Chapter XXX: Part IV: Wherein King Alfred Blows His Bugle-Horn

But, to be brief, to bed they went
The old man and his wife;
But never such a lodging had
King Alfred in his life!

For he was laid in white sheep’s wool,
New-pulled from tanned fells;
And o’er his head hanged spiders’ webs
As if they had been bells.

“Is this the country guise?” thought he,
“Then here I will not stay,
But hence be gone, as soon as breaks
The peeping of next day!”

The cackling hens and geese kept roost,
And perched at his side;
Where, at the last, the watchful cock
Made known the morning tide.

Then up got Alfred, with his horn,
And blew so long a blast,
That it made Gillian and her groom,
In bed, full sore aghast.

“Arise,” quoth she, “We are undone!
This night we lodged have,
At unawares, within our house,
A false dissembling knave.

“Rise! husband, rise! he’ll cut our throats!
He calleth for his mates.
I’d give, old Will, our good cade lamb,
He would depart our gates!”

But still King Alfred blew his horn,
Before them, more and more,
Till that an hundred Lords and Knights
All lighted at the door.

Who cried, “All hail! all hail, good King!
Long have we sought your Grace!”
“And here you find, my merry men all,
Your Sov’reign in this place.”

“We surely must be hanged up both,
Old Gillian, I much fear,”
The Shepherd said, “for using thus,
Our good King Alfred here.”

“Oh, pardon, my Liege!” quoth Gillian then,
“For my husband, and for me.
By these ten bones, I never thought
The same that now I see!”

“And by my hook,” the Shepherd said,
“An oath both good and true!
Before this time, O noble King,
I ne’er your Highness knew!

“Then pardon me and my old wife,
That we may after say,
When first you came into our house,
It was a happy day.”

“It shall be done,” said Alfred straight,
“And Gillian, thy old dame,
For this her churlish using me,
Deserveth not much blame;

“For ’tis thy country guise, I see,
To be thus bluntish still,
And where the plainest meaning is,
Remains the smallest ill.

“And, Master, lo! I tell thee now;
For thy late manhood shown,
A thousand wethers I’ll bestow
Upon thee, for thy own;

“And pasture-ground, as much as will
Suffice to feed them all:
And this thy cottage, I will change
Into a stately hall.”

“And for the same, as duty binds,”
The Shepherd said, “good King,
A milk-white lamb, once ev’ry year,
I’ll to your Highness bring:

“And Gillian, my wife, likewise,
Of wool to make you coats,
Will give you as much at New Year’s tide,
As shall be worth ten groats.

“And in your praise my bag-pipes shall
Sound sweetly once a year,
How Alfred, our renowned King,
Most kindly hath been here.”

“Thanks, Shepherd, thanks,” quoth he again:
“The next time I come hither,
My Lords with me, here in this house,
Will all be merry together.”

SAD GESTES

THE SANDS OF DEE

_“O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee;”
The western wind was wild and dank wi’ foam,
And all alone went she._

_The western tide crept up along the sand.
And o’er and o’er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land--
And never home came she._

_“Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--
A tress o’ golden hair,
A drowned maiden’s hair
Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee.”_

_They rowed her in across the rolling foam.
The cruel crawling foam.
The cruel hungry foam
To her grave beside the sea:
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee!_

_Charles Kingsley_

FAIR ANNY OF ROCH-ROYAL