Classic Poem

FROM THE Dialogues OF A ELFRIC .

I .

What sayest thou, Earthling? how dost thou do thy work?

Alack! my Lord! when winter morns are mirk,
Hard do I work!
At break of day I drive my team afield,
My whip I wield:
And find my plough beneath yon wintry oak,
And there I yoke:
For ne'er may I, through bitter frost or gloom,
Be found at home!
But with my oxen yoked, must straight abroad,
Fearing my Lord:
Ay, every day, with sweat of my bent brow,
His land must plough,
An acre's space or more; sleet, frost, fierce sun,
Ere day be done!

II .

What sayest thou, Earthling? what fellow goes with thee?

A boy I have, that fares abroad with me:
Stout must he be,
That all day long, must with his iron goad
Lighten my load:
And drive the oxen on with many a dag,
Lest they should flag.
Deep in the furrows may his feet be mired,
Poor thing, soon tired,
And hungered long, ere with a bite of bread
His mouth is fed, —
An hour ere noon! Then must he stiffly start,
To do his part;
And hoarse his voice with shouting and with cold,
Ere day is old!
III .

What sayest thou, Earthling? is this all thy task!

Alack, my Lord! well mayest thou wish to ask,
Hard is my task!
And verily, it is not ended all,
When night may fall.
Then, when my team once more is driven in,
I fill the bin
With hay, and feed and water them: ay, marry!
And out must carry
The mire they make! At last these eyes may see
What cheer may be
Within my hut: to end there, boy and man,
As we began.
Ha! Ha! Hard work it is! Hard work it is!
And worse, I wis! —
And hard and harder in my age shall be,
Because I am not free!