The Visions of England | Page 5

news of whence and whither,

And where the Soul may dwell:--
If on that outer darkness
The sun of Hope may shine;--
He makes life worth the living!
I take his God for mine!'
So spake the wise old warrior;
And all about him cried
'Paulinus' God hath conquer'd!
And he shall he our guide:--
For he makes life worth living,
Who brings this message plain,--
When our brief days are over,
That we shall live again.'
Paulinus was one of the four missionaries sent form Rome by Gregory
the Great in 601. The marriage of Edwin, King of Northumbria, with
Ethelburga, sister to Eadbald of Kent, opened Paulinus' way to northern
England. Bede, born less than fifty years after, has given an admirable
narrative of Edwin's conversion: which is very completely told in
Bright's Early English Church History, B. IV.
Deira, (from old-Welsh deifr, waters), then comprised Eastern
Yorkshire from Tees to Humber. Goodmanham, where the meeting
described was held, is some 23 miles from York.
ALFRED THE GREAT
849-901
1
The fair-hair'd boy is at his mother's knee,
A many-colour'd page before them spread,
Gay summer harvest-field
of gold and red,
With lines and staves of ancient minstrelsy.
But
through her eyes alone the child can see,

From her sweet lips partake the words of song,
And looks as one who
feels a hidden wrong,
Or gazes on some feat of gramarye.
'When
thou canst use it, thine the book!' she cried:
He blush'd, and clasp'd it
to his breast with pride:--
'Unkingly task!' his comrades cry; In vain;
All work ennobles
nobleness, all art,
He sees; Head governs hand; and in his heart
All knowledge for his province he has ta'en.
2
Few the bright days, and brief the fruitful rest,
As summer-clouds that o'er the valley flit:--
To other tasks his genius
he must fit;
The Dane is in the land, uneasy guest!
--O sacred
Athelney, from pagan quest
Secure, sole haven for the faithful boy
Waiting God's issue with
heroic joy
And unrelaxing purpose in the breast!
The Dragon and
the Raven, inch by inch,
For England fight; nor Dane nor Saxon
flinch;
Then Alfred strikes his blow; the realm is free:--
He, changing at the
font his foe to friend,
Yields for the time, to gain the far-off end,
By moderation doubling victory.
O much-vex'd life, for us too short, too dear!
The laggard body lame behind the soul;
Pain, that ne'er marr'd the
mind's serene control;
Breathing on earth heaven's aether atmosphere,

God with thee, and the love that casts out fear!
A soul in life's salt ocean guarding sure
The freshness of youth's
fountain sweet and pure,
And to all natural impulse crystal-clear:


To service or command, to low and high
Equal at once in
magnanimity,
The Great by right divine thou only art!
Fair star, that crowns the
front of England's morn,
Royal with Nature's royalty inborn,
And English to the very heart of heart!
The fair-hair'd boy: There is a singular unanimity among historians in
regard to this 'darling of the English,' whose life has been vividly
sketched by Freeman (Conquest, ch. ii); by Green (English People, B. I:
ch. iii); and, earlier, by my Father in his short _History of the
Anglo-Saxons_, ch. vi-viii.
Changing at the font: Alfred was godfather to Guthrun the Dane, when
baptized after his defeat at Ethandune in 878.
A DANISH BARROW
ON THE EAST DEVON COAST
Lie still, old Dane, below thy heap!
--A sturdy-back and sturdy-limb,
Whoe'er he was, I warrant him

Upon whose mound the single sheep
Browses and tinkles in the sun,
Within the narrow vale alone.
Lie still, old Dane! This restful scene
Suits well thy centuries of sleep:
The soft brown roots above thee
creep,
The lotus flaunts his ruddy sheen,
And,--vain memento of the spot,--
The turquoise-eyed forget-me-not.
Lie still!--Thy mother-land herself
Would know thee not again: no more
The Raven from the northern

shore
Hails the bold crew to push for pelf,
Through fire and blood and slaughter'd kings,
'Neath the black terror
of his wings.
And thou,--thy very name is lost!
The peasant only knows that here
Bold Alfred scoop'd thy flinty bier,

And pray'd a foeman's prayer, and tost
His auburn, head, and said 'One more
Of England's foes guards
England's shore,'
And turn'd and pass'd to other feats,
And left thee in thine iron robe,
To circle with the circling globe,

While Time's corrosive dewdrop eats
The giant warrior to a crust
Of earth in earth, and rust in rust.
So lie: and let the children play
And sit like flowers upon thy grave,
And crown with flowers,--that
hardly have
A briefer blooming-tide than they;--
By hurrying years borne on to rest,
As thou, within the Mother's
breast.
HASTINGS
October 14: 1066
'Gyrth, is it dawn in the sky that I see? or is all the sky blood? Heavy
and sore was the fight in the North: yet we fought for the good. O
but--Brother 'gainst brother!--'twas hard!--Now I come with a will To
baste the false bastard of France, the hide of the tanyard and