And many an eve when the clouds are drifting
Down through the Dale till they dim the roof,
Shall they tell in the Hall of the Maiden's Lifting,
And how we drave the spoil aloof.
They sing together.
Over the moss through the wind and the weather,
Through the morn and the eve and the death of the day,
Wend we man and maid together,
For out of the waste is born the fray.
Then the Sun-beam spake to Gold-mane softly, and told him how this
song was made by a minstrel concerning a foray in the early days of
their first abode in Shadowy Vale, and how in good sooth a maiden led
the fray and was the captain of the warriors:
'Erst,' she said, 'this was counted as a wonder; but now we are so
few that it is no wonder though the women will do whatsoever they
may.'
So they talked, and Gold-mane was very happy; but ere the good-night
cup was drunk, Folk-might spake to Face-of-god and said:
'It were well that ye rose betimes in the morning: but thou shalt
not go back by the way thou camest. Wood-wise and another shall go
with thee, and show thee a way across the necks and the heaths, which
is rough enough as far as toil goes, but where thy life shall be
safer; and thereby shalt thou hit the ghyll of the Weltering Water,
and so come down safely into Burgdale.
Pages:
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222