Screaming, the woman caught a cake Yet burning from the bar,And struck him suddenly on the face, Leaving a scarlet scar.
King Alfred stood up wordless, A man dead with surprise,And torture stood and the evil thingsThat are in the childish hearts of kings An instant in his eyes.
And even as he stood and stared Drew round him in the duskThose friends creeping from far-off farms,Marcus with all his slaves in arms,And the strange spears hung with ancient charms Of Colan of the Usk.
With one whole farm marching afoot The trampled road resounds,Farm-hands and farm-beasts blundering byAnd jars of mead and stores of rye,Where Eldred strode above his high And thunder-throated hounds;
And grey cattle and silver lowed Against the unlifted morn,And straw clung to the spear-shafts tall,
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