Page:Passions 2.pdf/215

Rh

To see him yelling o'er thee as his prey? Bearing aloft his dark and hideous form; Grinding his horrid jaws and darting on thee Ah! think'st thou, Thane, That many gifts, ay, half of all thou'rt worth Would dearly purchase safety from such terrours?

''Wog. (in a quick perturbed voice.)'' I have the plunder of two neighb'ring chiefs, Whom I surpris'd within their towers and slew; I'll give you all—if that suffices not I'll fall upon a third, ay tho' it were My next of kin, nor spare of all his goods One fragment for myself. O holy fathers! I humbly crave saintly protection of you.

Hex. Nay, Woggarwolfe, on shrines of holy saints No gift e'er works with efficacious power By force and violence gain'd; unless, indeed, It be the spoil of some unsaintly Thane, Some faithless wizard or foul heretic. Thou hast a neighbour, impious Ethelbert; To burn his towers and consecrate his spoils, O'er all thy sins would cast a sacred robe, On which nor fiend nor devil durst fix a fang. But now thou lackest strength for such a work, And may'st be dead ere thou hast time to do it; Therefore I counsel thee, give up thy lands.