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.

V

Then, five days later, shout and yell,
And shrieks and howls of slaughter fell,
Upon the peaceful homestead came.
'Mid flashing sword, and axe, and flame,
Snatched by a Viking's iron grasp,
From his slain mother's dying clasp,
Saved from the household's flaming grave,
Edric was dragged, a destined slave,
Some northern dame to serve, or heed
The flocks that on the Saeter feed.
Still, with scarce conscious hold he clung
To the white cat, that closely hung
Seeking her refuge in his arm,
Her shelter in the wild alarm--