Iv

Ill were it in my rhyme to tell The work of slaughter that befell; In sooth it was a savage time-- Crime ever will engender crime. Each Viking, as he swam to land, Fell by a Saxon's vengeful hand; Turn we from all that vengeance wild-- Where on the deck there cowered a child, And, closely to his bosom prest, A snow-white kitten found a nest. That tender boy, with tresses fair, Was Edric, Egbert's cherished heir; The plaything of the homestead he, Now fondled on his grandame's knee; Or as beside the hearth he sat, Oft sporting with his snow-white cat; Now by the chaplain taught to read, And lisp his Pater and his Creed; Well nurtured at his mother's side, And by his father trained to ride, To speak the truth, to draw the bow, And all an English Thane should know, His days had been as one bright dream-- As smooth as his own river's stream! Until, at good King Alfred's call, Thane Egbert left his native hall.