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Among the names renowned for wisdom and valor, there is none greater then that of King Alfred, the Saxon. During the reign of this renowned monarch, in the year 878, the Danes had completely established their power, [Danelaw], and King Alfred, with a remnant of his nobles, was compelled to seek shelter in desolate marshes and woods, in the west of England. Alfred himself was sheltered in the hut of a poor peasant. Here the king learned many lessons, the chief being a kindly consideration of, and esteem for, the common people. He found love in the huts where poor men lived.
It was while in deep meditation on the condition of his kingdom, groaning under the invader, and he, its king, a wanderer, in peril of his life, that, the neatherd’s wife having left her cakes of bread to bake in the hot ashes before the fire, Alfred let them burn, and the housewife, returning, is said to have scolded him in her broad Somersetshire dialect.
“Ca’s to thee mind the keaks, man, and dozen zee ‘em burn;
I’m boun’ these eat ‘em vast enough, az zoon az tiz thee turn.”
Alfred found means to make known to his adherents the place of his retreat, and in the five months he staid there he developed a plan. An army was gathered, and he resolved to attack the Danes at their headquarters, and break their power, and, if possible, drive them out of his kingdom.
Guthrum, the Dane, was in his camp, rejoicing in his success, with his chieftains, who had now become insolent with prosperity. While they are feasting and rioting the sound of a harp is heard. The harper has been through the camp singing his lays, and now he is called to the chiefs. The disguised monarch drew near. The invaders listened, applauded, and drank! Alfred used his eyes, noted the strength, and assuredly, the weakness also, of his foes. He saw the swinish stupidity of intemperance. Undiscovered he left the camp and the revelers. The next day the victory of Eddington was gained, a victory so great that the foreigners had to quit Wessex without striking another blow. Alfred’s kingdom was recovered, never again to be lost by him.
Alfred not only conquered his foes in battle, but he was great in the arts of peace. He brought the country into order, and enacted laws. He determined to overcome ignorance, and gave the example of study to his nobles by setting himself to learn the Latin language, though he was then thirty-nine years of age. He died at the age of fifty-nine leaving his kingdom fortified all around the coast, endowed with good laws, and the means of wholesome training in learning and piety. Few things in ancient poetry are so beautiful as King Alfred’s advice to his son, written shortly before his death.
“My dear son, come near
Sit thee beside, and I will teach thee here.
I feel my hour is well nigh come, my son:
My face is white, my days be almost done.
Soon we must part; I to another throne,
And thou in all my state must stand alone.
I pray thee – for, mine own dear child, thou art
Lord of this people – play their father’s part;
Be thou the orphan’s sire, the widow’s friend;
Comfort the poor man and the weak defend.
With all thy might,
Succor the right,
And be thou strong
Against the wrong.
And, my son, by law thyself restrain;
So God shall be thy guide and glorious gain.
Call thou for help on him in every need,
And he shall give thee greatly to succeed.”
THE END
“Alfred in the Danish Camp”
Copyright © Feb. 2005, Gregory J. Christiano
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