As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.
An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,
And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.
‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,
Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’
“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,
But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.
The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,
And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.
Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,