King Alfred and the Peasant Woman

Completion written by Anna Wickham

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Throw me from the house — did he?
Well, to new chivalry that is no great thing!
I am my father’s daughter, lady!
And he’s a pretty figure in the ring.

But my man, my master, there he sat a-dreaming
While all the house might burn and he’d not sorrow;
Nor had I any warrant that his scheming
Would bring us any victory on the morrow.

And I spoke to him! Oh, I informed him!
He’d be a dead man if he were not stung;
Could any man keep hands down, and me lashing?
Friend, you insult my tongue!
 
I’d rather he fought me than missed his combats,
Though I’m not built for blows upon the heart.
Give me a breast-plate, and I’ll at ’em,
Though that’s fool-woman’s part!
 
I love him; and when he comes back with honour
After the fight I drove him to is won,
He’ll find his woman with her glory on her.
Please God, the child’s a son!

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