Seldom folk fewer to fight-stead hath fared;
Ne'er have men truer the battle-reed bared.
Grey locks now I carry, and old am I grown,
Nor looked I to tarry to meet with mine own.
For we who remember the deeds of old days
Were nought but the ember of battle ablaze.
For what man might aid us? what deed and what day
Should come where Weird laid us aloof from the way?
What man save that other of Twain rent apart,
Our war-friend, our Brother, the piece of our heart.
Then hearken the wonder how shield beside shield
The twain that did sunder wend down to the Field!'
Now when he had made an end, men could no longer forebear the shout;
and it went up into the heavens, and was borne by the west-wind down
the Dale to the ears of the stay-at-home women and men unmeet to go
abroad, and it quickened their blood and the spirits within them as
they heard it, and they smiled and were fain; for they knew that
their kinsfolk were glad.
But when there was quiet on the Mote-field again, Folk-might spake
again and said;
'It is sooth that my Brother sayeth, and that now again we wend,
All the Sons of the Wolf together, till the trouble hath an end.
Pages:
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466