Up across windy wastes and up Went Alfred over the shaws, Shaken of the joy of giants, The joy without a cause.In the slopes away to the western bays, Where blows not ever a tree, He washed his soul in the west wind And his body in the sea. And he set to rhyme his ale-measures, And he sang aloud his laws, Because of the joy of the giants, The joy without a cause.The King went gathering Wessex men, As grain out of the chaff The few that were alive to die, Laughing, as littered skulls that lie After lost battles turn to the sky An everlasting laugh.
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