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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"

They were clad in no holiday raiment, not even Folk-
might, but were in sheep-brown gear of the coarsest, like to
husbandmen late come from the plough, but armed well and goodly.
But when the twain drew near, the men clashed their spears on their
shields, and cried out for joy of them, for they all knew what Face-
of-god's presence there betokened of fellowship with the kindreds;
but Folk-might came forward and took Face-of-god's hand and greeted
him and said:
'Hail, son of the Alderman! Here hast thou come into the ancient
abode of chieftains and warriors, and belike deeds await thee also.'
Yet his brow was knitted as he said these words, and he spake slowly,
as one that constraineth himself; but presently his face cleared
somewhat and he said:
'Dalesman, it behoveth thy people to bestir them if ye would live and
see good days. Hath my sister told thee what is toward? Or what
sayest thou?'
'Hail to thee, son of the Wolf!' said Face-of-god. 'Thy sister hath
told me all; and even if these Dusky Felons were not our foe-men
also, yet could I have my way, we should have given thee all help,
and should have brought back peace and good days to thy folk.


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