RG SIXTH EVENING.

Gandelin. Let him watch these cakes, then ; 1 must
go and milk the kine.

Gubba. And VU go and stack the wood, since
supper is not ready. |

Gandelin. But pray, observe, friend! do not let the
eakes burr; turn them often on the hearth.

Alfred. 1 shall observe your directions.

ALFRED, alone. |

Alfred. For myself, I could bear it; but England,
my bleeding country, for thee my heart is wrung with
bitter anguish !—From the Humber to the Thames
ile rivers are stained with blood My brave soldiers
cut to pieces!—My poor people—some massacred,
others driven from their warm homes, stripped, abused,
insulted ;—and I, whom Heaven appointed their shep-
herd, unable to rescue my defenceless flock from the
ravenous jaws of these devourers !—Gracious Heaven,
if I am not worthy to save this land from the Danish
sword, raise up some other hero to fight with more
success than I have done, and let me spend my life in
this obscure cottage, in these servile offices! I shall
be content, if Engls ad be happy.

O! here come my blunt host and hostess.

 

‘inter GUBBA and GANDELIN.

Gandelin. Welp me down with the pail, husband.
This new milk, with the cakes, will make an excellent
supper ; but, mercy on us, how they are burnt! black
as my shoe! they have not once been turned; you
_oaf, you lubber, you lazy loon— |

Alfred. Indeed, dame, I am sorry for it; but my
mind was full of sad thoughts.

Gubba. Come, wife, you must forgive him ; perhaps
he isinlove. I remember when I was in love with
thee— ,

Gandelin. You remember!

Gubba. Yes, dame, I do remember it, though it is
many a long year since: my mother was makine a
kettle of furmety— ~