be within. So, when the night 
 
 Throbs unto dawn, and the May moon turns pale 
 
 Because her lord is coming, then shrill loud 
 
^(^ ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 
 
 With noise of battle, and strike straight where waves 
 
 The unclean Raven over Guthrum's tent. 
 
 Till then, farewell ! Remember Who you are, 
 
 And Who you will be ! Mereward wend you now 
 
 Unto Edgiva. Dally not, but bend 
 
 Hither her feet. Then swift unto your oars. 
 
 And speed where all that's best in England waits you. 
 
 God edge your sword ! 
 
 SCENE III 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Nay, you must wend alone. The King is stern, 
 And bids me speed. One kiss, and then farewell. 
 
 [He leaps into the boat.] 
 EDGIVA 
 
 If you are slain ! 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Then we shall meet in Heaven ! 
 If not, keep tryst with love at Ethandune. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 77 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 [In Selwood Forest. Alfred teaching Edgiva to read.] 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Now must we up and forward. You have threshed 
 Enough to-day to garner till to-morrow. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I would that I were not so slow of wit. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 And I were happy if my people could 
 
 Learn half as sharply. Well, they shall, some day. 
 
 But in these cloudy times men's thoughts fly low, 
 
 And soar not mindward. . . . 
 
 How I remember my dear Mother bringing 
 
 Unto my brothers and myself a book, 
 
 Saying it should be his who spelled it first ; 
 
 And by God's pleasure, fell the book to me, — 
 
 Too late a scholar ! No such friend as books. 
 
 For they with unreproachful looks and lips 
 
 Bear with our going, greet us when we come, 
 
 Misunderstood bewail not, ne'er upbraid 
 
78 ENGLAND'S DARLING ACT ill 
 
 Though we be dull, and teach without a rod. 
 
 When you shall sit below your sceptred lord, 
 
 Lead him to honour books, and those who write them, 
 
 For to his people an unlettered King 
 
 Is as a lanthorn lacking of its light. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 I will be mindful. Tell me more of Rome, 
 Whereof we read but now. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 I was a child, 
 With stammering tongue and half-awakened gaze. 
 When Ethelred, my father, now with God, 
 Bore me to Rome. But, an I close mine eyes, 
 I can behold, in dream as clear as day. 
 Its hills, and all the wonders throned upon them. 
 Rome once was Overlord to all the world, 
 But not for Empire now, nay, for bare life, 
 Is ofttimes hard beset : a fallen Rome, 
 Yet awful in its fall ; bemocked and scourged. 
 Humbled and thorn-crowned, as meseems is fit 
 For Christ's own city, mastering still mankind 
 By the rood-token of His martydom. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 79 
 
 My father gave a hundred mancuses 
 
 For oil wherewith to keep the lamp alight 
 
 By Peter's tomb from Easter Eve till dawn, 
 
 As I too will, when better days shall come. 
 
 For 'tis my wish to see, in this strong land, 
 
 A manly State wed to a wifely Church, 
 
 The helpmeet this, but that one still the lord. 
 
 For, as the woman, so too is the Church 
 
 Of a diviner nature, but on earth 
 
 They should but meekly counsel, then obey. 
 
 [They walk on in silence.] 
 ALFRED 
 
 Wot you the hour ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 It must be long past noon, 
 Because the shepherd's weather-wise hath shut, 
 As doth the goatsbeard in the waning year. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 That is a lore not to be had from books. 
 
 Withal more helpful. Know you all the flowers? 
 
8o ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 All were too many. Some there be I know, 
 Taught me by Danewulf and my foster-mother. 
 She tells their uses, he their home and name. 
 Is that a wound you have upon your hand ? 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 'Tis but a scratch I haply got that day 
 I cheered me by your hearth. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Nay, show it me. 
 Lay but the plantain-leaf upon the wound. 
 By Danewulf waybread cleped, 'twill cure it straight 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 There's nothing wasteful in this housewife world, 
 Would men themselves be heedful. I have heard 
 Cider gone sour will scour the foul egg white. 
 
 EDOrVA 
 
 I've seen my mother do't a score of times. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Tell me what else she doth with leaves and simples. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 8i 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 With pewterwort she burnishes the pans, 
 
 Makes lye of betony to soothe the brow, 
 
 And heaHng salve from early primroses. 
 
 She steeps for Danewulf leaves of ladysmock. 
 
 For they keep strong the heart ; fresh woodruff soaks" 
 
 To brew cool drink, and keep away the moth ; 
 
 And, in the month when earth and sky are one, 
 
 Squeezes the bluebell 'gainst the adder's bite. 
 
 With windflower honey are my tresses smoothed, 
 
 My freckles with the speedwell's juices washed. 
 
 And sleepy breath made sweet with galingale. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Nay, you should leave the freckles, since begot 
 By sun and wind, an honourable birth ; 
 And Edward in his love- dream swears you are 
 As freckled as the foxglove, and as fair. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 What, my dear lord, is that? 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Nay, but you know it. 
 Look ! there is one, half-blown before its time. 
 
 G 
 
82 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 We call that thimble-flower. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 A better name, 
 As all names are, when given by simple lips. 
 How call you this ? 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 We call it golden-withy. 
 This is bog-asphodel the Danish Jarls 
 Cull, so they say, to dye their yellow hair. 
 And this is Baldmoyne. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 From great Balder named, 
 The son of Odin. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Which, when steeped with hop, 
 Makes bright and brisk strong ale. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Now name me this. 
 
SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 83 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 Milkwort, or gang- flower. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Which the learned call 
 Rogation-Flower. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 And this? This is the spearmint 
 That steadies giddiness, and that the consound, 
 Whereby the lungs are eased of their grief. 
 The eyebright this, whereof, when steeped in wine, 
 I now must eat, as every learner should, 
 Because it strengthens mindfulness. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Daughter mine. 
 You have as much to teach as to be taught ; 
 Nor let new learning drive old lore away. 
 Rashly I spoke : There is a better friend, 
 A better, and a truer, even than books. 
 'Tis with us now, God's plainly written page. 
 For learned and simple, all may read who will. 
 
84 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 
 
 SCENE V 
 
 [Evening in the Forest.] 
 EDGIVA 
 
 The goldings by the brooklet all are closed. 
 'Twill soon be nightfall. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 And, like them, your lids 
 Droop on your eyes. 'Tis time for you to rest. 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 First let me smooth for you a mossy bed. 
 Under this oak. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Think not, my child, of me ; 
 For I am wakeful, and there yet is Hght 
 Whereby to read a little. But your Hmbs 
 Are fain to doff the heavy load of day. 
 And sink upon their weariness. Lie there, 
 Within the hollow of that puckered yew. 
 Whose boughs hath fashioned many a Saxon bow. 
 
SCENE V ENGLAND'S DARLING 85 
 
 EDGIVA 
 
 They say the Virgin Mother sought its shade, 
 Fleeing to Egypt ; so no bolt will smite 
 Its hallowed trunk. 
 
 [She falls asleep.] 
 ALFRED 
 
 Already doth she dream, 
 Way-weary child. 
 
 [He places a posy of cowslips in her hand.] 
 
 These sleepy cowslip bells 
 
 Will keep her dream-lids drowsy till the dawn. 
 
 ****** 
 How many hands it takes to build a State ! 
 First there be those that shape and drive the share, 
 Yoke the meek oxen, fold and milk the ewes, 
 Hunt hart and boar and buck, harpoon the whale, 
 With cunning gin and bait ensnare the fowl. 
 From well-tanned fells weave hose and bridle-thongs, 
 Pouches and hide-vats, — skilled in toil and craft. 
 Then come the worthier sort that bear the shield. 
 Fear only God, and never show their backs 
 Though faced by spears a hundredfold their own. 
 
86 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ill 
 
 Last but not least are those that watch and pray, 
 
 For under God it is we work and war. 
 
 All these there be, and they are at my side, 
 
 To fashion England. What it lacks is learning : 
 
 And o' how slow to learn is this stark stock. 
 
 Stark but unshapely, and with dullard ears 
 
 For sound and sense and soul of things unseen ! 
 
 To every Bishop in the land, when once 
 
 The Danish Raven flickers, must I send 
 
 A copy of Pope Gregory's Pastoral, 
 
 With golden seal worth fifty mancuses, 
 
 And every English boy must read and con 
 
 The Chronicle of this his cradle-land. 
 
 Growing apace and nigh upon our time, 
 
 That tells him whence he came, and what those did 
 
 Whose deeds are in his veins. But, above all, 
 
 All men must learn its minstrelsy, and lift 
 
 Their hearts above the ground on wings of song. 
 
 For Song it is that spans the mighty world. 
 
 Brings the far near, lends light where all is dark. 
 
 Gives sorrow sweetness, and helps man to live 
 
 And die more nobly ! 
 
 END OF ACT HI 
 
ACT IV 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I 
 
 [The Camp of Guthrum at Ethandune. Guthrum, Oskytel, 
 and their Jarls are feasting in Guthrum's tent.] 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 Out of the skull of the foe the mead smacks sweet. 
 Taste of it, Guthrum. 
 
 GUTHRUM (drinking) 
 
 Honey-sweet and strong ! 
 For ale-feasts is there no such land as this, 
 And now 'tis ours to brew with. Do you mind 
 The day we fired the shrine at Huntingdon, 
 And supped amid the smoke ? I see them now, 
 Lean shavelings huddled round about the shrine, 
 89 
 
90 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 Clutching the silver beakers set with gems, 
 And yielding but with life the shining robes, 
 Woven of silk and gold, that in their coffers 
 Lay thick as leaves fresh ruddled by the frost. 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 Aye, but at Lindsey was there fatter fare. 
 
 Your shrivelled friar is well enough to slay. 
 
 But worthless after slaying. Buxom maids. 
 
 To while away the weariness of peace. 
 
 And fair-haired boys to hand the mead-bowl round, 
 
 These are the boons of battle ! 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 This to Woden ! 
 Whose day will dawn with morrow ! This to Thor, 
 Who hammers out the thunder and the flash, 
 And slays the dragon ! 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 This to boar-helmed Freyr, 
 The sender of the needfire and the rain ! 
 
 [Turning to the Jarls.] 
 Why quaff you not ? 
 
SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 91 
 
 FIRST JARL 
 
 Because of Weird at hand. 
 Ask them that read the staves. This crimson-dawn, 
 The beechen sHps on the white cloth spelled out 
 The runes of death. 
 
 SECOND JARL 
 
 And the Shieldmaidens fled 
 Dim to the wood. 
 
 THIRD JARL 
 
 Aye, and the snow-white steeds, 
 Lashed to the holy chariot, neighed of doom, 
 Then reared and snorted backward to the staU. 
 
 FIRST JARL 
 
 I mind me of the day my lord me gave 
 Folkright and homestead, and I will not now 
 Hold back if need befall him, for unmeet 
 It were that I should homeward bear my shield. 
 But woeful are the lots. 
 
 SECOND JARL 
 
 I mind the time 
 I in the timbered beer-hall pledged my lord, 
 
92 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 When gave he me both helm and ring, that I 
 Would pay him back my war-gear at his need. 
 So surely will I. But the runes are foul. 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 We know it, trusty Jarls ! You all speak sooth. 
 The ebon Raven which the daughters three 
 Of Regnor Lodbrog in one morning wove 
 For Hingvar and for Hubba, will not flap 
 Its wings for war, but droopeth listlessly, 
 Forewarning rout. So will we not now fight, 
 But hang our axes on the wall till Thor 
 Shine on their faces. Meanwhile, let us feast 
 Blithe in the land we have won. 
 
 " / trust my swordy I trust my steed: 
 But most I trust myself at need.^'' 
 
 He's no true Jarl that doth not drink with me. 
 
 FOURTH JARL 
 
 An aged gleeman, with his daughter, craves 
 To cheer the night with song. His thews hang loose, 
 His back is bent like to a bow that keeps. 
 Unstrung, the bias of its former strain, 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 93 
 
 And wan as winter is his flaky hair. 
 But the unwedded helpmeet at his side, 
 A very bud of freshly-burgeoned May, 
 Vows in his voice that manhood lingers still, 
 And he can sing of war, and love, and aught 
 That's bidden of his craft. 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 Then bring him in. 
 
 SCENE II 
 
 [Alfred and Edgiva are led in, and placed, side by side, on 
 a high settle near the opening of the tent, opposite GuTH- 
 
 RUM andOSKYTEL.] 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 Give him to quaff, out of this cup of mine. 
 He'll troll the lustier if first warmed with ale. 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 Now for brave singing ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 In the Beginning when, out of darkness^ 
 The Earth, the Heaven, 
 The stars, the seasons, 
 
94 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 The mighty mainland^ 
 And whale -ploughed water. 
 By God the Maker 
 Were formed and fashionedy 
 Then God made England. 
 
 He made it shapely 
 With land-locked inlets y 
 And gray-green nesses ; 
 With rivers roaming 
 From fair-leafed forests 
 Through windless valleySy 
 Past plain and pasture y 
 To sloping shingle : 
 Thus God made England. 
 
 Then like to the long-backed bounding billows^ 
 That foam and follow 
 In rolling ridges y 
 Before and after y 
 To bluff and headlandy 
 Hither there tided 
 The loose-limbed Briton y 
 The lording Roman, 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 95 
 
 And strong on his oars the sea-borne Saxon, 
 And now the Norsemen 
 Who hard with Alfred 
 Wrestle for England. 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 How lustily he trolls ! A glee like this 
 Would stave off bane and death. 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 Look on him now ! 
 He gleams as though to-day and yesterday 
 Had with to-morrow trysted in his gaze. 
 A Seer ! A Seer ! Jarls ! Drink unto the Seer ! 
 
 JARLS 
 
 Aye, and to his fair daughter must we quaff ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 But onward and forward. 
 In far days fairer, 
 I see this England 
 Made one and mighty : 
 Mighty and master 
 Of all within it. 
 
96 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 Mighty and master 
 Of men high-seated^ 
 Of free-neeked labour , 
 Lowland and upland. 
 And corn and cattle, 
 And ploughla nd peaceful, 
 Of happy homesteads 
 That warmly nestle 
 In holt and hollow. 
 This is the Efigland, 
 In fair days forward, 
 I see and sing of 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 And who shall have this England? 
 
 JARLS 
 
 Aye, who shall have this England? 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Then^ mighty and master of all within her, 
 Of Celt and Briton, 
 Angle and Frisian, 
 Saxon and Norseman, 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 97 
 
 Shall England plough, like the whale and walrus. 
 
 The roaring ridges 
 
 Of foam-necked water, 
 
 With long-oared warships 
 And keels high-beaked ; 
 And never afoeman, 
 Eastivard or westward. 
 Shall dare to raven 
 Her salt-sea inlets, 
 Her grim gray nesses, 
 But, swift at the sight of her rearing cradles, 
 Shall scud and scatter, 
 Like wild geese fleeing 
 
 ^Twixt wave and welkin, 
 Away from the dread of the shrilling weapons 
 
 Of foam-fenced England! 
 
 OSKYTEL 
 
 But who shall have this England ? 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 Aye, who shall have this England ? 
 
 [A born sounds, and shouts are heard without. Alfred throws 
 off his disguise, stands erect in kingly garb, and, drawing 
 bis sword, exclaims: ] 
 H 
 
98 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Alfred shall have this England ! 
 Lord Christ shall have this England ! 
 
 [Edward, Ethelred, Ethelnoth, and a body of the King's 
 Thanes, rush in. Alfred disarms Guthrum, who has 
 struck at him with his battle-axe. Edward fells and 
 disarms Oskytel, and the Jarls that do not yield are slain.] 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 The Golden Dragon floats o'er Ethandune. 
 
 We broke upon the Army in its sleep, 
 
 And bound the weaponless. Those that awoke 
 
 With battle-axe in grip, the ruffled vulture, 
 
 The swarthy raven, and the sallow kite. 
 
 Are rawly tattering with their tawny nibs ; 
 
 And wealden wolves will batten on the rest. 
 
 ALFRED {to Guthrum) 
 
 Now yet again the Lord of War hath placed 
 Your life within my hands. Forfeited once, 
 I gave it back to you, when first you swore, 
 Upon our sacred tokens and your own. 
 To dwell in peace with me and mine for aye. 
 Your hostages I held : I hold you now. 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 
 
 Why should the sword not fall upon your neck? 
 
 But, since Lord Christ hath won this fight for me, 
 
 And He is pitiful, I fain would spare 
 
 And leave you free within East Anglia, 
 
 But owning me for King and Overlord, 
 
 If you can tend me tighter pledge than that 
 
 Forsworn and broken. 
 
 GUTHRUM 
 
 Bind me, an you will. 
 To Christ your King, who henceforth shall be mine. 
 For He is mightier than our Gods, as you 
 Are mightier than our Vikings ! 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Henceforth, then, 
 Live, like to us, at peace within this land, 
 Our brothers, not our bane ; our were-gild yours, 
 Our foe your foe, our feud your feud, and you, 
 No less than we, English in name and heart. 
 Up from the mouth of Thames along the Lea 
 To where the Ouse leads on to Wathng Street 
 Hold you the land, but at my bidding still 
 If need should rise. Beyond, is Mercia ; 
 
 99 
 
100 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 
 
 Which Ethelred, my sister's trusty lord, 
 Under my rod will rule. You, Ethelnoth, 
 Rebuild and strengthen London, and make good 
 Our name along the twistings of the Thames ; 
 While Werefrith, helped by Plegmund, shall renew 
 God's House at Winchester. Thanes, Freemen, 
 
 Friends, 
 Let each one strive to quit him worthily. 
 For me, I have no other wish on earth, 
 Save to leave long remembrance after me 
 Of something done for England ! 
 
 OSKYTEL {gazing hard on Edgiva, who is standing by 
 
 Edward) 
 What is this token, wound about your wrist ? 
 Are you Sweyne's daughter ? my dead comrade's child, 
 Whom we left, motherless, within the fork 
 Of a high wychelm, thinking soon to fetch 
 Her safely from that cradle, on the day 
 That Ethelwulf and Wulfheard, Saxon Thanes, 
 Beset our Jarls, and over the White Horse 
 Drove us in headlong rout across the stream. 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 Noble I knew her ! 
 
SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 101 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Nobly wed her then ! 
 And when God calls me to Himself, for men 
 Know not how long or little they will stay, 
 May offspring worthy of your fair love and you, 
 Saxon with Dane, hand down the English Throne ! 
 
 ETHELRED {bursting into the tent) 
 Great news, my Lord ! The ships you bade us build 
 Full nigh on twice the length of pagan esks, 
 At Swanage on the robber swan-necks rode, 
 And wedged them through the waves. Their splin- 
 tered planks 
 Are weltering with the seaweed ; their snapped oars, 
 Like to their carcases, the gurgling ooze 
 Sucks down, then belches forth again, to rot 
 Upon the brackish furrows of the brine. 
 
 ALFRED 
 
 Now praised be God ! for this is news indeed, 
 And Swanage crowns us more than Ethandune. 
 In this strong Isle sequestered by the sea 
 From tread outlandish, victory upon ground 
 Our own to keep or lose, is half defeat ; 
 
102 ENGLAND^S DARLING act iv 
 
 For why on English soil should foe's foot stand? 
 The battlemented Sea will beat him off, 
 So we but man it, and our bounding prows 
 Scatter him flying deathward o'er the foam, 
 Like loose leaves harried by autumnal wind. 
 Aye, and in those bright bodings that high Heaven 
 Vouchsafes at times to man, my ken foresees 
 That, once this land inviolably free 
 From threat without, its billow-suckled breed. 
 Yearning beyond the narrow bonds of birth, 
 Wherever shine the stars or rolls the tide. 
 Will lay their lordship on the waves, and be 
 Rulers and rovers of the widening world. 
 
 ALL 
 
 Long live Alfred I 
 Long rule Alfred! 
 England's Comfort, 
 England's Shepherd, 
 England's Oarsman, 
 England's Darling I 
 
 END OF ACT IV 
 
THE PASSING OF MERLIN 
 
 The following Poem appeared in The Times of October 7th 
 1892, and is now republished, with the permission of the Pro- 
 prietors of that Journal. 
 
THE PASSING OF MERLIN 
 
 I am Merlin, 
 
 And I am dying, 
 
 I am Merlin 
 
 Who follow The Gleam. 
 
 TENNYSON'S Merlin and The Gleam. 
 
 I 
 
 Merlin has gone — has gone ! — and through the land 
 The melancholy message wings its way ; 
 To careless-ordered garden by the bay, 
 Back o'er the narrow strait to island strand, 
 Where Camelot looks down on wild Broceliand. 
 
 n 
 
 Merlin has gone, Merhn the Wizard who found, 
 In the Past's glimmering tide, and hailed him King, 
 Arthur, great Uther's son, and so did sing 
 The mystic glories of the Table Round, 
 That ever its name will live so long as Song shall sound. 
 los 
 
io6 THE PASSING OF MERLIN 
 
 m 
 
 Merlin has gone, Merlin who followed the Gleam, 
 
 And made us follow it ; the flying tale 
 
 Of the Last Tournament, the Holy Grail, 
 
 And Arthur's Passing ; till the Enchanter's dream 
 
 Dwells with us still awake, no visionary theme. 
 
 IV 
 
 To-day is dole in Astolat, and dole 
 In Celidon the forest, dole and tears. 
 In joyous Gard blackhooded lean the spears : 
 The nuns of Almesbury sound a mournful toll. 
 And Guinevere kneeling weeps, and prays for Mer- 
 lin's soul. 
 
 A wailing cometh from the shores that veil 
 Avilion's island valley ; on the mere, 
 Looms through the mist and wet winds weeping blear 
 A dusky barge, which, without oar or sail, 
 Fades to the far-off fields where falls nor snow nor 
 hail. 
 
THE PASSING OF MERLIN 107 
 
 VI 
 
 Of all his wounds He will be healed now, 
 Wounds of harsh time and vulnerable life, 
 Fatigue of rest and weariness of strife, 
 Doubt and the long deep questionings that plough 
 The forehead of age, but bring no harvest to the 
 brow. 
 
 vn 
 
 And there He will be comforted ; but we 
 Must watch, like Bedivere, the dwindling hght 
 That slowly shrouds Him darkling from our sight. 
 From the great deep to the great deep hath He 
 Passed, and, if now He knows, is mute eternally. 
 
 VIII 
 
 From Somersby's ivied tower there sinks and swells 
 A low slow peal, that mournfully is rolled 
 Over the long gray fields and glimmering wold. 
 To where, 'twixt sandy tracts and moorland fells, 
 Remembers Locksley Hall his musical farewells. 
 
lo8 THE PASSING OF MERLIN 
 
 IX 
 
 And many a sinewy youth on Cam to-day 
 Suspends the dripping oar and lets his boat 
 Like dreaming water-lily drift and float, 
 While murmuring to himself the undying lay 
 That haunts the babbhng Wye and Severn's dirgeful 
 bay. 
 
 X 
 
 The bole of the broad oak whose knotted knees 
 Lie hidden in the fern of Sumner Place, 
 Feels stirred afresh, as when Olivia's face 
 Lay warm against its rind, though now it sees 
 Not Love but Death approach, and shivers in the 
 breeze. 
 
 XI 
 
 In many a vicarage garden, dense with age, 
 The haunt of pairing throstles, many a grange 
 Moated against the assault and siege of change. 
 Fair eyes consult anew the cherished Sage, 
 And now and then a tear falls blistering the page. 
 
THE PASSING OF MERLIN 109 
 
 xn 
 
 April will blossom again, again will ring 
 With cuckoo's call and yaffel's flying scream, 
 And in veiled sleep the nightingale will dream, 
 Warbling as if awake. But what will bring 
 His sweet note back ? He mute, it scarcely will be 
 Spring. 
 
 xm 
 
 The Seasons sorrow for Him, and the Hours 
 Droop, like to bees belated in the rain. 
 The unmoving shadow of a pensive pain 
 Lies on the lawn and lingers on the flowers. 
 And sweet and sad seem one in woodbine-woven 
 bowers. 
 
 XIV 
 
 In English gardens fringed with English foam, 
 Or girt with English woods. He loved to dwell. 
 Singing of English lives in thorp or dell. 
 Orchard or croft ; so that, when now we roam 
 Through them, and find Him not, it scarcely feels like 
 home. 
 
no THE PASSING OF MERLIN 
 
 XV 
 
 And England's glories stirred Him as the swell 
 
 Of bluff winds blowing from Atlantic brine 
 
 Stirs mightier music in the murmuring pine. 
 
 Then sweet notes waxed too strong within his shell, 
 
 And bristling rose the lines, and billowy rose and fell. 
 
 XVI 
 
 So England mourns for Merlin, though its tears 
 Flow not from bitter source that wells in vain. 
 But kindred rather to the rippling rain 
 That brings the daffodil sheath and jonquil spears 
 When Winter weeps away and April reappears. 
 
 xvn 
 
 For never hath England lacked a voice to sing 
 Her fairness and her fame, nor will she now. 
 Silence awhile may brood upon the bough, 
 But shortly once again the Isle will ring 
 With wakening winds of March and rhapsodies of 
 Spring. 
 
THE PASSING OF MERLIN in 
 
 xvm 
 
 From Arthur unto Alfred, Alfred crowned 
 Monarch and Minstrel both, to Edward's day, 
 From Edward to Elizabeth, the lay 
 Of valour and love hath never ceased to sound, 
 But Song and Sword are twin, indissolubly bound. 
 
 XEX 
 
 Nor shall in Britain Taliessin tire 
 
 Transmitting through his stock the sacred strain. 
 
 When fresh renown prolongs Victoria's Reign, 
 
 Some patriot hand will sweep the living lyre, 
 
 And prove, with native notes, that Merlin was his sire. 
 
 THE END 
 
THE POETICAL WORKS 
 
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OTHER WORKS 
 
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 THE GARDEN THAT I LOVE. 
 
 WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 Extra Crown 8vo. Price, $2.50. 
 
 TIMES. — " It is a description in lucid and graceful prose of an old-fash- 
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 its owners and their guests, and enriched with occasional verse. Mr. Austin, 
 who is greatly to be envied the possession of this delightful garden, and not 
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 Lyrics, Mr. William Watson writes: 'A nobly filial love of country, and 
 a tenderly passionate love of the country — these appear to me the two 
 dominant notes of this volume ' ; and in the new volume that has just 
 appeared, the same dominant notes recur again and again. In his poems 
 Mr. Austin has described Spring's youthful face, where sunny smiles chase 
 away the fleeting tears ; Summer's serene rose-tinted beauty; the matured 
 brilliance of Autumn; and the withered homeliness of Winter; and now he 
 takes his readers behind the scenes, as it were, and shows them an ideal 
 country-house with its heavy mullioned windows looking towards the morn- 
 ing and noontide sun, and its gabled front almost smothered in climbing 
 roses and creepers. , . . The Garden that I Love is sure of a large and 
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OTHER WORKS 
 
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 TIMES. — " Although sequels and continuations are proverbially perilous 
 undertakings, we have little doubt that Mr. Alfred Austin's readers will 
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 garden is richer and more luxuriant, and its owner's or creator's love for it is 
 more intense, than ever, and the illustrations with which the volume is 
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 love for and delight in it. The * friends in council ' whose colloquies enliven 
 the garden and give an air of cultured refinement to Mr. Austin's pages are 
 also the same as before, though their relationships are somewhat different. 
 Veronica is now the wife of the Poet, while the anonymous gardener and the 
 winsome Lamia appear to revolve somewhat erratically around this domestic 
 centre. In both cases Mr. Austin blends in very delightful fashion his love 
 of flowers and of simple rural delights with his love of gentle thoughts and 
 gracious converse." 
 
 GUARDIAN. — "^It. Austin has done well to follow up The Garden 
 that I Love by In Veronica's Garde7i. It is really a second volume of 
 the same work, and not only presupposes that the reader has read the first 
 by frequent references to it, but is written on exactly the same lines, with 
 the same dramatis per sonce, the same quiet humour, and the same mixture 
 of gardening, poetry, and moralising that made The Garden that I Love 
 such pleasant reading. In one respect only can we trace any difference : 
 the garden is still the central point of the book, but there is less of gardening 
 in it, and more of moralisings and short essays ; still the moralisings come in 
 very naturally, and the essays, though short, are always to the point. There 
 is the same healthy tone in this second volume that there was in the first; the 
 same love of the country in all its aspects." 
 
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ENGLISH LYRICS* 
 
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 POEMS OF ALFRED AUSTIN, 
 
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 By WILLIAM WATSON. 
 
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 " A nobly filial love of Country, and a tenderly passionate love 
 of the country — these appear to me the two dominant notes of this 
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 but it seems fated that the things themselves should be found present 
 together or together absent. . . . Our literature prior to Lord 
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 enthusiasm of nationality underlying an intimate and affectionate 
 knowledge of every bird that makes an English summer melodious, 
 and every flower that sweetens English air ; and it seems to me that 
 if the question be asked, ' Who among the poets of a later genera- 
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 in this double sense English through and through ? ' any competent 
 person trying to answer the question honestly will find the name of 
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 countries with a keenness only possible in natures which present a 
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