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‹Better GutenbergStory-Telling BalladsKing Alfred and the Shepherd — Part I — Wherein King Alfred Fights… · 73 of 141Contents›

Story-Telling Ballads

by Frances Jenkins Olcott

73 of 141 · Contents · Download EPUB

King Alfred and the Shepherd

Part I Wherein King Alfred Fights for His Dinner

In elder time there was of yore,
  When gibes of churlish glee
Were used among our country carles,
  Tho’ no such thing now be:

The which King Alfred liking well,
  Forsook his stately Court,
And in disguise unknown went forth
  To see that jovial sport;

How Dick and Tom in clouted shoon,
  And coats of russet grey,
Esteemed themselves more brave than them
  That went in golden ray.

In garments fit for such a life
  The good King Alfred went,
Ragged and torn as from his back
  The beggar his clothes had rent.

A sword and buckler good and strong,
  To give Jack Sauce a rap;
And on his head, instead of a crown,
  He wore a Monmouth cap.

Thus coasting thorough Somersetshire:
  Near Newton-Court he met
A shepherd swain of lusty limb,
  That up and down did jet:

He wore a bonnet of good grey,
  Close-buttoned to his chin;
And at his back a leather scrip,
  With much good meat therein.

“God speed, good Shepherd,” quoth the King
  “I come to be thy guest,
To taste of thy good victuals here,
  And drink that’s of the best.

“Thy scrip, I know hath cheer good store”:
  “What then?” the Shepherd said,
“Thou seem’st to be some sturdy thief,
  And mak’st me sore afraid.

“Yet if thou wilt thy dinner win,
  Thy sword and buckler take:
And, if thou canst, into my scrip
  Therewith an entrance make.

“I tell thee, roister, it hath store
  Of beef and bacon fat,
With sheaves of barley-bread to make
  Thy chaps to water at!

“Here stands my bottle, here my bag,
  If thou canst win them, roister;
Against thy sword and buckler here,
  My sheep-hook is my master.”

“Benedicite!” quoth our good King
  “It never shall be said,
That Alfred, of the Shepherd’s hook,
  Will stand a whit afraid.”

So foundly thus they both fell to ‘t,
  And giving bang for bang;
At ev’ry blow the Shepherd gave
  King Alfred’s sword cried twang!

His buckler proved his chiefest fence;
  For still the Shepherd’s hook
Was that the which King Alfred could
  In no good manner brook.

At last, when they had fought four hours,
  And it grew just midday,
And wearied both, with right good will,
  Desired each other’s stay:

“A truce, I crave,” quoth Alfred then
  “Good Shepherd, hold thy hand,
A sturdier fellow than thyself
  Lives not within the land!”

“Nor a lustier roister than thou art,”
  The churlish Shepherd said;
“To tell thee plain, thy thievish look
  Now makes my heart afraid.

“Else sure thou art some prodigal,
  Which hast consumed thy store,
And now com’st wand’ring in this place
  To rob and steal for more.”

“Deem not of me, then,” quoth our King,
  “Good Shepherd, in this sort.
A gentleman well known I am
  In good King Alfred’s Court.”

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