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 POEMS BY THE WAY
 
 Longmans' Pocket Library 
 
 Price per Volume, 2- net in Cloth; 3- net in Leather 
 
 K. ANs'n:v. 
 
 Voces Populi : First Series. 
 
 With 20 llliistrations by J. 1'frnard Partridge. 
 
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 In 5 volumes. {Se^Af se/aritie/y.) 
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 :; vols. (Sold se/<arately) Greek Text — English Translation. 
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 Deutsche Liebe (German Love). 
 
 Fr.Tgm nts from the Papers of an Ahen. With Portrait. 
 WILLIAM MORRIS. 
 
 The Life and Death of Jason. A Poem. 
 
 Poems by the Way. 
 CARDINAL NEWMAN. 
 
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 University Teaching. 
 
 Apologia Pro Vita Sua. (Cl< )lh, 2/6 net ; Leather, 3/6 net. 
 
 R. L. stevi:nson. 
 
 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, with other Fables. 
 
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 The Wrong Box. 
 STANLEY WEY.MAN. 
 
 The House of the Wolf. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 
 LONDON. NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM MORRIS 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 
 
 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON 
 
 NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA 
 
 1910 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
 
 First Edition, December 1891 [fublhhed by 
 Reeves &-' Turner). 
 
 Rkprinted, Apri/ 1892, 
 
 Transferred to Longmans, Green ^ Co., 
 
 June 1896. 
 Nkw Edition, Pocket Library, October 1910. 
 
 New Edition, -with ' Love is Enough," June 
 1896 ; Reprinted, February 1898, May 
 1902, and June 1907.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA 
 
 OF THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN THE STRONG 
 
 ECHOES OF love's HOUSE 
 
 THE burghers' BATTLE . 
 
 HOPE DIETH : LOVE LIVETH . 
 
 ERROR AND LOSS . 
 
 THE HALL AND THE WOOD 
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS . 
 
 TO THE MUSE OF THE NORTH 
 
 OF THE THREE SEEKERS 
 
 love's GLEANING-TIDE . 
 
 THE MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND 
 
 A DEATH SONG .... 
 
 ICELAND FIRST SEEN 
 
 THE RAVEN AND THE KING's DAUGHTER 
 
 spring's BEDFELLOW 
 
 MEETING IN WINTER 
 
 THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER 
 
 LOVE FULFILLED . . . , 
 
 THE KING OK DENMARK'S SONS 
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
 
 I 
 
 4 
 14 
 16 
 
 19 
 21 
 
 23 
 31 
 33 
 
 34 
 
 39 
 
 40 
 
 44 
 46 
 
 50 
 
 57 
 
 59 
 62 
 
 67 
 69 
 
 78
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 A GARDEN BY THE SEA . 
 
 MOTHER AND SON . 
 
 THUNDER IN THE GARDEN 
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR . 
 
 love's REWARD 
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 
 
 THE VOICE OF TOIL 
 
 GUNNAR's HOWE ABOVE THE HOUSE AT LITHEND 
 
 THE DAY IS COMING 
 
 EARTH THE HEALER, EARTH THE KEEPER 
 
 ALL FOR THE CAUSE 
 
 PAIN AND TIME STRIVE NOT . 
 
 DRAWING NEAR THE LIGHT . 
 
 VERSES FOR PICTURES . 
 
 FOR THE BRIAR ROSE 
 
 ANOTHER FOR THE BRIAR ROSE 
 
 THE WOODPECKER . 
 
 THE LION .... 
 
 THE FOREST .... 
 
 POMONA ..... 
 
 FLORA 
 
 THE ORCHARD 
 
 TAPESTRY TREES 
 
 THE FLOWERINC, ORCHARD 
 
 THE END OF MAY . 
 
 THE HALF OF LIFE GONE 
 
 MINE AND THINE . 
 
 THE LAY OF CHRISTINE .
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 HILDEBRAND AND HELLELIL . 
 
 THE son's sorrow 
 
 AGNES AND THE HILL-MAN 
 
 KNIGHT AAGEN AND MAIDEN ELSE 
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS . 
 
 Vll 
 
 PAGE 
 
 180 
 182 
 186 
 
 202
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 FROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA 
 
 Shall we wake one morn of spring, 
 Glad at heart of everything, 
 Yet pensive with the thought of eve ? 
 Then the white house shall we leave, 
 Pass the wind-flowers and the bays, 
 Through the garth, and go our ways. 
 Wandering down among the meads 
 Till our very joyance needs 
 Rest at last ; till we shall come 
 To that Sun-god's lonely home, 
 Lonely on the hillside grey, 
 Whence the sheep have gone away ; 
 Lonely till the feast-time is. 
 When with prayer and praise of bliss. 
 Thither comes the country side. 
 There awhile shall we abide, 
 Sitting low down in the porch 
 By that image with the torch :
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Thy one white hand laid upon 
 The black pillar that was won 
 From the far-off Indian mine; 
 And my hand nigh touching thine, 
 But not touching ; and thy gown 
 Fair with spring-flowers cast adown 
 From thy bosom and thy brow. 
 There the south-west wind shall blow- 
 Through thine hair to reach my cheek, 
 As thou sittest, nor mayst speak, 
 Nor mayst move the hand I kiss 
 For the very depth of bliss ; 
 Nay, nor turn thine eyes to me. 
 Then desire of the great sea 
 Nigh enow, but all unheard. 
 In the hearts of us is stirred, 
 And we rise, we twain at last, 
 And the daffodils downcast. 
 Feel thy feet and we are gone 
 From the lonely Sun-Crowned one. 
 Then the meads fade at our back. 
 And the spring day 'gins to lack 
 That fresh hope that once it had ; 
 But we twain grow yet more glad, 
 And apart no more may go 
 When the grassy slope and low 
 Dieth in the shingly sand : 
 Then we wander hand in hand
 
 FROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA 
 
 By the edges of the sea, 
 And I weary more for thee 
 Than if far apart we were, 
 With a space of desert drear 
 'Twixt thy hps and mine, O love ! 
 Ah, my joy, my joy thereof!
 
 OF THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 
 THE STRONG 
 
 A STORY FROM THE LAND-SETTLING BOOK OF 
 ICELAND, CHAPTER XXX 
 
 At Deildar-Tongue in the autumn-tide, 
 So many limes over comes stmuner again^ 
 Stood Odd of Tongue his door beside. 
 IV/iat Jiciiliug in summer if ivinter be vain ? 
 Dim and dusk the day was grown, 
 As he heard his folded wethers moan. 
 Then through the garth a man drew near, 
 With painted shield and gold- wrought spear. 
 Good was his horse and grand his gear. 
 And his girths were wet with Whitewater. 
 " Hail, Master Odd, live blithe and long ! 
 How fare the folk at Deildar-Tongue ? " 
 "All hail, thou Hallbiorn the Strong! 
 How fare the folk by the Brothers'-Tongue ? " 
 " Meat have we there, and drink and fire. 
 Nor lack all things that we desire. 
 But by the other Whitewater 
 Of Hallgerd many a tale we hear."
 
 THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 
 
 " Tales enow may my daughter make 
 
 If too many words be said for her sake." 
 
 '* What saith thine heart to a word of mine, 
 
 That I deem thy daughter fair and fme ? 
 
 Fair and fme for a bride is she, 
 
 And I fain would have her home with me." 
 
 " Full many a word that at noon goes forth 
 
 Comes home at even little worth. 
 
 Now winter treadeth on autumn-tide. 
 
 So here till the spring shalt thou abide. 
 
 Then if thy mind be changed no whit, 
 
 And ye still will wed, see ye to it ! 
 
 And on the first of summer days, 
 
 A wedded man, ye may go your ways. 
 
 Yet look, howso the thing will fall. 
 
 My hand shall meddle nought at all. 
 
 Lo, now the night and rain draweth up, 
 
 And within doors glimmer stoop and cup. 
 
 And hark, a Httle sound I know. 
 
 The laugh of Sntebiorn's fiddle-bow, 
 
 My sister's son, and a craftsman good, 
 
 WhQn the red rain drives through the iron wood.' 
 
 Hallbiorn laughed, and followed in, 
 
 And a merry feast there did begin. 
 
 Hallgerd's hands undid his weed, 
 
 Hallgerd's hands poured out the mead. 
 
 Her fingers at his breast he felt. 
 
 As her hair fell down about his belt.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Her fingers with the cup he took, 
 
 And o'er its rim at her did look. 
 
 Cold cup, warm hand, and fingers slim, 
 
 Before his eyes were waxen dim. 
 
 And if the feast were foul or fair, 
 
 He knew not, save that she was there. 
 
 He knew not if men laughed or wept. 
 
 While still 'twixt wall and dais she stept. 
 
 Whether she went or stood that eve, 
 
 Not once his eyes her face did leave. 
 
 But Sncebiorn laughed and Snaibiorn sang. 
 
 And sweet his smitten fiddle rang. 
 
 And Hallgerd stood beside him there. 
 
 So many iimcs over comes simimcr again, 
 
 Nor ever once he turned to her. 
 
 What healing in suinmer if zvinfer be vain ? 
 
 Master Odd on the morrow spake, 
 So jnany times over comes summer again. 
 " Hearken, O guest, if ye be awake," 
 What healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 •' Sure ye champions of the south 
 Speak many things from a silent mouth. 
 And thine, meseems, last night did pray 
 That ye might well be wed to-day. 
 The year's ingathering feast it is, 
 A goodly day to give thee bliss.
 
 THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 7 
 
 Come hither, daughter, fine and fair. 
 
 Here is a wooer from Whitewater. 
 
 East away hath he gotten fame. 
 
 And his father's name is e'en my name. 
 
 Will ye lay hand within his hand, 
 
 That blossoming fair our house may stand ? " 
 
 She laid her hand within his hand ; 
 
 White she was as the lily wand. 
 
 Low sang Snoebiorn's brand in its sheath. 
 
 And his lips were waxen grey as death. 
 
 " Snjebiorn, sing us a song of worth, 
 
 If your song must be silent from now henceforth." 
 
 Clear and loud his voice outrang. 
 
 And a song of worth at the wedding he sang. 
 
 " Sharp sword," he sang, " and death is sure." 
 
 So many times over comes summer again, 
 
 " But love doth over all endure." 
 
 What healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 Now winter cometh and weareth away, 
 So many times over comes summer again^ 
 And glad is Hallbiorn many a day. 
 What healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 Full soft he lay his love beside; 
 But dark are the days of winter-tide. 
 Dark are the days, and the nights are long, 
 And sweet and fair was Sn?ebiorn's song.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Many a time he talked with her, 
 
 Till they deemed the summer-tide was there. 
 
 And they forgat the wind-swept ways 
 
 And angry fords of the flitting-days. 
 
 While the north wind swept the hillside there 
 
 They forgat the other Whitewater. 
 
 While nights at Deildar-Tongue were long, 
 
 They clean forgat the Brothers'-Tongue. 
 
 But whatso falleth 'twixt Hell and Home, 
 
 So many times over comes summer again^ 
 
 Full surely again shall summer come. 
 
 What heating in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 To Odd spake Hallbiorn on a day, 
 
 So many times over comes summer again, 
 
 " Gone is the snow from everyway." 
 
 IVhat healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 " Now green is grown Whitewater-side, 
 
 And I to Whitewater will ride." 
 
 Quoth Odd, " Well fare thou winter-guest, 
 
 May thine own Whitewater be best. 
 
 Well is a man's purse better at home 
 
 Than open where folk go and come." 
 
 " Come ye carles of the south country. 
 
 Now shall we go our kin to see ! 
 
 Tor the lambs are bleating in the south. 
 
 And the salmon swims towards Olfus mouth.
 
 THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 
 
 Girth and graithe and gather your gear ! 
 
 And ho for the other Whitewater ! " 
 
 Bright was the moon as bright might be, 
 
 And Snaebiorn rode to the north country. 
 
 And Odd to Reykholt is gone forth, 
 
 To see if his mares be ought of worth. 
 
 But Hallbiorn into the bower is gone, ^ 
 
 And there sat Hallgerd all alone. 
 
 She was not dight to go nor ride, 
 
 She had no joy of the summer-tide. 
 
 Silent she sat and combed her hair. 
 
 That fell all round about her there. 
 
 The slant beam lay upon her head, 
 
 And gilt her golden locks to red. 
 
 He gazed at her with hungry eyes 
 
 And fluttering did his heart arise. 
 
 "Full hot," he said, "is the sun to-day. 
 
 And the snow is gone from the mountain-way ; 
 
 The king-cup grows above the grass, 
 
 And through the wood do the thrushes pass." 
 
 Of all his words she hearkened none, 
 
 But combed her hair amidst the sun. 
 
 " The laden beasts stand in the garth 
 
 And their heads are turned to Helliskarth." 
 
 The sun was falling on her knee, 
 
 And she combed her gold hair silently. 
 
 " To-morrow great will be the cheer 
 
 At the Brothers'-Tongue by Whitewater."
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 From her folded lap the sunbeam slid ; 
 
 She combed her hair, and the word she hid. 
 
 "Come, love; is the way so long and drear 
 
 From Whitewater to Whitewater ? " 
 
 The sunbeam lay upon the floor; 
 
 She combed her hair and spake no more. 
 
 He drew her by the lily hand : 
 
 " I love thee better than all the land." 
 
 He drew her by the shoulders sweet : 
 
 " My threshold is but for thy feet." 
 
 He drew her by the yellow hair : 
 
 " O why w^ert thou so deadly fair ? 
 
 O am I wedded to death ? " he cried, 
 
 " Is the Dead-strand come to Whitewater side ? " 
 
 And the sun was fading from the room. 
 
 But her eyes were bright in the change and the gloom. 
 
 " Sharp sword," she sang, " and death is sure, 
 
 But over all doth love endure." 
 
 She stood up shining in her place 
 
 And laughed beneath his deadly face. 
 
 Instead of the sunbeam gleamed a brand, 
 
 The hilts were hard in Hallbiorn's hand : 
 
 The bitter point was in Hallgerd's breast 
 
 That Snsebiorn's lips of love had pressed. 
 
 Morn and noon, and nones passed o'er, 
 
 And the sun is far from the bower door. 
 
 To-morrow morn shall the sun come back, 
 
 So viauy finics over comes simnner again,
 
 THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 
 
 But Hallgerd's feet the floor shall lack. 
 IV/iaf healing in summer if ivinter be vain ? 
 
 Now Hallbiorn's house-carles ride full fast, 
 
 So many times over comes summer again, 
 
 Till many a mile of way is past. 
 
 W/iai healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 But when they came over Oxridges, 
 
 'Twas, " Where shall we give our horses ease? " 
 
 When Shieldbroad-side was well in sight, 
 
 Twas, " Where shall we lay our heads to-night ? " 
 
 Hallbiorn turned and raised his head ; 
 
 " Under the stones of the waste," he said. 
 
 Quoth one, " The clatter of hoofs anigh." 
 
 Quoth the other, " Spears against the sky ! " 
 
 "Hither ride men from the Wells apace; 
 
 Spur we fast to a kindlier place." 
 
 Down from his horse leapt Hallbiorn straight : 
 
 " Why should the supper of Odin wait ? 
 
 Weary and chased I will not come 
 
 To the table of my fathers' home." 
 
 With that came Snsebiorn, who but he, 
 
 And twelve in all was his company. 
 
 Snaebiorn's folk were on their feet ; 
 
 He spake no word as they did meet. 
 
 They fought upon the northern hill : 
 
 Five are the howes men see there still.
 
 12 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Three men of Snnsbiorn's fell to earth 
 
 And Hallbiorn's twain that were of worth. 
 
 And never a word did Sncebiorn say, 
 
 Till Hallbiorn's foot he smote away. 
 
 Then Hallbiorn cried : " Come, fellow of mine, 
 
 To the southern bent where the sun doth shine. 
 
 Tottering into the sun he went, 
 
 And slew two more upon the bent. 
 
 And on the bent where dead he lay 
 
 Three howes do men behold to-day. 
 
 And never a word spake Sn^biorn yet, 
 
 Till in his saddle he was set. 
 
 Nor was there any heard his voice, 
 
 So j/iany times over comes summer again ^ 
 
 Till he came to his ship in Grimsar-oyce. 
 
 What healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 On so fair a day they hoisted sail, 
 
 So many times over comes summer again, 
 
 And for Norway well did the wind avail. 
 
 IVIiat healing in summer if winter be vain ? 
 
 But Sna^biorn looked aloft and said : 
 
 " I see in the sail a stripe of red : 
 
 Murder, meseems, is the name of it. 
 
 And ugly things about it flit. 
 
 A stripe of blue in the sail I see : 
 
 Cold death of men it seems to me. 
 
 And next I see a stripe of black, 
 
 For a life fulfilled of bitter lack."
 
 THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN 13 
 
 Quoth one, " So fair a wind doth blow 
 
 That we shall see Norway soon enow." 
 
 " Be blithe, O shipmate," Snaebiorn said, 
 
 " Tell Hacon the Earl that I be dead." 
 
 About the midst of the Iceland main 
 
 Round veered the wind to the east again. 
 
 And west they drave, and long they ran 
 
 Till they saw a land was white and wan. 
 
 " Yea," Snaebiorn said, " my home it is, 
 
 Ye bear a man shall have no bliss. 
 
 Far off beside the Greekish sea 
 
 The maidens pluck the grapes in glee. 
 
 Green groweth the wheat in the English land, 
 
 And the honey-bee flieth on every hand. 
 
 In Norway by the cheaping town 
 
 The laden beasts go up and down. 
 
 In Iceland many a mead they mow, 
 
 And Hallgerd's grave grows green enow. 
 
 But these are Gunnbiorn's skerries wan, 
 
 Meet harbour for a hapless man. 
 
 In all lands else is love alive, 
 
 But here is nought with grief to strive. 
 
 Fail not for a while, O eastern wind, 
 
 For nought but grief is left behind. 
 
 And before me here a rest I know," 
 
 So many times over comes summer again, 
 
 " A grave beneath the Greenland snow," 
 
 What healing in summer if winter be vain ?
 
 ECHOES OF LOVE'S HOUSE 
 
 Love gives every gift whereby we long to live : 
 
 *' Love takes every gift, and nothing back doth give." 
 
 Love unlocks the lips that else were ever dumb : 
 " Love locks up the lips whence all things good 
 misht come." 
 
 Love makes clear the eyes that else would never see : 
 " Love makes blind the eyes to all but me and thee." 
 
 Love turns life to joy till nought is left to gain : 
 
 " Love turns life to woe till hope is nought and vain." 
 
 Love, who changest all, change me nevermore ! 
 
 " Love, who changest all, change my sorrow sore ! " 
 
 Love burns up the world to changeless heaven and 
 
 blest, 
 " Love burns up the world to a void of all unrest."
 
 ECHOES OF LOVE'S HOUSE 15 
 
 And there we twain are left, and no more work we 
 
 need: 
 " And I am left alone, and who my work shall heed ? " 
 
 Ah ! I praise thee, Love, for utter joyance won ! 
 *' And is my praise nought worth for all my life un- 
 done ? "
 
 THE BURGHERS' BATTLE 
 
 Thick rise the spear-shafts o'er the land 
 
 That erst the harvest bore ; 
 
 The sword is heavy in the hand, 
 
 And ivc return no more. 
 
 The Hght wind waves the Ruddy Fox, 
 
 Our banner of the war, 
 
 And ripples in the Running Ox, 
 
 And zue return no more. 
 
 Across our stubble acres now 
 
 The teams go four and four ; 
 
 But out-worn elders guide the plough, 
 
 And ive return no more. 
 
 And now the women heavy-eyed 
 
 Turn through the open door 
 
 From gazing down the highway wide, 
 
 Where we return no more. 
 
 The shadows of the fruited close 
 
 Dapple the feast-hall floor ; 
 
 There lie our dogs and dream and doze, 
 
 And ive return no more. 
 
 Down from the minster tower to-day 
 
 Fall the soft chimes of yore
 
 THE BURGHERS' BATTLE 17 
 
 Amidst the chattering jackdaws' play : 
 
 Aitd we return no more. 
 
 But underneath the streets are still ; 
 
 Noon, and the market's o'er ! 
 
 Back go the goodwives o'er the hill ; 
 
 For we return no more. 
 
 What merchant to our gates shall come ? 
 
 What wise man bring us lore ? 
 
 What abbot ride away to Rome, 
 
 Noiv we return no more ? 
 
 What mayor shall rule the hall we built ? 
 
 Whose scarlet sweep the floor ? 
 
 What judge shall doom the robber's guilt, 
 
 Noiv we return no more ? 
 
 New houses in the street shall rise 
 
 Where builded we before, 
 
 Of other stone wrought otherwise; 
 
 For zve return no more. 
 
 And crops shall cover field and hill 
 
 Unlike what once they bore, 
 
 And all be done without our will, 
 
 Now we return no more. 
 
 Look up ! the arrows streak the sky. 
 
 The horns of battle roar ; 
 
 The long spears lower and draw nigh, 
 
 And we return no more. 
 
 Remember how beside the wain, 
 
 We spoke the word of war, 
 
 B
 
 iS POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And sowed this harvest of the plain, 
 
 ^■lud ive return no more. 
 
 Lay spears about the Ruddy Fox ! 
 
 The days of old are o'er ; 
 
 Heave sword about the Running Ox ! 
 
 For zi'e re/urn no more.
 
 HOPE DIETH: LOVE LIVETH 
 
 Strong are thine arms, O love, and strong 
 
 Thine heart to Uve, and love, and long; 
 
 But thou art wed to grief and wrong : 
 
 Live, then, and long, though hope be dead ! 
 
 Live on, and labour through the years ! 
 
 Make pictures through the mist of tears, 
 
 Of unforgotten happy fears. 
 
 That crossed the time ere hope was dead. 
 
 Draw near the place, where once we stood 
 
 Amid delight's swift-rushing flood, 
 
 And we and all the world seemed good, 
 
 Nor needed hope now cold and dead. 
 
 Dream in the dawn I come to thee 
 
 Weeping for things that may not be ! 
 
 Dream that thou layest lips on me ! 
 
 Wake, wake to clasp hope's body dead ! 
 
 Count o'er and o'er, and one by one. 
 
 The minutes of the happy sun 
 
 That while agone on kissed lips shone, 
 
 Count on, rest not, for hope is dead. 
 
 Weep, though no hair's breadth thou shalt move
 
 20 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 The living Earth, the heaven above. 
 
 By all the bitterness of love ! 
 
 Weep and cease not, now hope is dead ! 
 
 Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease. 
 
 Life hath no joy, and Death no peace : 
 
 The years change not, though they decrease, 
 
 For hope is dead, for hope is dead. 
 
 Speak, love, I listen : far away 
 
 I bless the tremulous lips, that say, 
 
 " Mock not the afternoon of day. 
 
 Mock not the tide when hope is dead ! " 
 
 I bless thee, O my love, who say'st : 
 
 " Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste; 
 
 I hold Love's hand, and make no haste 
 
 Down the long way, now hope is dead. 
 
 With other names do we name pain, 
 
 The long years wear our hearts in vain. 
 
 Mock not our loss grown into gain, 
 
 Mock not our lost hope lying dead. 
 
 Our eyes gaze for no morning-star. 
 
 No glimmer of the dawn afar; 
 
 Full silent wayfarers we are 
 
 Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead. 
 
 Behold with lack of happiness 
 
 The master, Love, our hearts did bless 
 
 Lest we should think of him the less : 
 
 Love dieth not, though hope is dead ! "
 
 ERROR AND LOSS 
 
 Upon an eve I sat me down and wept, 
 Because the world to me seemed nowise good ; 
 Still autumn was it, and the meadows slept. 
 The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood 
 Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood : 
 I knew not if the earth with me did grieve, 
 Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve. 
 
 Then 'twixt my tears a maiden did I see, 
 Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass. 
 Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully 
 With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass 
 From me to her, and tearless now I was, 
 And she mid tears was asking me of one 
 She long had sought unaided and alone. 
 
 I knew not of him, and she turned away 
 Into the dark wood, and my own great pain 
 Still held me there, till dark had slain the day, 
 And perished at the grey dawn's hand again ;
 
 : POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Then from the wood a voice cried : " Ah, in vain, 
 
 In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet ! 
 
 In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet ? " 
 
 Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came 
 From midst the trees, and stood regarding me 
 Until my tears were dried for very shame ; 
 Then he cried out : " O mourner, where is she 
 Whom I have sought o'er every land and sea ? 
 I love her and she loveth me, and still 
 We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill." 
 
 With that he passed on sadly, and I knew 
 That these had met and missed in the dark night. 
 Blinded by blindness of the world untrue, 
 That hideth love and maketh wrong of right. 
 Then midst my pity for their lost delight. 
 Yet more with barren longing I grew weak, 
 Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
 
 THE HALL AND THE WOOD 
 
 'TwAS in the water-dwindling tide 
 When July days were done, 
 Sir Rafe of Greenhowes 'gan to ride 
 In the earhest of the sun. 
 
 He left the white-walled burg behind, 
 He rode amidst the wheat. 
 The westland-gotten wind blew kind 
 Across the acres sw^eet. 
 
 Then rose his heart and cleared his brow, 
 And slow he rode the way : 
 " As then it was, so is it now, 
 Not all hath worn away." 
 
 So came he to the long green lane 
 That leadeth to the ford, 
 And saw the sickle by the wain 
 Shine bright as any sword. 
 
 The brown carles stayed 'twixt draught and draught, 
 
 And murmuring, stood aloof, 
 
 But one spake out when he had laughed : 
 
 " God bless the Green-wood Roof! " 
 23
 
 24 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 'IMien o'er the ford and up he fared : 
 And lo the happy hills ! 
 And the mountain-dale by summer cleared, 
 That oft the winter fills. 
 
 Then forth he rode by Peter's gate, 
 And smiled and said aloud : 
 " No more a day doth the Prior wait ; 
 ^^'hite stands the tower and proud." 
 
 There leaned a knight on the gateway side 
 In armour white and wan, 
 And after the heels of the horse he cried, 
 " God keep the hunted man ! " 
 
 Then quoth Sir Rafe, " Amen, amen ! " 
 For he deemed the word was good ; 
 But never a while he lingered then 
 Till he reached the Nether Wood. 
 
 He rode by ash, he rode by oak, 
 He rode the thicket round, 
 And heard no woodman strike a stroke. 
 No wandering wife he found. 
 
 He rode the wet, he rode the dry, 
 He rode the grassy glade : 
 At Wood-end yet the sun was high, 
 And his heart was unafraid.
 
 THE HALL AND THE WOOD 25 
 
 There on the bent his rein he drew, 
 And looked o'er field and fold, 
 O'er all the merry meads he knew 
 Beneath the mountains old. 
 
 He gazed across to the good Green Howe 
 As he smelt the sun-warmed sward ; 
 Then his face grew pale from chin to brow, 
 And he cried, " God save the sword ! " 
 
 For there beyond the winding way. 
 Above the orchards green, 
 Stood up the ancient gables grey 
 With ne'er a roof between. 
 
 His naked blade in hand he had. 
 
 O'er rough and smooth he rode, 
 
 Till he stood where once his heart was glad 
 
 Amidst his old abode. 
 
 Across the hearth a tie-beam lay 
 Unmoved a weary while. 
 The flame that clomb the ashlar grey 
 Had burned it red as tile. 
 
 The sparrows bickering on the floor 
 Fled at his entering in ; 
 The swift flew past the empty door 
 His winged meat to win.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Red apples from the tall old tree 
 O'er the wall's rent were shed. 
 Thence oft, a little lad, would he 
 Look down upon the lead. 
 
 There turned the cheeping chaffinch now 
 And feared no birding child ; 
 Through the shot-window thrust a bough 
 Of garden-rose run wild. 
 
 He looked to right, he looked to left. 
 And down to the cold grey hearth, 
 Where lay an axe with half burned heft 
 Amidst the ashen dearth. 
 
 He caught it up and cast it wide 
 Against the gable wall ; 
 Then to the dais did he stride, 
 O'er beam and bench and all. 
 
 Amidst there yet the high-seat stood, 
 Where erst his sires had sat ; 
 And the mighty board of oaken wood. 
 The fire had stayed thereat. 
 
 Then through the red wrath of his eyne 
 He saw a sheathed sword, 
 Laid thwart that wasted field of wine. 
 Amidmost of the board.
 
 THE HALL AND THE WOOD 27 
 
 And by the hilts a slug-horn lay, 
 And therebeside a scroll, 
 He caught it up and turned away 
 From the lea-land of the bowl. 
 
 Then with the sobbing grief he strove, 
 For he saw his name thereon ; 
 And the heart within his breast uphove 
 As the pen's tale now he won. 
 
 " O Rafe, my love of long ago ! 
 Draw forth thy father's blade, 
 And blow the horn for friend and foe, 
 And the good green-wood to aid ! " 
 
 He turned and took the slug-horn up. 
 And set it to his mouth. 
 And o'er that meadow of the cup 
 Blew east and west and south. 
 
 He drew the sword from out the sheath 
 And shook the fallow brand; 
 And there a while with bated breath, 
 And hearkening ear did stand. 
 
 Him-seemed the horn's voice he might hear — 
 Or the wind that blew o'er all. 
 Him-seemed that footsteps drew anear — 
 Or the boughs shook round the hall.
 
 28 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Him-seemed he heard a voice he knew — 
 
 Or a dream of while agone. 
 
 Hini-seemed bright raiment towards him drew — 
 
 Or bright the sun-set shone. 
 
 She stood before him face to face, 
 Witli the sun-beam thwart her hand, 
 As on the gold of the Holy Place 
 The painted angels stand. 
 
 With many a kiss she closed his eyes ; 
 She kissed him check and chin : 
 E'en so in the painted Paradise 
 Are Earth's folk welcomed in. 
 
 There in the door the green-coats stood, 
 O'er the bows went up the cry, 
 " O welcome, Rafe, to the free green-wood, 
 With us to live and die." 
 
 It was bill and bow by the high-seat stood. 
 And they cried above the bows, 
 " Now welcome, Rafe, to the good green-wood, 
 And welcome Kate the Rose ! " 
 
 White, white in the moon is the woodland plash, 
 White is the woodland glade. 
 Forth wend those twain, from oak to ash. 
 With light hearts unafraid.
 
 THE HALL AND THE WOOD 29 
 
 The summer moon high o'er the hill, 
 
 All silver-white is she, 
 
 And Sir Rafe's good men with bow and bill, 
 
 They go by two and three. 
 
 In the fair green-wood where lurks no fear, 
 Where the King's writ runneth not. 
 There dwell they, friends and fellows dear, 
 While summer days are hot. 
 
 And when the leaf from the oak-tree falls, 
 And winds blow rough and strong. 
 With the carles of the woodland thorps and halls 
 They dwell, and fear no wrong. 
 
 And there the merry yule they make, 
 And see the winter wane, 
 And fain are they for true-love's sake. 
 And the folk thereby are fain. 
 
 For the ploughing carle and the straying herd 
 
 Flee never for Sir Rafe : 
 
 No barefoot maiden wends afeard, 
 
 And she deems the thicket safe. 
 
 But sore adread do the chapmen ride ; 
 Wide round the wood they go ; 
 And the judge and the sergeants wander wide, 
 Lest they plead before the bow.
 
 30 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Well learned and wise is Sir Rafe's good sword, 
 
 And straight the arrows fly, 
 
 And they find the coat of many a lord, 
 
 And the crest that rideth hitrh.
 
 THE DAY OF DAYS 
 
 Each eve earth falleth down the dark, 
 As though its hope were o'er ; 
 Yet lurks the sun when day is done 
 Behind to-morrow's door. 
 
 Grey grows the dawn while men-folk sleep, 
 Unseen spreads on the light, 
 Till the thrush sings to the coloured things. 
 And earth forgets the night. 
 
 No otherwise wends on our Hope : 
 E'en as a tale that's told 
 Are fair lives lost, and all the cost 
 Of wise and true and bold. 
 
 We've toiled and failed ; we spake the word ; 
 None hearkened ; dumb we lie ;i 
 OurlHope is dead, the seed we spread 
 Fell o'er the earth to die.
 
 32 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 What's this ? For joy our hearts stand still, 
 And life is loved and dear, 
 The lost and found the Cause hath crowned, 
 The Day of Days is here.
 
 TO THE MUSE OF THE NORTH 
 
 O Muse that swayest the sad Northern Song, 
 
 Thy right hand full of smiting and of wrong, 
 
 Thy left hand holding pity ; and thy breast 
 
 Heaving with hope of that so certain rest : 
 
 Thou, with the grey eyes kind and unafraid. 
 
 The soft lips trembling not, though they have said 
 
 The doom of the World and those that dwell therein. 
 
 The lips that smile not though thy children win 
 
 The fated Love that draws the fated Death. 
 
 O, borne adown the fresh stream of thy breath. 
 
 Let some word reach my ears and touch my heart. 
 
 That, if it may be, I may have a part 
 
 In that great sorrow of thy children dead 
 
 That vexed the brow, and bowed adown the head. 
 
 Whitened the hair, made life a wondrous dream, 
 
 And death the murmur of a restful stream, 
 
 But left no stain upon those souls of thine 
 
 Whose greatness through the tangled world doth shine. 
 
 O Mother, and Love and Sister all in one, 
 
 Come thou ; for sure I am enough alone 
 
 That thou thine arms about my heart shouldst throw, 
 
 And wrap me in the grief of long ago. 
 
 33 C
 
 OF THE THREE SEEKERS 
 
 There met three knights on the woodland way, 
 
 And the first was clad in silk array : 
 
 The second was dight in iron and steel, 
 
 But the third was rags from head to heel. 
 
 " Lo, now is the year and the day come round 
 
 When we must tell what we have found." 
 
 The first said : "I have found a king 
 
 Who grudgeth no gift of anything." 
 
 The second said : '' I have found a knight 
 
 Who hath never turned his back in fight." 
 
 But the third said : "I have found a love 
 
 That Time and the World shall never move." 
 
 Whither away to win good cheer ? 
 
 " With me," said the first, " for my king is near. 
 
 So to the King they went their ways ; 
 
 But there was a change of times and days. 
 
 " What men are ye," the great King said, 
 
 " That yc should eat my children's bread ?
 
 OF THE THREE SEEKERS 35 
 
 My waste has fed full many a store, 
 
 And mocking and grudge have I gained therefore. 
 
 Whatever waneth as days wax old, 
 
 Full worthy to win are goods and gold." 
 
 Whither away to win good cheer ? 
 
 " With me," said the second, " my knight is near. 
 
 So to the knight they went their ways, 
 
 But there was a change of times and days. 
 
 He dwelt in castle sure and strong. 
 
 For fear lest aught should do him wrong. 
 
 Guards by gate and hall there were, 
 
 And folk went in and out in fear. 
 
 When he heard the mouse run in the wall, 
 
 " Hist ! " he said, " what next shall befall? 
 
 Draw not near, speak under your breath. 
 
 For all new-comers tell of death. 
 
 Bring me no song nor minstrelsy, 
 
 Round death it babbleth still," said he. 
 
 " And what is fame and the praise of men, 
 
 When lost life cometh not again ? " 
 
 Whither away to seek good cheer ? 
 
 " Ah me ! " said the third, " that my love were anear ! 
 
 Were the world as little as it is wide, 
 
 In a happy house should ye abide. 
 
 \Vere the world as kind as it is hard. 
 
 Ye should behold a fair reward."
 
 36 POEMS BV THE WAY 
 
 So far by high and low have they gone, 
 
 They have come to a waste was rock and stone. 
 
 But lo, from the waste, a company 
 
 Full well bedight came riding by ; 
 
 And in the midst, a queen, so fair. 
 
 That God wrought well in making her. 
 
 The first and second knights abode 
 
 To gaze upon her as she rode, 
 
 Forth passed the third with head down bent, 
 
 And stumbling ever as he went. 
 
 His shoulder brushed her saddle-bow ; 
 
 He trembled with his head hung low. 
 
 His hand brushed o'er her golden gown, 
 
 As on the waste he fell adown. 
 
 So swift to earth her feet she set. 
 
 It seemed that there her arms he met. 
 
 His lips that looked the stone to meet 
 
 Were on her trembling lips and sweet. 
 
 Softly she kissed him cheek and chin, 
 
 His mouth lier many tears drank in. 
 
 " Where would'st thou wander, love," she said, 
 
 " Now I have drawn thee from the dead ? " 
 
 " I go my ways," he said, " and thine 
 
 Have nought to do with grief and pine." 
 
 " All ways are one way now," she said, 
 
 " Since I have drawn thee from the dead." 
 
 Said he, " But I must seek again 
 
 ^^'here first I met thee in thy pain :
 
 OF THE THREE SEEKERS 37 
 
 I am not clad so fair," said he, 
 
 " But yet the old hurts thou may'st see. 
 
 And thou, but for thy gown of gold, 
 
 A piteous tale of thee were told." 
 
 " There is no pain on earth," she said, 
 
 " Since I have drawn thee from the dead." 
 
 " And parting waiteth for us there," 
 
 Said he, " as it was yester-year." 
 
 " Yet first a space of love," she said, 
 
 " Since I have drawn thee from the dead." 
 
 He laughed ; said he, " Hast thou a home 
 
 Where I and these my friends may come ? " 
 
 Laughing, " The world's my home," she said, 
 
 " Now I have drawn thee from the dead. 
 
 Yet somewhere is a space thereof 
 
 Where I may dwell beside my love. 
 
 There clear the river grows for him 
 
 Till o'er its stones his keel shall swim. 
 
 There faint the thrushes in their song. 
 
 And deem he tarrieth overlong. 
 
 There summer-tide is waiting now 
 
 Until he bids the roses blow. 
 
 Come, tell my flowery fields," she said, 
 
 " How I have drawn thee from the dead." 
 
 Whither away to win good cheer ? 
 
 " With me," he said, " for my love is here.
 
 38 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 The wealth of my house it waneth not ; 
 
 No gift it giveth is forgot. 
 
 No fear my house may enter in, 
 
 For nought is there that death may win. 
 
 Now life is little, and death is nought. 
 
 Since all is found that erst I sought."
 
 LOVE'S GLEANING-TIDE 
 
 Draw not away thy hands, my love, 
 With wind alone the branches move, 
 And though the leaves be scant above 
 The Autumn shall not shame us. 
 
 Say ; Let the world wax cold and drear, 
 What is the worst of all the year 
 But life, and what can hurt us, dear, 
 Or death, and who shall blame us r 
 
 Ah, when the summer comes again 
 How shall we say, we sowed in vain ? 
 The root was joy, the stem was pain. 
 The ear a nameless blending. 
 
 The root is dead and gone, my love. 
 The stem's a rod our truth to prove ; 
 The ear is stored for nought to move 
 Till heaven and earth have ending. 
 
 39
 
 THE MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND 
 
 Fair now is the spring-tide, now earth Hes beholding 
 With the eyes of a lover, the face of the sun ; 
 Long lasteth the daylight, and hope is enfolding 
 The green-growung acres with increase begun. 
 
 Now sw^eet, sweet it is through the land to be straying 
 'Mid the birds and the blossoms, and the beasts of 
 
 the field ; 
 Love mingles with love, and no evil is weighing 
 On thy heart or mine, where all sorrow is healed. 
 
 From township to township, o'er down and by tillage 
 Fair, far have we wandered and long was the day ; 
 But now Cometh eve at the end of the village, 
 Where over the grey wall the church riseth grey. 
 
 There is wind in the twihght; in the white road 
 
 before us 
 The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about ; 
 The moon's rim is rising, a star glitters o'er us. 
 And the vane on the spire-top is swinging in doubt.
 
 MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND 41 
 
 Down there dips the highway, toward the bridge 
 
 crossing over 
 The brook that runs on to the Thames and the sea. 
 Draw closer, my sweet, we are lover and lover ; 
 This eve art thou given to gladness and me. 
 
 Shall we be glad always ? Come closer and hearken : 
 Three fields further on, as they told me down there. 
 When the young moon has set, if the March sky 
 
 should darken. 
 We might see from the hill-top the great city's glare. 
 
 Hark, the wind in the elm-boughs ! from London it 
 
 bloweth. 
 And telleth of gold, and of hope and unrest ; 
 Of power that helps not ; of wisdom that knoweth. 
 But teacheth not aught of the worst and the best. 
 
 Of the rich men it telleth, and strange is the story 
 How they have, and they hanker, and grip far andwide ; 
 And they live and they die, and the earth and its 
 
 glory 
 Has been but a burden they scarce might abide. 
 
 Hark ! the March wind again of a people is telling ; 
 Of the life that they live there, so haggard and grim, 
 That if we and our love amidst them had been 
 
 dwelling 
 My fondness had faltered, thy beauty grown dim.
 
 42 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 This land we have loved in our love and our leisure 
 For ihem hangs in heaven, high out of their reach ; 
 The wide hills o'er the sea-plain for them have no 
 
 pleasure, 
 The grey homes of their fathers no story to teach. 
 
 The singers have sung and the builders have builded, 
 The painters have fashioned their tales of delight ; 
 For what and for whom hath the world's book been 
 
 gilded, 
 When all is for these but the blackness of night ? 
 
 How long, and for what is their patience abiding ? 
 How oft and how oft shall their story be told, 
 While the hope that none seeketh in darkness is 
 
 hiding, 
 And in grief and in sorrow the world groweth old ? 
 
 Come back to the inn, love, and the lights and the fire, 
 And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet ; 
 For there in a while shall be rest and desire, 
 And there shall the morrow's uprising be sweet. 
 
 Yet, love, as we wend, the wind bloweth behind us. 
 And beareth the last tale it telleth to-night. 
 How here in the spring-tide the message shall find us ; 
 For the hope that none seeketh is coming to light.
 
 MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND 43 
 
 Like the seed of mid-winter, unheeded, unperished, 
 Like the autumn-sown wheat 'neath the snow lying 
 
 green, 
 Like the love that o'ertook us, unawares and un- 
 
 cherished, 
 Like the babe 'neath thy girdle that groweth unseen ; 
 
 So the hope of the people now buddeth and groweth. 
 Rest fadeth before it, and blindness and fear; 
 It biddeth us learn all the wisdom it knoweth; 
 It hath found us and held us, and biddeth u"s hear : 
 
 For it beareth the message : " Rise up on the morrow 
 And go on your ways toward the doubt and the 
 
 strife ; 
 Join hope to our hope and blend sorrow with sorrow, 
 And seek for men's love in the short days of life." 
 
 But lo, the old inn, and the lights, and the fire. 
 And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet ; 
 Soon for us shall be quiet and rest and desire. 
 And to-morrow's uprising to deeds shall be sweet.
 
 A DEATH SOiNG 
 
 What cometh here from west to east awending ? 
 And who are these, the marchers stern and slow ? 
 We bear the message that the rich are sending 
 Aback to those who bade them wake and know. 
 Not Okie, not one, nor thousands must they slay, 
 But one and all if they K'ould dusk the day. 
 
 We asked them for a hfe of toilsome earning, 
 They bade us bide their leisure for our bread ; 
 Wc craved to speak to tell our woeful learning : 
 We come back speechless, bearing back our dead. 
 Xot one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, 
 But one and all if they H'oidd dusk the day. 
 
 They will not learn ; they have no ears to hearken. 
 They turn their faces from the eyes of fate ; 
 Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken. 
 But, lo ! this dead man knocking at the gate. 
 Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay. 
 But one and all if they luould dusk the day.
 
 A DEATH SONG 45 
 
 Here lies the sign that we shall break our prison ; 
 Amidst the storm he won a prisoner's rest ; 
 But in the cloudy dawn the sun arisen 
 Brings us our day of work to win the best. 
 Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, 
 But one and all if they tvould dusk the day.
 
 ICELAND FIRST SEEN 
 
 Lo from our loitering ship 
 
 a new land at last to be seen; 
 
 Toothed rocks down the side of the firth 
 
 on the east guard a weary wide lea, 
 
 And black slope the hillsides above, 
 
 striped adown with their desolate green : 
 
 And a peak rises up on the west 
 
 from the meeting of cloud and of sea, 
 
 Foursquare from base unto point 
 
 like the building of Gods that have been, 
 
 The last of that waste of the mountains 
 
 all cloud-wreathed and snow-flecked and grey 
 
 And bright with the dawn that began 
 
 just now at the ending of day. 
 
 Ah ! what came we forth for to see 
 
 that our hearts are so hot with desire? 
 
 Is it enough for our rest, 
 
 the sight of this desolate strand, 
 
 And the mountain-waste voiceless as death 
 
 but for winds that may sleep not nor tire ? 
 
 46
 
 ICELAND FIRST SEEN 47 
 
 Why do we long to wend forth 
 
 through the length and breadth of a land, 
 
 Dreadful with grinding of ice, 
 
 and record of scarce hidden fire, 
 
 But that there 'mid the grey grassy dales 
 
 sore scarred by the ruining streams 
 
 Lives the tale of the Northland of old 
 
 and the undying glory of dreams ? 
 
 O land, as some cave by the sea 
 where the treasures of old have been laid, 
 The sword it may be of a king 
 whose name was the turning of fight : 
 Or the staff of some wise of the world 
 that many things made and unmade. 
 Or the ring of a woman maybe 
 whose woe is grown wealth and delight. 
 No wheat and no wine grows above it, 
 no orchard for blossom and shade ; 
 The few ships that sail by its blackness 
 but deem it the mouth of a grave ; 
 Yet sure when the world shall awaken, 
 this too shall be mighty to save. 
 
 Or rather, O land, if a marvel 
 it seemeth that men ever sought 
 Thy wastes for a field and a garden 
 fulfilled of all wonder and doubt,
 
 48 POEMS BY THE WAV 
 
 And feasted amidst of the winter 
 
 when the fight of the year had been fought, 
 
 Whose plunder all gathered together 
 
 was little to babble about ; 
 
 Cry aloud from thy wastes. O thou land, 
 
 " Not for this nor for that was I wrought 
 
 Amid waning of realms and of riches 
 
 and death of things worshipped and sure, 
 
 I abide here the spouse of a God, 
 
 and I made and I make and endure." 
 
 O Queen of the grief without knowledge, 
 
 of the courage that may not avail. 
 
 Of the longing that may not attain, 
 
 of the love that shall never forget, 
 
 More joy than the gladness of laughter 
 
 thy voice hath amidst of its wail : 
 
 More liope than of pleasure fulfilled 
 
 amidst of thy blindness is set; 
 
 More glorious than gaining of all 
 
 thine unfaltering hand that shall fail : 
 
 For what is the mark on thy brow 
 
 but the brand that thy Brynhild doth bear ? 
 
 Lone once, and loved and undone 
 
 by a love that no ages outwear. 
 
 Ah ! when thy Balder comes back, 
 and bears from the heart of the Sun
 
 ICELAND FIRST SEEN 49 
 
 Peace and the healing of pain, 
 
 and the wisdom that waiteth no more ; 
 
 And the Ulies are laid on thy brow 
 
 'mid the crown of the deeds thou hast done ; 
 
 And the roses spring up by thy feet 
 
 that the rocks of the wilderness wore. 
 
 Ah ! when thy Balder comes back 
 
 and we gather the gains he hath won, 
 
 Shall we not linger a little 
 
 to talk of thy sweetness of old. 
 
 Yea, turn back awhile to thy travail 
 
 whence the Gods stood aloof to behold ?
 
 THE RAVEN AND THE KING'S 
 DAUGHTER 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 King's daughter sitting in tower so high, 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 Why weepest thou as the clouds go by ? 
 Fair sing the swans Hwixt firth and field. 
 Why weepest thou in the window-seat 
 Till the tears run through thy fingers sweet ? 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 I weep because I sit alone 
 
 Betwixt these walls of lime and stone. 
 
 Fair folk are in my father's hall, 
 
 But for me he built this guarded wall. 
 
 And here the gold on the green I sew, 
 
 Nor tidings of my true-love know. 
 
 THE raven 
 
 King's daughter, sitting above the sea, 
 I shall tell thee a tale shall gladden thee. 
 Yestreen I saw a ship go forth 
 When the wind blew merry from the north.
 
 THE RAVEN AND KING'S DAUGHTER 
 
 And by the tiller Steingrim sat, 
 And O, but my heart was glad thereat ! 
 For 'twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea 
 His sword sang sweet of deeds to be. 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 O barren sea, thou bitter bird. 
 
 And a barren tale my ears have heard. 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 Thy father's men were hard thereby 
 In byrny bright and helmet high. 
 
 THE king's DAUGHTER 
 
 O worser waxeth thy story far. 
 For these drew upon me bolt and bar. 
 Fly south, O fowl, to the field of death, 
 For nothing sweet thy grey neb saith. 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 O, there was Olaf the hly-rose. 
 As fair as any oak that grows. 
 
 THE king's DAUGHTER 
 
 O sweet bird, what did he then 
 Among the spears of my father's men ?
 
 52 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 'Twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea, 
 He sang : My true love waiteth me. 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 As well as this dull floor knows my feet, 
 I am not weary yet, my sweet. 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 He sang : As once her hand I had. 
 Her lips at last shall make me glad. 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 As once our fingers met, O love, 
 So shall our lips be fain thereof. 
 
 the raven 
 
 He sang : Come wrack and iron and flame, 
 For what shall breach the wall but fame? 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 Be swift to rise and set, O Sun, 
 
 Lest life 'twixt hope and death be done. 
 
 THE raven 
 
 King's daughter sitting in tower so high, 
 A gift for my tale ere forth I fly,
 
 THE RAVEN AND KING'S DAUGHTER 53 
 
 The gold from thy finger fair and fine, 
 Thou hadst it from no love of thine. 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 By my father's ring another there is, 
 
 I had it with my mother's kiss. 
 
 Fly forth, O fowl, across the sea 
 
 To win another gift of me. 
 
 Fly south to bring me tidings true, 
 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 
 Of the eve grown red with the battle-dew, 
 
 Fair sing the swans Hwixt firth and field. 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 King's daughter sitting in tower so high. 
 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 
 Tidings to hearken ere thou die. 
 
 Fair sing the swans ^tivixt firtli and field. 
 
 In the Frankish land the spear points met. 
 
 And wide about the field was wet. 
 
 And high ere the cold moon quenched the sun. 
 
 Blew Steingrim's horn for battle won, 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 Fair fall Ihee, fowl ! Tell tidings true 
 Of deeds that men that day did do.
 
 54 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 Steingrim before his banner went, 
 And helms were broke and byrnies rent. 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 A doughty man and good at need ; 
 Tell men of any other's deed ? 
 
 THE RAVf:N 
 
 Where Steingrim through the battle bore 
 Still Olaf went a foot before. 
 
 THE king's DAUGHTER 
 
 O fair with deeds the world doth grow ! 
 Where is my true-love gotten now ? 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 Upon the deck beside the mast 
 He lieth now, and sleepeth fast. 
 
 THE king's DAUGHTER 
 
 Heard'st thou before his sleep began 
 That he spake word of any man ? 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 Methought of thee he sang a song, 
 But nothing now he saith for long.
 
 THE RAVEN AND KING'S DAUGHTER 55 
 
 THE king's daughter 
 
 And wottest thou where he will wend 
 
 With the world before him from end to end ? 
 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 Before the battle joined that day 
 
 Steingrim a word to him did say : 
 
 " If we bring the banner back in peace, 
 
 In the King's house much shall my fame increase ; 
 
 Till there no guarded door shall be 
 
 But it shall open straight to me. 
 
 Then to the bower we twain shall go 
 
 Where thy love the golden seam doth sew. 
 
 I shall bring thee in and lay thine hand 
 
 About the neck of that lily- wand. 
 
 And let the King be lief or loth 
 
 One bed that night shall hold you both." 
 
 Now north belike runs Steingrim's prow, 
 
 And the rain and the wind from the south do blow. 
 
 THE KING'S DAUGHTER 
 
 Lo, fowl of death, my mother's ring, 
 But the bridal song I must learn to sing. 
 And fain were I for a space alone, 
 For O the wind, and the wind doth moan.
 
 56 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And I must array the bridal bed, 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 For O the rain, and the rain drifts red ! 
 Fair sing the szvans 'tivixf firth and field. 
 
 Before the day from the night was born, 
 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 
 She heard the blast of Steingrim's horn, 
 
 Fair sing the szvans 'twixt frth and f eld. 
 
 Before the day was waxen fair 
 
 AVere Steingrim's feet upon the stair. 
 
 " O bolt and bar they fall away, 
 
 But heavy are Steingrim's feet to-day." 
 
 " O heavy the feet of one who bears 
 
 The longing of days and the grief of years ! 
 
 Lie down, lie down, thou lily- wand, 
 
 That on thy neck I may lay his hand. 
 
 Whether the King be lief or loth 
 
 To-day one bed shall hold you both. 
 
 O thou art still as he is still. 
 
 So sore as ye longed to talk your fill. 
 
 And good it were that I depart. 
 
 Now heart is laid so close to heart. 
 
 For sure ye shall talk so left alone, 
 
 Fair summer is on many a shield. 
 
 Of days to be below the stone." 
 
 Fair sing the swans 'twixt frth and f eld.
 
 SPRING'S BEDFELLOW 
 
 Spring went about the woods to-day, 
 The soft-foot winter-thief, 
 And found where idle sorrow lay 
 'Twixt flower and faded leaf. 
 
 She looked on him, and found him fair 
 For all she had been told ; 
 She knelt adown beside him there. 
 And sang of days of old. 
 
 His open eyes beheld her nought, 
 Yet 'gan his lips to move ; 
 But life and deeds were in her thought, 
 And he would sing of love. 
 
 So sang they till their eyes did meet, 
 And faded fear and shame ; 
 More bold he grew, and she more sweet, 
 Until they sang the same.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Until, say they who know the thing, 
 Their very lips did kiss, 
 And Sorrow laid abed with Spring 
 Begat an earthly bliss.
 
 MEETING IN WINTER 
 
 Winter in the world it is, 
 
 Round about the unhoped kiss 
 
 Whose dream I long have sorrowed o'er ; 
 
 Round about the longing sore, 
 
 That the touch of thee shall turn 
 
 Into joy too deep to burn. 
 
 Round thine eyes and round thy mouth 
 Passeth no murmur of the south. 
 When my lips a little while 
 Leave thy quivering tender smile, 
 As we twain, hand holding hand, 
 Once again together stand. 
 
 Sweet is that, as all is sweet ; 
 For the white drift shalt thou meet. 
 Kind and cold-cheeked and mine own, 
 Wrapped about with deep-furred gown 
 In the broad-wheeled chariot : 
 Then the north shall spare us not ; 
 The wide-reaching waste of snow 
 Wilder, lonelier yet shall grow
 
 6o POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 As the reddened sun falls down. 
 But the warders of the town, 
 When they flash the torches out 
 O'er the snow amid their doubt, 
 And their eyes at last behold 
 Thy red-litten hair of gold ; 
 Shall they open, or in fear 
 Cry, " Alas ! what cometh here? 
 Whence hath come this Heavenly One 
 To tell of all the world undone ? " 
 
 They shall open, and we shall see 
 The long street litten scantily 
 By the long stream of light before 
 The guest-hall's half-open door; 
 And our horses' bells shall cease 
 As we reach the place of peace ; 
 Thou shalt tremble, as at last 
 The worn threshold is o'er-past, 
 And the fire-light blindeth thee : 
 Trembling shalt thou cling to me 
 As the sleepy merchants stare 
 At thy cold hands slim and fair 
 Thy soft eyes and happy lips 
 Worth all lading of their ships. 
 
 O my love, how sweet and sweet 
 That first kissing of thy feet.
 
 MEETING IN WINTER 6i 
 
 When the fire is sunk alow, 
 And the hall made empty now 
 Groweth solemn, dim and vast ! 
 O my love, the night shall last 
 Longer than men tell thereof 
 Laden with our lonely love !
 
 THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O WINTER, O white winter, wert thou gone. 
 No more within the wilds were I alone, 
 Leaping with bent bow over stock and stone ! 
 
 No more alone my love the lamp should burn. 
 Watching the weary spindle twist and turn, 
 Or o'er the web hold back her tears and yearn : 
 O winter, O white winter, wert thou gone ! 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 Sweet thoughts fly swiftlier than the drifting snow, 
 And with the twisting threads sweet longings grow, 
 And o'er the web sweet pictures come and go. 
 For no white winter are we long alone. 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O stream so changed, what hast thou done to me, 
 That I thy glittering ford no more can see 
 
 Wreathing with white her fair feet lovingly ? 
 
 62
 
 THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER 63 
 
 See, in the rain she stands, and, looking down 
 With frightened eyes upon thy whirlpools brown, 
 Drops to her feet again her girded gown. 
 O hurrying turbid stream, what hast thou done? 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 The clouds lift, telling of a happier day 
 When through the thin stream I shall take my way, 
 Girt round with gold, and garlanded with may, 
 What rushing stream can keep us long alone? 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O burning Sun, O master of unrest, 
 Why must we, toiling, cast away the best, 
 Now, when the bird sleeps by her empty nest ? 
 
 See, with my garland lying at her feet, 
 In lonely labour stands mine own, my sweet. 
 Above the quern half-filled with half-ground wheat. 
 O red taskmaster, that thy flames were done ! 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 O love, to-night across the half-shorn plain 
 Shall I not go to meet the yellow wain, 
 A look of love at end of toil to gain ? 
 What flaming sun can keep us long alone ?
 
 64 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 To-morrow, said I, is grape gathering o'er; 
 To-morrow, and our loves are twinned no more. 
 To-morrow came, to bring us woe and war. 
 
 What have I done, that I should stand with these 
 Hearkening the dread shouts borne upon the breeze, 
 ^Vhile she, far off, sits weeping 'neath her trees ? 
 Alas, O kings, what is it ye have done ? 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 Come, love, delay not ; come, and slay my dread ! 
 Already is the banquet table spread ; 
 In the cool chamber flower-strewn is my bed : 
 Come, love, what king shall keep us long alone } 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O city, city, open thou thy gate! 
 
 See, with life snatched from out the hand of fate ! 
 
 How on thy glittering triumph I must wait ! 
 
 Are not her hands stretched out to me? Her eyes, 
 Grow they not weary as each new hope dies. 
 And lone before her still the long road hes ? 
 O golden city, fain would I be gone !
 
 THE TWO SIDES OF THE RIVER 65 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 And thou art happy, amid shouts and songs, 
 And all that unto conquering men belongs. 
 Night hath no fear for me, and day no wrongs. 
 What brazen city gates can keep us, lone ? 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O long, long road, how bare thou art, and grey ! 
 Hill after hill thou climbest, and the day 
 Is ended now, O moonlit endless way ! 
 
 And she is standing where the rushes grow, 
 .Vnd still with white hand shades her anxious brow. 
 Though 'neatli the world the sun is fallen now, 
 O dreary road, when \x\\\ thy leagues be done ? 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 O tremblest thou, grey road, or do my feet 
 Tremble with joy, thy flinty face to meet ? 
 Because my love's eyes soon mine eyes shall greet ? 
 No heart thou hast to keep us long alone. 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 O wilt thou ne'er depart, thou heavy night ? 
 When will thy slaying bring on the morning bright, 
 That leads my weary feet to my delight ? 
 
 E
 
 66 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Why lingerest thou, filling with wandering fears 
 My lone love's tired heart ; her eyes with tears 
 For thoughts like sorrow for the vanished years ? 
 Weaver of ill thoughts, when wilt thou be gone ? 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 Love, to the east are thine eyes turned as mine, 
 In patient watching for the night's decline ? 
 And hast thou noted this grey widening line? 
 Can any darkness keep us long alone? 
 
 THE YOUTHS 
 
 day, O day, is it a liltlc thing 
 
 That thou so long unto thy life must cling, 
 Because I gave thee such a welcoming? 
 
 1 called thee king of all felicity, 
 
 1 praised thee that thou broughtest joy so nigh ; 
 Thine hours are turned to years, thou wilt not die; 
 O day so longed for, would that thou wert gone ! 
 
 THE MAIDENS 
 
 The light fails, love ; the long day soon shall be 
 Nought but a pensive happy memory 
 Blessed for the tales it told to thee and me. 
 How hard it was, O love, to be alone.
 
 LOVE FULFILLED 
 
 Hast thou longed through weary days 
 For the sight of one loved face ? 
 Hast thou cried aloud for rest, 
 Mid the pain of sundering hours ; 
 Cried aloud for sleep and death, 
 vSince the sweet unhoped for best 
 Was a shadow and a breath ? 
 O, long now, for no fear lowers 
 O'er these faint feet-kissing flowers. 
 O, rest now ; and yet in sleep 
 All thy longing shalt thou keep. 
 
 Thou shalt rest and have no fear 
 
 Of a dull awaking near, 
 
 Of a life for ever blind, 
 
 Uncontent and waste and wide. 
 
 Thou shalt wake and think it sweet 
 
 That thy love is near and kind. 
 
 Sweeter still for lips to meet ; 
 
 Sweetest that thine heart doth hide 
 
 Longing all unsatisfied 
 
 With all longing's answering 
 
 Howsoever close ye cling. 
 67
 
 68 POEMS BY THE WAV 
 
 Thou rememberest how of old 
 E'en thy very pain grew cold, 
 How thou might'st not measure bliss 
 E'en when eyes and hands drew nigh. 
 Thou rememberest all regret 
 For the scarce remembered kiss, 
 The lost dream of how they met, 
 Mouths once parched with misery. 
 Then seemed Love born but to die, 
 Now unrest, pain, bliss are one, 
 Love, unhidden and alone.
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S SONS 
 
 In Denmark gone is many a year, 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sun, 
 Two sons of Gorm the King there were. 
 So grey is the sea when day is done. 
 
 Both these were gotten in lawful bed 
 Of Thyrre Denmark's Surety-head, 
 
 Fair was Knut of face and limb 
 
 As the breast of the Queen that suckled him. 
 
 But Harald was hot of hand and heart 
 As lips of lovers ere they part. 
 
 Knut sat at home in all men's love, 
 But over the seas must Harald rove. 
 
 And for every deed by Harald won, 
 Gorm laid more love on Knut alone. 
 
 On a high-tide spake the King in hall, 
 
 " Old I grow as the leaves that fall. 
 69
 
 70 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " Knut shall reign when I am dead, 
 So shall the land have peace and aid. 
 
 " But many a ship shall Harald have, 
 
 For I deem the sea well wrought for his grave. 
 
 Then none spake save the King again, 
 " If Knut die all my days be vain. 
 
 " And whoso the tale of his death shall tell. 
 Hath spoken a word to gain him hell. 
 
 " Lo here a doom I will not break," 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sun. 
 " For life or death or any man's sake," 
 So grey is the sen zi'hen day is done. 
 
 O merry days in the summer-tide! 
 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sun. 
 
 When the ships sail fair and the young men ride, 
 
 So grey is the sea when day is done. 
 
 Now Harald has got him east away, 
 
 And each morrow of fight was a gainful day. 
 
 But Knut is to his fosterer gone 
 To deal in deeds of peace alone.
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S SONS 7 
 
 So wear the days, and well it is 
 
 Such lovely lords should dwell in bliss. 
 
 O merry in the winter-tide 
 
 When men to Yule-feast wend them wide. 
 
 And here lieth Knut in the Lima-firth 
 When the lift is low o'er the Danish earth. 
 
 "Tell me now, Shipmaster mine, 
 
 What are yon torches there that shine ? " 
 
 " Lord, no torches may these be, 
 But golden prows across the sea. 
 
 " For over there the sun shines now 
 
 And the gold worms gape from every prow." 
 
 The sun and the wind came down o'er the sea, 
 " Tell them over how many they be ! " 
 
 " Ten I tell with shield-hung sides. 
 Nought but a fool his death abides." 
 
 " Ten thou tellest, and we be three, 
 Good need that we do manfully. 
 
 "Good fellows, grip the shield and spenr, 
 For Harald my brother draweth near.
 
 72 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " Well breakfast we when night is done, 
 And \'alhall's cock crows up the sun." 
 
 Up spoke Harald in wrathful case : 
 
 " I would have word with this waxen face ! 
 
 "What wilt thou pay, thou hucksterer, 
 That I let thee live another year ? 
 
 " For oath that thou wilt never reign 
 Will I k't thee live a year or twain." 
 
 " Kisses and love shalt thou have of me 
 If yet my liegeman thou wilt be. 
 
 "But stroke of sword, and dint of axe, 
 Or ere thou makest my face as wax." 
 
 As thick the arrows fell around 
 
 As fall sere leaves on autumn ground. 
 
 In many a cheek the red did wane 
 No maid might ever kiss again. 
 
 " Lay me aboard," Lord Harald said, 
 " The winter day will soon be dead ! 
 
 " Lay me aboard the bastard's ship, 
 And see to it lest your grapnels slip ! "
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S SONS 73 
 
 Then some they knelt and some they drowned, 
 And some lay dead Lord Knut around. 
 
 " Look here at the wax-white corpse of him 
 As fair as the Queen in face and limb ! 
 
 " Make now for the shore, for the moon is bright, 
 And I would be home ere the end of night. 
 
 " Two sons last night had Thyrre the Queen, 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sun. 
 And both she may lack ere the woods wax green," 
 So grey is the sea when day is done. 
 
 A little before the morning tide, 
 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sttn, 
 
 Queen Thyrre looked out of her window-side, 
 
 So grey is the sea when day is done. 
 
 " O men-at-arms, what men be ye ? " 
 " Harald thy son come over the sea." 
 
 " Why is thy face so pale, my son ? " 
 " It may be red or day is done." 
 
 " O evil words of an evil hour ! 
 
 Come, sweet son, to thy mother's bower ! "
 
 74 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 None from the Queen's bower went that day 
 Till dark night over the meadows lay. 
 
 None thenceforth heard wail or cry 
 Till the Kins's feast was waxen hi^rh. 
 
 Then into the hall Lord Harald came 
 AVhen the G;reat wax lifrhts were all aflame. 
 
 " ^Yhat tidings, son, dost thou bear to me? 
 Speak out before I drink with thee." 
 
 " Tidings small for a seafarer. 
 I'wo falcons in the sea-cliffs were; 
 
 " And one was white and one was grey, 
 And they fell to battle on a day ; 
 
 " They fought in the sun, they fought in the wind, 
 No boot the white fowl's wounds to bind. 
 
 " They fought in the wind, they fought in the sun, 
 And the white fowl died when the play was done." 
 
 " Small tidings these to bear o'er the sea ! 
 Good hap that nothing worser they be I 
 
 " Small tidings for a travelled man ! 
 Drink with me, son, wliiles yet ye can!
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S SONS 75 
 
 " Drink with me ere thy day and mine, 
 So fair upriseth the riin of the sun, 
 Be nought but a tale told over the wine." 
 So grey is the sea ivhen day is done. 
 
 Now fareth the King with his men to sleep, 
 
 So fair upriseth the rim of the sim, 
 
 And dim the maids from the Queen's bower creep, 
 
 So grey is the sea when day is done. 
 
 And in the hall is little light, 
 
 And there standeth the Queen with cheeks full white. 
 
 And soft the feet of women fall 
 
 From end to end of the King's great hall. 
 
 These bear the gold-wrought cloths away, 
 And in other wise the hall array ; 
 
 Till all is black that hath been gold 
 So heavy a tale there must be told. 
 
 The morrow men looked on King Gorm and said, 
 " Hath he dreamed a dream or beheld the dead? 
 
 " Why is he sad who should be gay ? 
 Why are the old man's lips so grey ? "
 
 76 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Slow paced the King adown the hall, 
 Nor looked aside to cither wall, 
 
 Till in high-seat there he sat him down, 
 And deadly old men deemed him grown. 
 
 " O Queen, what thrall's hands durst do this, 
 To strip my hall of mirth and bliss ? " 
 
 " No thrall's hands in the hangings were, 
 No thrall's hands made the tenters bare. 
 
 " King's daughters' hands have done the deed, 
 The hands of Denmark's Surety-head." 
 
 " Nought betters the deed thy word unsaid. 
 Tell me that Knut my son is dead ! " 
 
 She said : " The doom on thee, O King! 
 For thine own lips have said the thing." 
 
 Men looked to see the King arise. 
 The death of men within his eyes. 
 
 Men looked to see his bitter sword 
 
 That once cleared ships from board to board. 
 
 But in the hall no sword gleamed wide, 
 His hand fell down alons his side.
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S SONS 7 
 
 No red there came into his cheek, 
 He fell aback as one made weak. 
 
 His wan cheek brushed the high-seat's side, 
 And in the noon of day he died. 
 
 So lieth King Gorm beneath the grass, 
 But from mouth to mouth this tale did pass. 
 
 And Harald reigned and went his way, 
 So fair upriseth the run of the sun. 
 And still is the story told to-day. 
 So grey is the sea zv/ien day is done.
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
 
 PUELL.^ 
 
 Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou ? 
 Abide ! abide ! longer the shadows grow ; 
 What hopest thou the dark to thee will show ? 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 A MANS 
 
 Why should I name the land across the sea 
 
 Wherein I first took hold on misery ? 
 
 Why should I name the land that flees from me ? 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL.E 
 
 What wilt thou do within the desert place 
 Whereto thou turnest now thy careful face ? 
 Stay but a while to tell us of thy case. 
 
 Abide ! abide ' for we are happy here. 
 
 7»
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 79 
 
 AMANS 
 
 What, nigh the journey's end shall I abide, 
 When in the waste mine own love wanders wide. 
 When from all men for me she still doth hide ? 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL/E 
 
 Nay, nay ; but rather she forgetteth thee, 
 To sit upon the shore of some warm sea, 
 Or in green gardens where sweet fountains be. 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 AMANS 
 
 Will ye then keep me from the wilderness. 
 
 Where I at least, alone with my distress. 
 
 The quiet land of changing dreams may bless ? 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELI..^: 
 
 Forget the false forgetter and be wise, 
 
 And 'mid these clinging hands and loving eyes, 
 
 Dream, not in vain, thou knowest paradise. 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here.
 
 8o POEMS BV TllK WAY 
 
 AMANS 
 
 All ! with your sweet eyes shorten not the day. 
 Nor let your gentle hands my journey stay ! 
 Perchance love is not wholly cast away. 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL.*: 
 
 Pluck love away as thou wouldst pluck a thorn 
 From out thy flesh : for why shouldst thou be born 
 To bear a life so wasted and forlorn ? 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 AMANS 
 
 Yea, why then was I born, since hope is pain. 
 And life a lingering death, and faith but vain, 
 And love the loss of all I seemed to gain ? 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL^E 
 
 Dost thou believe that this shall ever be. 
 That in our land no face thou e'er shalt see, 
 No voice thou e'er shalt hear to gladden thee ? 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here.
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE WH.DERNESS Si 
 
 AMANS 
 
 No longer do I know of good or bad, 
 I have forgotten that I once was glad ; 
 I do but chase a dream that I have had. 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL.E 
 
 Stay ! take one image for thy dreamful night; 
 Come, look at her, who in the world's despite 
 Weeps for delaying love and lost dehght. 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 AMANS 
 
 Mock me not till to-morrow. Mock the dead, 
 They will not heed it, or turn round the head. 
 To note who faithless are, and who are wed. 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL/E 
 
 We mock thee not. Hast thou not heard of those 
 Whose faithful love the loved heart holds so close. 
 That death must wait till one word lets it loose ? 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 F
 
 82 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 AMANS 
 
 I hear you not : the wind from off the waste 
 Sighs Hke a song that bids me make good haste 
 The wave of sweet forgetfulness to taste. 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL.^ 
 
 Come back ! like such a singer is the wind, 
 As to a sad tune sings fair words and kind, 
 That he with happy tears all eyes may blind ! 
 
 Abide ! abide ! for we are happy here. 
 
 AMANS 
 
 Did I not hear her sweet voice cry from far. 
 That o'er the lonely waste fair fields there are, 
 Fair days that know not any change or care ? 
 
 Let me depart, since ye are happy here. 
 
 PUELL-^ 
 
 Oh, no ! not far thou heardest her, but nigh ; 
 Nigh, 'tWLxt the waste's edge and the darkling sky. 
 Turn back again, too soon it is to die. 
 
 Abide ! a little while be happy here.
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 83 
 
 AMANS 
 
 How with the lapse of lone years could I strive, 
 
 And can I die now that thou biddest live ? 
 
 What joy this space 'twixt birth and death can give. 
 
 Can we depart, who are so happy here ?
 
 A GARDEN BY THE SEA 
 
 I KNOW a little garden-close, 
 Set thick with lily and red rose, 
 Where I would wander if I might 
 From dewy morn to dewy night, 
 And have one with me wandering;. 
 
 And though within it no birds sing, 
 And though no pillared house is there, 
 And though the apple-boughs are bare 
 Of fruit and blossom, would to God 
 Her feet upon the green grass trod. 
 And I beheld them as before. 
 
 There comes a murmur from the shore, 
 And in the close two fair streams are, 
 Drawn from the purple hills afar, 
 Drawn down unto the restless sea : 
 Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee. 
 Dark shore no ship has ever seen, 
 Tormented by the billows green 
 Whose murmur comes unceasingly 
 Unto the place for which I cry. 
 84
 
 A GARDEN BY THE SEA 85 
 
 For which I cry both day and night, 
 For which I let sHp all delight, 
 Whereby I grow both deaf and blind, 
 Careless to win, unskilled to find, 
 And quick to lose what all men seek. 
 
 Yet tottering as I am and weak. 
 
 Still have I left a little breath 
 
 To seek within the jaws of death 
 
 An entrance to that happy place. 
 
 To seek the unforgotten face. 
 
 Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me 
 
 Anigh the murmuring of the sea.
 
 MOTHER AND SON 
 
 Now sleeps the land of houses, 
 
 and dead night holds the street, 
 
 And there thou liest, my baby, 
 
 and sleepest soft and sweet ; 
 
 My man is away for awhile, 
 
 but safe and alone we lie. 
 
 And none heareth thy breath but thy mother, 
 
 and the moon looking down from the sky 
 
 On the weary waste of the town, 
 
 as it looked on the grass-edged road 
 
 Still warm with yesterday's sun, 
 
 when I left my old abode ; 
 
 Hand in hand \vith my love, 
 
 that night of all nights in the year; 
 
 When the river of love o'erfiowed 
 
 and drowned all doubt and fear, 
 
 And we two were alone in the world, 
 
 and once if never again, 
 
 We knew of the secret of earth 
 
 and the tale of its labour and pain. 
 
 86
 
 MOTHER AND SON 87 
 
 Lo amidst London I lift thee, 
 
 and how little and light thou art, 
 
 And thou without hope or fear 
 
 thou fear and hope of my heart ! 
 
 Lo here thy body beginning, 
 
 O son, and thy soul and thy Ufe ; 
 
 But how will it be if thou livest, 
 
 and enterest into the strife, 
 
 And in love we dwell together 
 
 when the man is grown in thee, 
 
 When thy sweet speech I shall hearken, 
 
 and yet 'twixt thee and me 
 
 Shall rise that wall of distance, 
 
 that round each one doth grow. 
 
 And maketh it hard and bitter 
 
 each other's thought to know. 
 
 Now, therefore, while yet thou art little 
 and hast no thought of thine own, 
 I will tell thee a word of the world ; 
 of the hope whence thou hast grown ; 
 Of the love that once begat thee, 
 of the sorrow that hath made 
 Thy little heart of hunger, 
 and thy hands on my bosom laid. 
 Then mayst thou remember hereafter, 
 as whiles when people say
 
 88 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 All this hath happened before 
 
 in the life of another day ; 
 
 So mayst thou dimly remember 
 
 this tale of thy mother's voice, 
 
 As oft in the calm of dawning 
 
 I have heard the birds rejoice, 
 
 As oft I have heard the storm-wind 
 
 go moaning through the wood ; 
 
 And I knew that earth was speaking, 
 
 and the mother's voice was good. 
 
 Now, to thee alone will I tell it 
 
 that thy mother's body is fair, 
 
 In the guise of the country maidens 
 
 Who play with the sun and the air ; 
 
 Who have stood in the row of the reapers 
 
 in the August afternoon. 
 
 Who have sat by the frozen water 
 
 in the high day of the moon. 
 
 When the lights of the Christmas feasting 
 
 were dead in the house on the hill, 
 
 And the wild geese gone to the salt-marsh 
 
 had left the winter still. 
 
 Yea, I am fair, my firstling ; 
 
 if thou couldst but remember me ! 
 
 The hair that thy small hand clutcheth 
 
 is a goodly sight to see ;
 
 MOTHER AND SON 89 
 
 I am true, but my face is a snare ; 
 
 soft and deep are my eyes, 
 
 And they seem for men's beguiling 
 
 fulfilled with the dreams of the wise. 
 
 Kind are my lips, and they look 
 
 as though my soul had learned 
 
 Deep things I have never heard of. 
 
 My face and my hands are burned 
 
 By the lovely sun of the acres ; 
 
 three months of London town 
 
 And thy birth-bed have bleached them indeed, 
 
 "But lo, where the edge of the gown " 
 
 (So said thy father) " is parting 
 
 the wrist that is white as the curd 
 
 From the brown of the hand that I love, 
 
 bright as the wing of a bird." 
 
 Such is thy mother, O firstling, 
 
 yet strong as the maidens of old. 
 
 Whose spears and whose swords were the warders 
 
 of homestead, of field, and of fold. 
 
 Oft were my feet on the highway, 
 
 often they wearied the grass ; 
 
 From dusk unto dusk of the summer 
 
 three times in a week would I pass 
 
 To the downs from the house on the river 
 
 through the waves of the blossoming corn.
 
 90 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Fair then I lay down in the even, 
 
 and fresh I arose on the morn, 
 
 And scarce in the noon was I weary. 
 
 Ah, son, in the days of thy strife, 
 
 If thy soul could but harbour a dream 
 
 of the blossom of my life ! 
 
 It would be as the sunlit meadows 
 
 beheld from a tossing sea^ 
 
 And thy soul should look on a vision 
 
 of the peace that is to be. 
 
 Yet, yet the tears on my cheek ! 
 
 and what is this doth move 
 
 My heart to thy heart, beloved, 
 
 save the flood ot yearning love ? 
 
 For fair and fierce is thy father, 
 
 and soft and strange are his eyes 
 
 That look on the days that shall be 
 
 with the hope of the brave and the wise. 
 
 It was many a day that we laughed, 
 
 as over the meadows we walked. 
 
 And many a day I hearkened 
 
 and the pictures came as he talked ; 
 
 It was many a day that we longed, 
 
 and we lingered late at eve 
 
 Ere speech from speech was sundered, 
 
 and my hand his hand could leave.
 
 MOTHER AND SON 91 
 
 Then I wept when I was alone, 
 
 and I longed till the daylight came ; 
 
 And down the stairs I stole, 
 
 and there was our housekeeping dame 
 
 (No mother of me, the foundling) 
 
 kindling the fire betimes 
 
 Ere the haymaking folk went forth 
 
 to the meadows down by the limes ; 
 
 All things I saw at a glance ; 
 
 the quickening fire-tongues leapt 
 
 Through the crackling heap of sticks, 
 
 and the sweet smoke up from it crept, 
 
 And close to the very hearth 
 
 the low sun flooded the floor, 
 
 And the cat and her kittens played 
 
 in the sun by the open door. 
 
 The garden was fair in the morning, 
 
 and there in the road he stood 
 
 Beyond the crimson daisies 
 
 and the bush of southernwood. 
 
 Then side by side together 
 
 through the grey-walled place we went, 
 
 And O the fear departed, 
 
 and the rest and sweet content ! 
 
 Son, sorrow and wisdom he taught me, 
 and sore I grieved and learned
 
 92 POEMS BY THE WAV 
 
 As we twain grew into one ; 
 
 and the heart within me burned 
 
 With the very hopes of his heart. 
 
 Ah, son, it is piteous. 
 
 But never again in my Hfe 
 
 shall I dare to speak to thee thus ; 
 
 So may these lonely words 
 
 about thee creep and cling, 
 
 These words of the lonely night 
 
 in the days of our wayfaring. 
 
 Many a child of woman 
 
 to-night is born in the town, 
 
 The desert of folly and wrong ; 
 
 and of what and whence arc they grown ? 
 
 Many and many an one 
 
 of wont and use is born ; 
 
 For a husband is taken to bed 
 
 as a hat or a ribbon is worn. 
 
 Prudence begets her thousands ; 
 
 " good is a housekeeper's life, 
 
 So shall I sell my body 
 
 that I may be matron and wife." 
 
 '* And I shall endure foul wedlock 
 
 and bear the children of need." 
 
 Some are there born of hate, 
 
 many the children of greed. 
 
 " I, I too can be wedded, 
 
 though thou my love hast got."
 
 MOTHER AND SON 93 
 
 " I am fair and hard of heart, 
 
 and riches shall be my lot." 
 
 And all these are the good and the happy, 
 
 on whom the world dawns fair. 
 
 O son, when wilt thou learn 
 
 of those that are born of despair. 
 
 As the fabled mud of the Nile 
 
 that quickens under the sun 
 
 With a growth of creeping things, 
 
 half dead when just begun ? 
 
 E'en such is the care of Nature 
 
 that man should never die, 
 
 Though she breed of the fools of the earth, 
 
 and the dregs of the city sty. 
 
 But thou, O son, O son, 
 
 of very love wert born. 
 
 When our hope fulfilled bred hope, 
 
 and fear was a folly outworn. 
 
 On the eve of the toil and the battle 
 
 all sorrow and grief we weighed. 
 
 We hoped and we were not ashamed, 
 
 we knew and we were not afraid. 
 
 Now waneth the night and the moon; 
 
 ah, son, it is piteous 
 
 That never again in my life 
 
 shall I dare to speak to thee thus.
 
 94 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 But sure from the wise and the simple 
 
 shall the mighty come to birth ; 
 
 And fair were my fate, beloved, 
 
 if I be yet on the earth 
 
 When the world is awaken at last, 
 
 and from mouth to mouth they tell 
 
 Of thy love and thy deeds and thy valour, 
 
 and thy hope that nought can quell.
 
 THUNDER IN THE GARDEN 
 
 When the boughs of the garden hang heavy with rain 
 
 And the blackbird reneweth his song, 
 
 And the thunder departing yet rolleth again, 
 
 I remember the ending of wrong. 
 
 When the day that was dusk while his death was 
 
 aloof 
 Is ending wide-gleaming and strange 
 For the clearness of all things beneath the world's 
 
 roof, 
 I call back the wild chancj and the change. 
 
 For once we twain sat through the hot afternoon 
 \Vhile the rain held aloof for a while, 
 Till she, the soft-clad, for the glory of June 
 Changed all with the change of her smile. 
 
 For her smile was of longing, no longer of glee. 
 And her fingers, entwined with mine own. 
 With caresses unfjuiet sought kindness of me 
 For the gift that I never had known.
 
 96 POEMS BV THE WAY 
 
 Then down rushed the rain, and the voice of the 
 
 thunder 
 Smote dumb all the sound of the street, 
 And I to myself was grown nought but a wonder, 
 As she leaned down my kisses to meet. 
 
 That she craved for my lips that had craved her so 
 
 often, 
 And the hand that had trembled to touchy 
 That the tears filled her eyes I had hoped not to 
 
 soften 
 In this world was a marvel too much. 
 
 It was dusk 'mid the thunder, dusk e'en as the 
 
 night, 
 When first brake out our love like the storm, 
 But no night-hour was it, and back came the light 
 While our hands with each other were warm. 
 
 And her smile killed with kisses, came back as at first 
 As she rose up and led me along, 
 And out to the garden, where nought was athirst, 
 And the blackbird rene\Ying his song. 
 
 Earth's fragrance went with her, as in the wet grass. 
 Her feet little hidden were set ; 
 She bent down her head, 'neath the roses to pass, 
 And her arm with the lily was wet.
 
 THUNDER IN THE GARDEN 97 
 
 In the garden we wandered while day waned apace 
 And the thunder was dying aloof; 
 Till the moon o'er the minster-wall lifted his face, 
 And grey gleamed out the lead of the roof. 
 
 Then we turned from the blossoms, and cold were 
 
 they grown : 
 In the trees the wind westering moved ; 
 Till over the threshold back fluttered her gown, 
 And in the dark house was I loved.
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR 
 
 There was a lord that hight Maltete, 
 Among great lords he was right great, 
 On poor folk trod he like the dirt, 
 None but God might do him hurt. 
 Deiis est Dens paupenun. 
 
 With a grace of prayers sung loud and late 
 Many a widow's house he ate; 
 Many a poor knight at his hands 
 Lost his house and narrow lands. 
 Deus est Dens paupcriini. 
 
 He burnt the harvests many a time, 
 He made fair houses heaps of lime ; 
 Whatso man loved wife or maid 
 Of Evil-head was sore afraid. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 He slew good men and spared the bad ; 
 Too long a day the foul dog had. 
 E'en as all dogs will have their day ; 
 But God is as strong as man, I say. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR 99 
 
 For a valiant knight, men called Boncoeiir, 
 Had hope he should not long endure, 
 And gathered to him much good folk, 
 Hardy hearts to break the yoke. 
 Deus est Dens paupenim. 
 
 But Boncoeur deemed it would be vain 
 To strive his guarded house to gain ; 
 Therefore, within a little while, 
 He set himself to work by guile. 
 Deus est Dcits pauper inn. 
 
 He knew that Maltetc loved right well 
 
 Red gold and heavy. If from hell 
 
 The Devil had cried, " Take this gold cup," 
 
 Down had he gone to fetch it up. 
 
 Deus est Deus paupenim. 
 
 Twenty poor men's lives were nought 
 To him, beside a ring well wrought. 
 The pommel of his hunting-knife 
 Was worth ten times a poor man's life. 
 Deus est Deus paupenim. 
 
 A squire new-come from over-sea 
 Boncoeur called to him privily. 
 And when he knew his lord's intent, 
 Clad like a churl therefrom he went. 
 Deus est Deus paupenim.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 But when he came where dwelt Maltete, 
 With few words did he pass the gate, 
 For Maltete built him walls anew, 
 And, w^ageless, folk from field he drew. 
 Dens est Dciis paiiperiim. 
 
 Now passed the squire through this and that. 
 Till he came to where Sir Maltete sat, 
 And over red wine wagged his beard : 
 Then spoke the squire as one afeard. 
 Dens est Deits pauper urn. 
 
 " Lord, give me grace, for privily 
 
 I have a little word for thee." 
 
 " Speak out," said Maltete, " have no fear, 
 
 For how can thy life to thee be dear ? " 
 
 Deus est Dens paupennn. 
 
 " Such an one I know," he said, 
 " Who hideth store of money red." 
 Maltete grinned at him cruelly : 
 " Thou florin-maker, come anigh." 
 Deus est Deus paupenan. 
 
 " E'en such as thou once preached of gold, 
 And showed me lies in books full old, 
 Nought gat I but evil brass. 
 Therefore came he to the worser pass." 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR loi 
 
 " Hast thou will to see his skin ? 
 I keep my heaviest marks therein, 
 For since nought else of wealth had he, 
 I deemed full well he owed it me." 
 Deus est Deiis panperiim. 
 
 " Nought know I of philosophy," 
 The other said, " nor do I lie. 
 Before the moon begins to shine, 
 May all this heap of gold be thine." 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 " Ten leagues from this a man there is, 
 Who seemeth to know but little bliss. 
 And yet full many a pound of gold 
 A dry well nigh his house doth hold." 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 " John-a-Wood is he called, fair lord. 
 Nor know I whence he hath this hoard." 
 Then Maltete said, " As God made me, 
 A wizard over-bold is he ! " 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 *' It were a good deed, as I am a knight, 
 To burn him in a fire bright ; 
 This John-a-Wood shall surely die, 
 And his gold in my strong chest shall lie." 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 I02 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 "This very night, I make mine avow, 
 The truth of this mine eyes shall know." 
 Then spoke an old knight in the hall, 
 " Who knoweth what things may befall ? " 
 Dens est Dciis pauperum. 
 
 " I rede thee go with a great rout, 
 For thy foes they ride thick about." 
 " Thou and the devil may keep my foes. 
 Thou redest me this gold to lose." 
 Deus est Dens pauperum. 
 
 '■ I shall go with but some four or five. 
 
 So shall I take my thief alive. 
 
 For if a great rout he shall see, 
 
 Will he not hide his wealth from me ? " 
 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 The old knight muttered under his breath, 
 " Then mayhap ye shall but ride to death. 
 But Maltete turned him quickly round, 
 " Bind me this grey-beard under ground ! ' 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 " Because ye are old, ye think to jape. 
 Take heed, ye shall not long escape. 
 When I come back safe, old carle, perdie. 
 Thine head shall brush the linden-tree." 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 THE GOD OP^ THE POOR lo: 
 
 Therewith he rode with his five men, 
 And Boncoeur's spy, for good leagues ten. 
 Until they left the beaten way, 
 And dusk it grew at end of day. 
 Dens est Deus panpennn. 
 
 There, in a clearing of the wood, 
 Was John's house, neither fair nor good. 
 In a ragged plot his house anigh, 
 Thin coleworts grew but wretchedly. 
 Deus est Deus pauper um. 
 
 John-a-Wood in his doorway sat, 
 Turning over this and that. 
 And chiefly how he best might thrive, 
 For he had will enough to live. 
 Deus est Deus pauper um. 
 
 Green coleworts from a wooden bowl 
 He ate ; but careful was his soul, 
 For if he saw another day, 
 Thenceforth was he in Boncoeur's pay. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 So when he saw how Maltete came, 
 He said, " Beginneth now the game ! " 
 And in the doorway did he stand 
 Trembling, with hand joined fast to hand. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 I04 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 When Maltete did this carle behold 
 Somewhat he doubted of his gold, 
 But cried out, " Where is now thy store 
 Thou hast through books of wicked lore ? 
 Dens est Deiis pauperimt. 
 
 Then said the poor man, right humbly, 
 " Fair lord, this was not made by me, 
 I found it in mine own dry well, 
 And had a mind thy grace to tell. 
 Deus est Deus paiipenim, 
 
 " Therefrom, my lord, a cup I took 
 This day, that thou thereon mightst look. 
 And know me to be leal and true," 
 And from his coat the cup he drew. 
 Deus est Deus pauper um. 
 
 Then Maltete took it in his hand, 
 Nor knew he aught that it used to stand 
 On Bonccjcur's cupboard many a day. 
 " Go on," he said, " and show the way. 
 Deus est Deus pauper um. 
 
 " Give me thy gold, and thou shalt live, 
 Yea, in my house thou well mayst thrive.' 
 John turned about and 'gan to go 
 Unto the wood with footsteps slow. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR 105 
 
 But as they passed by John's woodstack, 
 Growled Maltete, " Nothing now doth lack 
 Wherewith to light a merry fire, 
 And give my wizard all his hire." 
 Dens est Dens pauperum. 
 
 The western sky was red as blood, 
 Darker grew the oaken-wood ; 
 '* Thief and carle, where are ye gone ? 
 Why are we in the wood alone ? 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 " What is the sound of this mighty horn ? 
 Ah, God ! that ever I was born ! 
 The basnets flash from tree to tree; 
 Show me, thou Christ, the way to flee ! " 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 Boncoeur it was with fifty men ; 
 Maltete was but one to ten, 
 And his own folk prayed for grace, 
 With empty hands in that lone place. 
 Deus est Deus pauperum. 
 
 " Grace shall ye have," Boncoeur said, 
 " All of you but Evil-head." 
 Lowly could that great lord be. 
 Who could pray so well as he ? 
 Deus est Deus pauperum.
 
 io6 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Then could Maltete howl and cry, 
 Little will he had to die. 
 Soft was his speech, now it was late, 
 But who had will to save Maltete ? 
 Dcits est Dciis patiperiun. 
 
 They brought him to the house again. 
 And toward the road he looked in vain. 
 Lonely and bare was the great highway, 
 Under the gathering moonlight grey. 
 Dens est Dens pauper nm. 
 
 They took off his gilt basnet, 
 That he should die there was no let ; 
 They took off his coat of steel, 
 iV damned man he well might feel. 
 Deus est Dens panpenan. 
 
 " Will ye all be rich as kings, 
 
 Lacking naught of all good things ? " 
 
 " Nothing do we lack this eve; 
 
 When thou art dead, how can w^e grieve ? 
 
 Dens est Dens panpernm. 
 
 " Let me drink water ere I die, 
 None henceforth comes my lips anigh." 
 They brought it him in that bowl of wood 
 He said, " This is but poor men's blood ! 
 Dens est Dens panpernm.
 
 THE GOD OF THE POOR 107 
 
 They brought it him in the cup of gold. 
 He said, " The women I have sold 
 Have wept it full of salt for me ; 
 I shall die gaping thirstily." 
 Dens est Dens pauperitm. 
 
 On the threshold of that poor homestead 
 They smote off his evil head ) 
 They set it high on a great spear, 
 And rode away with merry cheer. 
 Dens est Dens pauperiini. 
 
 At the dawn, in lordly state, 
 They rode to Maltete's castle-gate. 
 " Whoso willeth laud to win, 
 Make haste to let your masters in ! " 
 Deus est Dens paitperum. 
 
 Forthwith opened they the gate, 
 No man was sorry for Maltete. 
 Boncceur conquered all his lands, 
 A good knight was he of his hands. 
 Deus est Deus paitperum. 
 
 Good men he loved, and hated bad ; 
 Joyful days and sweet he had ; 
 Good deeds did he plenteously ; 
 Beneath him folk lived frank and free. 
 Deus est Deus pauperuni.
 
 io8 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 He lived long, with merry days ; 
 None said aught of him but praise. 
 God on him have full mercy ; 
 A good knight merciful was he. 
 Dens est Dens paupernm. 
 
 The great lord, called Maltete, is dead ; 
 Grass grows above his feet and head, 
 And a holly-bush grows up between 
 His rib-bones gotten white and clean. 
 Deus est Dens panpcrum. 
 
 A carle's sheep-dog certainly 
 
 Is a mightier thing than he. 
 
 Till London-bridge shall cross the Nen, 
 
 Take we heed of such-like men. 
 
 Dens est Dens panpernm.
 
 LOVE'S REWARD 
 
 It was a knight of the southern land 
 Rode forth upon the way 
 When the birds sang sweet on either hand 
 About the middle of the May. 
 
 But when he came to the lily-close, 
 Thereby so fair a maiden stood, 
 That neither the lily nor the rose 
 Seemed any longer fair nor good. 
 
 " All hail, thou rose and lily-bough ! 
 What dost thou weeping here. 
 For the days of May are sweet enow. 
 And the nights of May are dear ? " 
 
 "Well may I weep and make my moan, 
 
 Who am bond and captive here ; 
 
 Well may I weep who lie alone. 
 
 Though May be waxen dear." 
 109
 
 no POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 '* And is there none shall ransom thee ? 
 Mayst thou no borrow find ? " 
 " Nay, what man may my borrow be, 
 When all my wealth is left behind 1' " 
 
 " Perchance some ring is left with thee, 
 Some belt that did thy body bind ? " 
 " Nay, no man may my borrow be, 
 My rings and belt are left behind." 
 
 " The shoes that the May-blooms kissed on thee 
 Might yet be things to some men's mind." 
 " Nay, no man may my borrow be, 
 My golden shoes are left behind." 
 
 " The milk-white sark that covered thee 
 A dear-bought token some should find." 
 " Nay, no man may my borrow be, 
 My silken sark is left behind." 
 
 " The kiss of thy mouth and the love of thee 
 Better than world's wealth should I find." 
 "Nay, thou mayst not my borrow be, 
 For all my love is left behind. 
 
 " A year agone come Midsummer-night 
 I woke by the Northern sea ; 
 I lay and dreamed of my delight 
 Till love no more would let me be.
 
 LOVE'S REWARD iii 
 
 " Seaward I went by night and cloud 
 To hear the white swans sing ; 
 But though they sang both clear and loud, 
 I hearkened a sweeter thing. 
 
 " O sweet and sweet as none may tell 
 Was the speech so close 'twixt lip and lip : 
 But fast, unseen, the black oars fell 
 That drave to shore the rover's ship. 
 
 " My love lay bloody on the strand 
 Ere stars were waxen wan : 
 Naught lacketh graves the Northern land 
 If to-day it lack a lovelier man. 
 
 "I sat and wept beside the mast 
 
 When the stars were gone away. 
 
 Naught lacketh the Northland joy gone past 
 
 If it lack the night and day." 
 
 " Is there no place in any land 
 Where thou wouldst rather be than here ? " 
 " Yea, a lone grave on a cold sea-strand 
 My heart for a little holdeth dear." 
 
 " Of all the deeds that women do 
 Is there none shall bring thee some delight ? " 
 " To lie down and die where lay we two 
 Upon Midsummer night."
 
 112 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " I will bring thee there where thou wouldst be, 
 
 A borrow shalt thou find." 
 
 " Wherewith shall I reward it thee 
 
 For wealth and good-hap left behind ? " 
 
 " A kiss from lips that love not me, 
 A good-night somewhat kind ; 
 A narrow house to share with thee 
 When we leave the world behind." 
 
 They have taken ship and sailed away 
 Across the Southland main ; 
 They have sailed by hills were green and gay, 
 A land of goods and gain. 
 
 They have sailed by sea-cliffs stark and white 
 And hillsides fair enow ; 
 They have sailed by lands of little night 
 Where great the groves did grow. 
 
 They have sailed by islands in the sea 
 That the clouds lay thick about ; 
 And into a main where few ships be 
 Amidst of dread and doubt. 
 
 With broken mast and battered side 
 They drave amidst the tempest's heart ; 
 But why should death to these betide 
 Whom love did hold so well apart ?
 
 LOVE'S REWARD 113 
 
 The flood it drave them toward the strand, 
 The ebb it drew them fro ; 
 The swallowing seas that tore the land 
 Cast them ashore and let them go. 
 
 " Is this the land ? is this the land, 
 Where life and I must part a-twain ? " 
 " Yea, this is e'en the sea-washed strand 
 That made me yoke-fellow of pain. 
 
 " The strand is this, the sea is this, 
 The grey bent and the mountains grey ; 
 But no mound here his grave-mound is ; 
 Where have they borne my love away ? " 
 
 " What man is this with shield and spear 
 Comes riding down the bent to us ? 
 A goodly man forsooth he were 
 But for his visage piteous." 
 
 " Ghost of my love, so kind of yore, 
 Art thou not somewhat gladder grown 
 To feel my feet upon this shore ? 
 O love, thou shalt not long be lone." 
 
 " Ghost of my love, each day I come 
 To see where God first wrought us wrong : 
 Now kind thou com'st to call me home 
 Be sure I shall not tarry long." 
 
 H
 
 114 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " Come here, my love ; come here for rest, 
 So sore as my body longs for thee ! 
 My heart shall beat against thy breast, 
 As arms of thine shall comfort me." 
 
 " Love, let thy lips depart no more 
 From those same eyes they once did kiss, 
 The very bosom wounded sore 
 ^^'hen sorrow clave the heart of bliss ! " 
 
 O was it day. or was it night, 
 As there they told their love again ? 
 The high-tide of the sun's delight. 
 Or whirl of wind and drift of rain ? 
 
 " Speak sweet, my love, of how it fell, 
 And how thou cam'st across the sea, 
 And what kind heart hath served thee well. 
 And who thy borrow there might be ? " 
 
 Naught but the wind and sea made moan 
 As hastily she turned her round ; 
 P'rom light clouds wept the morn alone. 
 Not the dead corpse upon the ground. 
 
 " O look, my love, for here is he 
 Who once of all the world was kind, 
 And led my sad heart o'er the sea ! 
 And now must he be left behind."
 
 LOVE'S REWARD 115 
 
 She kissed his hps that yet did smile, 
 She kissed his eyes that were not sad : 
 " O thou who sorrow didst beguile, 
 And now wouldst have me wholly glad ! 
 
 " A little gift is this," she said, 
 " Thou once hadst deemed great gift enow ; 
 Yet surely shalt thou rest thine head 
 Where I one day shall lie alow. 
 
 " There shalt thou wake to think of me. 
 And by thy face my face shall find ; 
 And I shall then thy borrow be 
 When all the world is left behind."
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 
 
 It was up in the morn we rose betimes 
 From the hall-floor hard by the row of limes. 
 
 It was but John the Red and I, 
 
 And we were the brethren of Gregory ; 
 
 And Gregory the Wright was one 
 Of the valiant men beneath the sun, 
 
 And what he bade us that we did 
 For ne'er he kept his counsel hid. 
 
 So out we went, and the clattering latch 
 Woke up the swallows under the thatch. 
 
 It was dark in the porch, but our scythes we felt, 
 And thrust the whetstone under the belt. 
 
 Through the cold garden boughs we went 
 Where the tumbling roses shed their scent. 
 
 ii6
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 117 
 
 Then out a-gates and away we strode 
 O'er the dewy straws on the dusty road, 
 
 And there was the mead by the town-reeve's close 
 Where the hedge was sweet with the wilding rose. 
 
 Then into the mowing grass we went 
 Ere the very last of the night was spent. 
 
 Young was the moon, and he was gone. 
 So we whet our scythes by the stars alone : 
 
 But or ever the long blades felt the hay 
 Afar in the East the dawn was grey. 
 
 Or ever we struck our earliest stroke 
 The thrush in the hawthorn-bush awoke. 
 
 While yet the bloom of the swathe was dim 
 The blackbird's bill had answered him. 
 
 Ere half of the road to the river was shorn 
 The sunbeam smote the twisted thorn. 
 
 Now wide was the way 'twixt the standing grass 
 For the townsfolk unto the mote to pass,
 
 ii8 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And so when all our work was done 
 We sat to breakfast in the sun, 
 
 While down in the stream the dragon-fly 
 'Twixt the quivering rushes flickered by; 
 
 And though our knives shone sharp and w^hite 
 The swift bleak heeded not the sight. 
 
 So when the bread was done away 
 We looked along the new-shorn hay, 
 
 And heard the voice of the gathering-horn 
 Come over the garden and the corn ; 
 
 For the wind was in the blossoming wheat 
 And drave the bees in the lime-boughs sweet. 
 
 Then loud was the horn's voice drawing near, 
 And it hid the talk of the prattling weir. 
 
 And now was the horn on the pathway wide 
 That we had shorn to the river-side. 
 
 So up we stood, and wide around 
 
 We sheared a space by the Elders' Mound : 
 
 And at the feet thereof it was 
 
 That highest grew the June-tide grass ;
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER ii 
 
 And over all the mound it grew 
 With clover blent, and dark of hue. 
 
 But never aught of the Elders' Hay 
 To rick or barn was borne away. 
 
 But it was bound and burned to ash 
 In the barren close by the reedy plash. 
 
 For 'neath that mound the valiant dead 
 Lay hearkening words of valiance said 
 
 When wise men stood on the Elders' Mound, 
 And the swords were shining bright around. 
 
 And now we saw the banners borne 
 On the first of the way that we had shorn; 
 So we laid the scythe upon the sward 
 And girt us to the battle-sword. 
 
 For after the banners well we knew 
 Were the Freemen wending two and two. 
 
 There then that highway of the scythe 
 With many a hue was brave and blythe. 
 
 And first below the Silver Chief 
 Upon the green was the golden sheaf.
 
 I20 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And on the next that went by it 
 
 The White Hart in the Park did sit. , 
 
 Then on the red the White Wings flew, 
 And on the White was the Cloud-fleck blue. 
 
 Last went the Anchor of the Wrights 
 Beside the Ship of the Faring-Knights. 
 
 Then thronged the folk the June-tide field 
 With naked sword and painted shield, 
 
 Till they came adown to the river-side. 
 And there by the mound did they abide. 
 
 Now when the swords stood thick and white 
 As the mace reeds stand in the streamless bight, 
 
 There rose a man on the mound alone 
 And over his head was the grey mail done. 
 
 When over the new-shorn place of the field 
 Was nought but the steel hood and the shield. 
 
 The face on the mound shone ruddy and hale, 
 But the hoar hair showed from the hoary mail. 
 
 And there rose a hand by the ruddy face 
 And shook a sword o'er the peopled place.
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 121 
 
 And there came a voice from the mound and said : 
 " O sons, the days of my youth are dead, 
 
 And gone are the faces I have known 
 
 In the street and the booths of the goodly town. 
 
 O sons, full many a flock have I seen 
 Feed down this water-girdled green. 
 
 Full many a herd of long-horned neat 
 Have I seen 'twixt water-side and wheat. 
 
 Here by this water-side full oft 
 Have I heaved the flowery hay aloft. 
 
 And oft this water-side anigh 
 
 Have I bowed adown the wheat-stalks high. 
 
 And yet meseems I live and learn 
 And lore of younglings yet must earn. 
 
 For tell me, children, whose are these 
 Fair meadows of the June's increase ? 
 
 Whose are these flocks and whose the neat. 
 And whose the acres of the wheat ? " 
 
 Scarce did we hear his latest word, 
 On the wide shield so rang the sword.
 
 122 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 So rang the sword upon the shield 
 
 That the lark was hushed above the field. 
 
 Then sank the shouts and again we heard 
 The old voice come from the hoary beard : 
 
 " Yea, whose are yonder gables then, 
 And whose the holy hearths of men ? 
 Whose are the pratthng children there, 
 And whose the sunburnt maids and fair ? 
 
 Whose thralls are ye, hereby that stand, 
 Bearing the freeman's sword in hand ? " 
 
 As glitters the sun in the rain-washed grass. 
 So in the tossing swords it was ; 
 
 As the thunder rattles along and adown 
 E'en so was the voice of the weaponed town. 
 
 And there was the steel of the old man's sword, 
 And there was his hollow voice, and his word : 
 
 " Many men, many minds, the old saw saith, 
 Though hereof ye be sure as death. 
 
 For what spake the herald yestermorn 
 But this, that ye were thrall-folk born ;
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 123 
 
 That the lord that owneth all and some 
 Would send his men to fetch us home 
 
 Betwixt the haysel, and the tide 
 
 When they shear the corn in the country-side ? 
 
 O children, Who was the lord ? ye say, 
 What prayer to him did our fathers pray ? 
 
 Did they hold out hands his gyves to bear ? 
 Did their knees his high hall's pavement wear ? 
 
 Is his house built up in heaven aloft ? 
 Doth he make the sun rise oft and oft ? 
 
 Doth he hold the rain in his hollow hand ? 
 Hath he cleft this water through the land ? 
 
 Or doth he stay the summer-tide, 
 And make the winter days abide? 
 
 O children, Who is the lord ? ye say. 
 Have we heard his name before to-day ? 
 
 O children, if his name I know. 
 
 He hight E.irl Hugh of the Shivering Low : 
 
 For that herald bore on back and breast 
 The Black Burg under the Eagle's Nest."
 
 124 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 As the voice of the winter wind that tears 
 
 At the eaves of the thatch and its emptied ears, 
 
 E'en so was the voice of laughter and scorn 
 By the water-side in the mead new-shorn ; 
 
 And over the garden and the wheat 
 Went the voice of women shrilly-sweet. 
 
 But now by the hoary elder stood 
 A carle in raiment as red as blood. 
 
 Red was his weed and his glaive was white, 
 And there stood Gregory the Wright. 
 
 So he spake in a voice was loud and strong : 
 " Young is the day though the road is long ; 
 
 There is time if we tarry nought at all 
 
 For the kiss in the porch and the meat in the hall. 
 
 And safe shall our maidens sit at home 
 For the foe by the way we wend must come. 
 
 Through the three Lavers shall we go 
 And raise them all against the foe. 
 
 Then shall we wend the Downland ways. 
 And all the shepherd spearmen raise.
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 125 
 
 To Cheaping Raynes shall we come adown 
 And gather the bowmen of the town ; 
 
 And Greenstead next we come unto 
 Wherein are all folk good and true. 
 
 When we come our ways to the Outer Wood 
 We shall be an host both great and good; 
 
 Yea when we come to the open field 
 There shall be a many under shield. 
 
 And maybe Earl Hugh shall lie alow 
 And yet to the house of Heaven shall go. 
 
 But we shall dwell in the land we love 
 And grudge no hallow Heaven above. 
 
 Come ye, who think the time o'er long 
 Till we have slain the word of wrong ! 
 
 Come ye who deem the life of fear 
 On this last day hath drawn o'er near ! 
 
 Come after me upon the road 
 That leadeth to the Erne's abode." 
 
 Down then he leapt from off the mound 
 And back drew they that were around
 
 126 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Till he was foremost of all those 
 Betwixt the river and the close. 
 
 And uprose shouts both glad and strong 
 As followed after all the throng ; 
 
 And overhead the banners flapped, 
 
 As we went on our ways to all that happed. 
 
 The fields below the Shivering Low 
 Of many a grief of manfolk know ; 
 
 There may the autumn acres tell 
 Of how men met, and what befell. 
 
 The Black Burg under the Eagle's nest 
 Shall tell the tale as it liketh best. 
 
 And sooth it is that the River-land 
 Lacks many an autumn-gathering hand. 
 
 And there are troth-plight maids unwed 
 Shall deem awhile that love is dead ; 
 
 And babes there are to men shall grow 
 Nor ever the face of their fathers know.
 
 THE FOLK-MOTE BY THE RIVER 127 
 
 And yet in the Land by the River-side 
 Doth never a thrall or an earl's man bide : 
 
 For Hugh the Earl of might and mirth 
 Hath left the merry days of Earth ; 
 
 And we live on in the land we love, 
 And grudge no hallow Heaven above.
 
 THE VOICE OF TOIL 
 
 I HEARD men saying, Leave hope and praying, 
 All days shall be as all have been ; 
 To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow, 
 The never-ending toil between. 
 
 When Earth was younger mid toil and hunger, 
 In hope we strove, and our hands were strong; 
 Then great men led us, with words they fed us, 
 And bade us right the earthly wrong. 
 
 Go read in story their deeds and glory, 
 Their names amidst the nameless dead; 
 Turn then from lying to us slow-dying 
 In that good world to which they led; 
 
 Where fast and faster our iron master, 
 The thing we made, for ever drives, 
 Bids us grind treasure and fashion pleasure 
 For other hopes and other lives. 
 
 Where home is a hovel and dull we grovel. 
 Forgetting that the world is fair ; 
 Where no babe we cherish, lest its very soul perish 
 Where mirth is crime, and love a snare.
 
 THE VOICE OF TOIL 129 
 
 Who now shall lead us, what god shall heed us 
 As we lie in the hell our hands have won ? 
 For us are no rulers but fools and befoolers, 
 The great are fallen, the wise men gone. 
 
 I heard men saying, Leave tears and praying, 
 The sharp knife heedeth not the sheep ; 
 Are we not stronger than the rich and the wronger. 
 When day breaks over dreams and sleep ? 
 
 Come, shoulder to shoulder ere the world grows older ! 
 Help lies in nought but thee and me ; 
 Hope is before us, the long years that bore us 
 Bore leaders more than men may be. 
 
 Let dead hearts tarry and trade and marry. 
 And trembling nurse their dreams of mirth. 
 While we the living our lives are giving 
 To bring the bright new world to birth. 
 
 Come, shoulder to shoulder ere earth grows older ! 
 The Cause spreads over land and sea ; 
 Now the world shaketh, and fear awaketh 
 And joy at last for thee and me.
 
 GUNNAR'S HOWE ABOVE THE HOUSE 
 AT LITHEND 
 
 Ye who have come o'er the sea 
 
 to behold this grey minster of lands, 
 
 Whose floor is the tomb of time past, 
 
 and whose walls by the toil of dead hands 
 
 Show pictures amidst of the ruin 
 
 of deeds that have overpast death, 
 
 Stay by this tomb in a tomb 
 
 to ask of who lieth beneath. 
 
 Ah ! the world changeth too soon, 
 
 that ye stand there with unbated breath, 
 
 As I name him that Gunnar of old, 
 
 who erst in the haymaking tide 
 
 Felt all the land fragrant and fresh, 
 
 as amidst of the edges he died. 
 
 Too swiftly fame fadeth away, 
 
 if ye tremble not lest once again 
 
 The grey mound should open and show him 
 
 glad-eyed without grudging or pain. 
 
 Little labour methinks to behold him 
 
 but the tale-teller laboured in vain.
 
 GUNNAR'S HOWE 131 
 
 Little labour for ears that may hearken 
 
 to hear his death-conquering song, 
 
 Till the heart swells to think of the gladness 
 
 undying that overcame wrong. 
 
 O young is the world yet meseemeth 
 
 and the hope of it flourishing green, 
 
 When the words of a man unremembered 
 
 so bridge all the days that have been. 
 
 As we look round about on the land 
 
 that these nine hundred years he hath seen. 
 
 Dusk is abroad on the grass 
 
 of this valley amidst of the hill : 
 
 Dusk that shall never be dark 
 
 till the dawn hard on midnight shall fill 
 
 The trench under Eyiafell's snow, 
 
 and the grey plain the sea meeteth grey. 
 
 White, high aloft hangs the moon 
 
 that no dark night shall brighten ere day. 
 
 For here day and night toileth the summer 
 
 lest deedless his time pass away.
 
 THE DAY IS COMING 
 
 Come hither, lads, and hearken, 
 
 for a tale there is to tell, 
 
 Of the wonderful days a-coming, when all 
 
 shall be better than well. 
 
 And the tale shall be told of a country, 
 a land in the midst of the sea. 
 And folk shall call it England 
 in the days that are going to be. 
 
 There more than one in a thousand 
 in the days that are yet to come, 
 Shall have some hope of the morrow, 
 some joy of the ancient home. 
 
 For then, laugh not, but listen 
 to this strange tale of mine, 
 All folk that are in England 
 shall be better lodged than swine.
 
 THE DAY IS COMING 133 
 
 Then a man shall work and bethink him, 
 and rejoice in the deeds of his hand, 
 Nor yet come home in the even 
 too faint and weary to stand. 
 
 Men in that time a-coming 
 shall work and have no fear 
 For to-morrow's lack of earning 
 and the hunger-wolf anear. 
 
 I tell you this for a wonder, 
 that no man then shall be glad 
 Of his fellow's fall and mishap 
 to snatch at the work he had. 
 
 For that which the worker winncth 
 shall then be his indeed, 
 Nor shall half be reaped for nothing 
 by him that sowed no seed. 
 
 O strange new wonderful justice ! 
 but for whom shall we gather the gain ? 
 For ourselves and for each of our fellows, 
 and no hand shall labour in vain. 
 
 Then all Mine and all Thine shall be Ours, 
 and no more shall any man crave 
 For riches that serve for nothing 
 but to fetter a friend for a slave.
 
 134 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And what wealth then shall be left us 
 when none shall gather gold 
 To buy his friend in the market, 
 and pinch and pine the sold ? 
 
 Nay, what save the lovely city, 
 
 and the little house on the hill, 
 
 And the wastes and the woodland beauty 
 
 and the happy fields we till ; 
 
 And the homes of ancient stories, 
 the tombs of the mighty dead ; 
 And the wise men seeking out marvels, 
 and the poet's teeming head ; 
 
 And the painter's hand of wonder; 
 and the marvellous fiddle-bow. 
 And the banded choirs of music : 
 all those that do and know. 
 
 For all these shall be ours and all men's, 
 
 nor shall any lack a share 
 
 Of the toil and the gain of living 
 
 in the days when the world grows fair. 
 
 Ah ! such are the days that shall be ! 
 But what are the deeds of to-day 
 In the days of the years we dwell in, 
 that wear our lives away ?
 
 THE DAY IS COMINCx 135 
 
 Why, then, and for what are we waiting? 
 There are three words to speak ; 
 We will it, and what is the foeman 
 but the dream-strong wakened and weak ? 
 
 O why and for what are we waiting ? 
 while our brothers droop and die. 
 And on every wind of the heavens 
 a wasted Hfe goes by. 
 
 How long shall they reproach us 
 where crowd on crowd they dwell, 
 Poor ghosts of the wicked city, 
 the gold-crushed hungry hell ? 
 
 Through squalid life they laboured, 
 in sordid grief they died, 
 Those sons of a mighty mother, 
 those props of England's pride. 
 
 They are gone ; there is none can undo it, 
 
 nor save our souls from the curse ; 
 
 But many a million cometh, 
 
 and shall they be better or worse ? 
 
 It is we must answer and hasten, 
 and open wide the door 
 For the rich man's hurrying terror, 
 and the slow-foot hope of the poor.
 
 6 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched, 
 and their unlearned discontent, 
 We must give it voice and wisdom 
 till the waiting-tide be spent. 
 
 Come, then, since all things call us, 
 the living and the dead, 
 And o'er the weltering tangle 
 a glimmering light is shed. 
 
 Come, then, let us cast off fooling, 
 and put by ease and rest. 
 For the Cause alone is worthy 
 till the good days bring the best. 
 
 Come, join in the only battle 
 wherein no man can fail, 
 Where whoso fadeth and dieth, 
 yet his deed shall still prevail. 
 
 Ah ! come, cast off all fooling, 
 
 for this, at least, we know : 
 
 That the Dawn and the Day is coming, 
 
 and forth the Banners go.
 
 EARTH THE HEALER, EARTH THE 
 KEEPER 
 
 So swift the hours are moving 
 Unto the time un-proved : 
 Farewell my love unloving, 
 Farewell my love beloved ! 
 
 What ! are we not glad-hearted ? 
 
 Is there no deed to do ? 
 
 Is not all fear departed 
 
 And Spring-tide blossomed new ? 
 
 The sails swell out above us, 
 The sea-ridge lifts the keel ; 
 For They have called who love us, 
 Who bear the gifts that heal : 
 
 A crown for him that winneth, 
 A bed for him that fails, 
 A glory that bcginneth 
 In never-dying tales.
 
 138 poejms bv the way 
 
 Yet now the pain is ended 
 
 And the glad hand grips the sword, 
 
 Look on thy life amended 
 
 And deal out due award. 
 
 Think of the thankless morning, 
 The gifts of noon unused ; 
 Think of the eve of scorning, 
 The night of prayer refused. 
 
 And yet. The life before it. 
 Dost thou remember aught, 
 What terrors shivered o'er it 
 Born from the hell of thought ? 
 
 And this that cometh after : 
 How dost thou live, and dare 
 To meet its empty laughter, 
 To face its friendless care? 
 
 In fear didst thou desire. 
 At peace dost thou regret. 
 The wasting of the fire. 
 The tangling of the net. 
 
 Love came and gat fair greeting ; 
 Love went ; and left no shame. 
 Shall both the twilights meeting 
 The summer sunlight blame ?
 
 EARTH THE HEALER 139 
 
 What ! Cometh love and goeth 
 Like the dark night's empty wind, 
 Because thy folly soweth 
 The harvest of the blind ? 
 
 Hast thou slain love with sorrow ? 
 Have thy tears quenched the sun? 
 Nay even yet to-morrow 
 Shall many a deed be done. 
 
 This twilight sea thou sailest, 
 Has it grown dim and black 
 For that wherein thou failest, 
 And the story of thy lack ? 
 
 Peace then ! for thine old grieving 
 Was born of Earth the kind, 
 And the sad tale thou art leaving 
 Earth shall not leave behind. 
 
 Peace ! for that joy abiding 
 Whereon thou layest hold 
 Earth keepeth for a tiding 
 For the day when this is old. 
 
 Thy soul and life shall perish, 
 And thy name as last night's wind ; 
 But Earth the deed shall cherish 
 That thou to-day shalt find.
 
 I40 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And all thy joy and sorrow 
 So great but yesterday, 
 So light a thing to-morrow, 
 Shall never pass away. 
 
 Lo ! lo ! the dawn-blink yonder, 
 The sunrise draweth nigh, 
 And men forget to wonder 
 That they were born to die. 
 
 Then praise the deed that wendeth 
 Through the daylight and the mirth ! 
 The tale that never endeth 
 Whoso may dwell on earth.
 
 ALL FOR THE CAUSE 
 
 Hear a word, a word in season, 
 for the day is drawing nigh. 
 When the Cause shall call upon us, 
 some to live, and some to die ! 
 
 He that dies shall not die lonely, 
 many an one hath gone before ; 
 He that Uves shall bear no burden 
 heavier than the life they bore. 
 
 Nothing ancient is their story, 
 e'en but yesterday they bled, 
 Youngest they of earth's beloved, 
 last of all the valiant dead. 
 
 E'en the tidings we are telling 
 
 was the tale they had to tell, 
 
 E'en the hope that our hearts cherish, 
 
 was the hope for which they fell. 
 
 In the grave where tyrants thrust them, 
 lies their labour and their pain. 
 But undying from their sorrow 
 springeth up the hope again.
 
 142 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Mourn not therefore, nor lament it, 
 that the world outlives their life ; 
 Voice and vision yet they give us, 
 making strong our hands for strife. 
 
 Some had name, and fame, and honour, 
 learn'd they were, and wise and strong ; 
 Some were nameless, poor, unlettered, 
 weak in all but grief and wrong. 
 
 Named and nameless all live in us ; 
 one and all they lead us yet 
 Every pain to count for nothing, 
 every sorrow to forget. 
 
 Hearken how they cry, " O happy, 
 happy ye that ye were born 
 In the sad slow night's departing, 
 in the rising of the morn. 
 
 " Fair the crown the Cause hath for you, 
 well to die or well to live 
 Through the battle, through the tangle, 
 peace to gain or peace to give." 
 
 Ah, it may be ! Oft meseemeth, 
 in the days that yet shall be. 
 When no slave of gold abideth 
 'twixt the breadth of sea to sea,
 
 ALL FOR THE CAUSE 143 
 
 Oft, when men and maids are merry, 
 ere the sunlight leaves the earth, 
 And they bless the day beloved, 
 all too short for all their mirth. 
 
 Some shall pause awhile and ponder 
 on the bitter days of old. 
 Ere the toil of strife and battle 
 overthrew the curse of gold ; 
 
 Then 'twixt lips of loved and lover 
 solemn thoughts of us shall rise; 
 We who once were fools defeated, 
 then shall be the brave and wise. 
 
 There amidst the world new-builded 
 shall our earthly deeds abide, 
 Though our names be all forgotten, 
 and the tale of how we died. 
 
 Life or death then, who shall heed it, 
 what we gain or what we lose ? 
 Fair flies life amid the struggle, 
 and the Cause for each shall choose. 
 
 Hear a word, a word in season, 
 for the day is drawing nigh. 
 When the Cause shall call upon us, 
 some to live, and some to die !
 
 PAIN AND TIME STRIVE NOT 
 
 \V^HAT part of the dread eternity 
 Are those strange minutes that I gain, 
 Mazed with the doubt of love and pain, 
 When I thy dehcate face may see, 
 A little while before farewell ? 
 
 What share of the world's yearning-tide 
 That flash, when new day bare and white 
 Blots out my half-dream's faint delight. 
 And there is nothing by my side, 
 And well remembered is farewell ? 
 
 What drop in the grey flood of tears 
 
 That time, when the long day toiled through. 
 
 Worn out, shows nought for me to do, 
 
 And nothing worth my labour bears 
 
 The longing of that last farewell ?
 
 PAIN AND TIME STRIVE NOT 145 
 
 What pity from the heavens above, 
 What heed from out eternity, 
 What word from the swift world for me ? 
 Speak, heed, and pity, O tender love. 
 Who knew'st the days before farewell !
 
 DRAWING NEAR THE LIGHT 
 
 Lo, when we wade the tangled wood, 
 In haste and hurry to be there, 
 Nought seem its leaves and blossoms good, 
 For all that they be fashioned fair. 
 
 But looking up, at last we see 
 The glimmer of the open light, 
 From o'er the place where we would be : 
 Then grow the very brambles bright. 
 
 So now, amidst our day of strife. 
 With many a matter glad we play, 
 When once we see the light of life 
 Gleam through the tangle of to-day.
 
 VERSES FOR PICTURES 
 
 DAY 
 
 I AM Day ; I bring again 
 Life and glory, Love and pain : 
 Awake, arise ! from death to death 
 Through me the World's tale quickeneth. 
 
 SPRING 
 
 Spring am I, too soft of heart 
 Much to speak ere I depart : 
 Ask the Summer-tide to prove 
 The abundance of my love. 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 Summer looked for long am I ; 
 Much shall change or e'er I die. 
 Prithee take it not amiss 
 Though I weary ihee with bliss.
 
 I4S POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 Laden Autumn here I stand 
 Worn of heart, and weak of hand : 
 Nought but rest seems good to me, 
 Speak the word that sets me free. 
 
 WINTER 
 
 I am Winter, that do keep 
 Longing safe amidst of sleep : 
 Who shall say if I were dead 
 What should be remembered ? 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 I am Night : I bring again 
 Hope of pleasure, rest from pain : 
 Thoughts unsaid 'twixt Life and Death 
 My fruitful silence quickeneth.
 
 FOR THE BRIAR ROSE 
 
 THE BRIARWOOD 
 
 The fateful slumber floats and flows 
 About the tangle of the rose ; 
 But lo ! the fated hand and heart 
 To rend the slumberous curse apart ! 
 
 THE COUNCIL ROOM 
 
 The threat of war, the hope of peace, 
 The Kingdom's peril and increase 
 Sleep on, and bide the latter day, 
 When Fate shall take her chain away. 
 
 THE GARDEN COURT 
 
 The maiden pleasance of the land 
 Knoweth no stir of voice or hand, 
 No cup the sleeping waters fill, 
 The restless shuttle lieth still.
 
 I50 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 THE ROSEBOWER 
 
 Here lies the hoarded iove, the key 
 To all the treasure that shall be : 
 Come fated hand the gift to take, 
 And smite this sleeping world awake.
 
 ANOTHER FOR THE BRIAR ROSE 
 
 O TREACHEROUS scetit, O thorny sight, 
 O tangle of world's wrong and right, 
 What art thou 'gainst my armour's gleam 
 But dusky cobwebs of a dream ? 
 
 Beat down, deep sunk from every gleam 
 Of hope, they lie and dully dream ; 
 Men once, but men no more, that Love 
 Their waste defeated hearts should move. 
 
 Here sleeps the world that would not love ! 
 Let it sleep on, but if He move 
 Their hearts in humble wise to wait 
 On his new-wakened fair estate. 
 
 O won at last is never late ! 
 Thy silence was the voice of fate ; 
 Thy still hands conquered in the strife; 
 Thine eyes were light ; thy lips were Ufe.
 
 THE WOODPECKER 
 
 I ONCE a King and chief 
 Now am the tree-bark's thief, 
 Ever 'twixt trunk and leaf 
 Chasing the prey. 
 
 THE LION 
 
 The Beasts that be 
 In wood and waste, 
 Now sit and see, 
 Nor ride nor haste.
 
 THE FOREST 
 
 PEAR-TREE 
 
 By woodman's edge I faint and fail ; 
 By craftsman's edge I tell the tale. 
 
 CHESTNUT-TREE 
 
 High in the wood, high o'er the hall, 
 Aloft I rise when low I fall. 
 
 OAK-TREE 
 
 Unmoved I stand what wind may blow, 
 Swift, swift before the wind I go. 
 
 153
 
 POMONA 
 
 I AM the ancient Apple-Queen, 
 As once I was so am I now. 
 For evermore a hope unseen, 
 Betwixt the blossom and the bough. 
 
 Ah, Where's the river's hidden Gold ! 
 And where the windy grave of Troy ? 
 Yet come I as I came of old. 
 From out the heart of Summer's joy. 
 
 154
 
 FLORA 
 
 I AM the handmaid of the earth, 
 I broider fair her glorious gown, 
 And deck her on her days of mirth 
 With many a garland of renown. 
 
 And while Earth's little ones are fain 
 And play about the Mother's hem, 
 I scatter every gift I gain 
 From sun and wind to gladden them. 
 
 155
 
 THE ORCHARD 
 
 Midst bitten mead and acre shorn, 
 The world without is waste and worn, 
 
 But here within our orchard-close, 
 The guerdon of its labour shows. 
 
 O valiant Earth, O happy year 
 
 That mocks the threat of winter near, 
 
 And hangs aloft from tree to tree 
 The banners of the Spring to be. 
 
 IS6
 
 TAPESTRY TREES 
 
 OAK 
 
 I AM the Roof-tree and the Keel ; 
 I bridge the seas for woe and weal. 
 
 FIR 
 
 High o'er the lordly oak I stand, 
 And drive him on from land to land. 
 
 ASH 
 
 I heft my brother's iron bane; 
 
 I shaft the spear, and build the wain. 
 
 YEW 
 
 Dark down the windy dale I grow, 
 The father of the fateful Bow. 
 
 POPLAR 
 
 The war-shaft and the milking-bowl 
 I make, and keep the hay-wain whole. 
 
 OLIVE 
 
 The King I bless; the lamps I trim; 
 In my warm wave do fishes swim. 
 
 157
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 APPLE-TREE 
 
 I bowed my head to Adam's will ; 
 The cups of toiling men I fill. 
 
 VINE 
 
 I draw the blood from out the earth; 
 I store the sun for winter mirth. 
 
 ORANGE-TREE 
 
 Amidst the greenness of my night, 
 
 My odorous lamps hang round and bright. 
 
 FIG-TREE 
 
 I who am little among trees 
 In honey-making mate the bees. 
 
 MULBERRY-TREE 
 
 Love's lack hath dyed my berries red : 
 For Love's attire my leaves are shed. 
 
 PEAR-TREE 
 
 High o'er the mead-flowers' hidden feet 
 I bear aloft my burden sweet. 
 
 BAY 
 
 Look on my leafy boughs, the Crown 
 Of living song and dead renown !
 
 THE FLOWERING ORCHARD 
 
 SILK EMBROIDERY 
 
 Lo silken my garden, 
 
 and silken my sky, 
 
 And silken my apple-boughs 
 
 hanging on high; 
 
 All wrought by the Worm 
 
 in the peasant carle's cot 
 
 On the Mulberry leafage 
 
 when summer was hot !
 
 THE END OF MAY 
 
 How the wind howls this morn 
 About the end of May, 
 And drives June on apace 
 To mock the world forlorn 
 And the world's joy passed away 
 And my unlonged-for face ! 
 The world's joy passed away ; 
 For no more may I deem 
 That any folk are glad 
 To see the dawn of day 
 Sunder the tangled dream 
 Wherein no grief they had. 
 Ah, through the tangled dream 
 Where others have no grief 
 Ever it fares with me 
 That fears and treasons stream 
 And dumb sleep slays belief 
 Whatso therein may be. 
 Sleep slayeth all belief
 
 THE END OF MAY i6i 
 
 Until the hopeless light 
 Wakes at the birth of June 
 More lying tales to weave, 
 More love in woe's despite, 
 More hope to perish soon.
 
 THE HALF OF LIFE GONE 
 
 The days have slain the days, 
 
 and the seasons have gone by 
 
 And brought me the summer again ; 
 
 and here on the grass I He 
 
 As erst I lay and was glad 
 
 ere I meddled with right and with wrong. 
 
 Wide lies the mead as of old, 
 
 and the river is creeping along 
 
 By the side of the elm-clad bank 
 
 that turns its weedy stream ; 
 
 And grey o'er its hither lip 
 
 the quivering rushes gleam. 
 
 There is work in the mead as of old ; 
 
 they are eager at winning the hay, 
 
 While every sun sets bright 
 
 and begets a fairer day. 
 
 The forks shine white in the sun 
 
 round the yellow red-wheeled wain, 
 
 Where the mountain of hay grows fast; 
 
 and now from out of the lane 
 
 Comes the ox-team drawing another, 
 
 comes the bailiff and the beer,
 
 THE HALF OF LIFE GONE 163 
 
 And thump, thump, goes the farmer's nag 
 
 o'er the narrow bridge of the weir. 
 
 High up and Hght are the clouds, 
 
 and though the swallows flit 
 
 So high o'er the sunlit earth, 
 
 they are well a part of it, 
 
 And so, though high over them, 
 
 are the wings of the wandering heme ; 
 
 In measureless depths above him 
 
 doth the fair sky quiver and burn ; 
 
 The dear sun floods the land 
 
 as the morning falls toward noon. 
 
 And a little wind is awake 
 
 in the best of the latter June. 
 
 They are busy winning the hay, 
 
 and the life and the picture they make 
 
 If I were as once I was, 
 
 I should deem it made for my sake ; 
 
 For here if one need not work 
 
 is a place for happy rest. 
 
 While one's thought wends over the world 
 
 north, south, and east and west. 
 
 There are the men and the maids, 
 and the wives and the gaffers grey 
 Of the fields I know so well, 
 and but little changed are they
 
 i64 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Since I was a lad amongst them ; 
 
 and yet how great is the change ! 
 
 Strange are they grown unto me : 
 
 yea I to myself am strange. 
 
 Their talk and their laughter mingling 
 
 with the music of the meads 
 
 Has now no meaning to me 
 
 to help or to hinder my needs, 
 
 So far from them have I drifted. 
 
 And yet amidst of them goes 
 
 A part of myself, my boy, 
 
 and of pleasure and pain he knows, 
 
 And deems it something strange, 
 
 when he is other than glad. 
 
 Lo now ! the woman that stoops 
 
 and kisses the face of the lad. 
 
 And puts a rake in his hand 
 
 and laughs in his laughing face. 
 
 Whose is the voice that laughs 
 
 in the old familiar place ? 
 
 Whose should it be but my love's, 
 
 if my love were yet on the earth ? 
 
 Could she refrain from the fields 
 
 where my joy and her joy had birth. 
 
 When I was there and her child, 
 
 on the grass that knew her feet 
 
 'Mid the flowers that led her on 
 
 when the summer eve was sweet ?
 
 THE HALF OF LIFE GONE 165 
 
 No, no, it is she no longer; 
 
 never again can she come 
 
 And behold the hay-wains creeping 
 
 o'er the meadows of her home ; 
 
 No more can she kiss her son 
 
 or put the rake in his hand 
 
 That she handled a while agone 
 
 in the midst of the haymaking band. 
 
 Her laughter is gone and her life ; 
 
 there is no such thing on the earth, 
 
 No share for me then in the stir, 
 
 no share in the hurry and mirth. 
 
 Nay, let me look and believe 
 
 that all these will vanish away. 
 
 At least when the night has fallen, 
 
 and that she will be there 'mid the hay, 
 
 Happy and weary with work, 
 
 waiting and longing for love. 
 
 There will she be, as of old, 
 
 when the great moon hung above. 
 
 And lightless and dead was the village, 
 
 and nought but the weir was awake ; 
 
 There will she rise to meet me, 
 
 and my hands will she hasten to take, 
 
 And thence shall we wander away, 
 
 and over the ancient bridge 
 
 By many a rose-hung hedgerow, 
 
 till we reach the sun-burnt ridge
 
 1 66 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And the great trench digged by the Romans 
 
 there then awhile shall we stand, 
 
 To watch the dawn come creeping 
 
 o'er the fragrant lovely land, 
 
 Till all the world awaketh, 
 
 and draws us down, we twain, 
 
 To the deeds of the field and the fold 
 
 and the merry summer's gain. 
 
 Ah thus, only thus shall I see her, 
 in dreams of the day or the night. 
 When my soul is beguiled of its sorrow 
 to remember past delight. 
 She is gone. She was and she is not ; 
 there is no such thing on the earth 
 But e'en as a picture painted ; 
 and for me there is void and dearth 
 That I cannot name or measure. 
 Yet for me and all these she died, 
 E'en as she lived for awhile, 
 that the better day might betide. 
 Therefore I live, and I shall live 
 till the last day's work shall fail. 
 Have patience now but a little 
 and I will tell you the tale 
 Of how and why she died, 
 and why I am weak and worn.
 
 ^ 
 
 THE HALF OF LIFE GONE 167 
 
 And have wandered away to the meadows 
 
 and the place where I was born ; 
 
 But here and to-day I cannot ; 
 
 for ever my thought will stray 
 
 To that hope fulfilled for a little 
 
 and the bliss of the earlier day. 
 
 Of the great world's hope and anguish 
 
 to-day I scarce can think ; 
 
 Like a ghost, from the lives of the living 
 
 and their earthly deeds I shrink. 
 
 I will go adown by the water 
 
 and over the ancient bridge, 
 
 And wend in our footsteps of old 
 
 till I come to the sun-burnt ridge, 
 
 And the great trench digged by the Romans ; 
 
 and thence awhile will I gaze, 
 
 And see three teeming counties 
 
 stretch out till they fade in the haze ; 
 
 And in all the dwellings of man 
 
 that thence mine eyes shall see. 
 
 What man as hapless as I am 
 
 beneath the sun shall be? 
 
 O fool, what words are these ? 
 Thou hast a sorrow to nurse, 
 And thou hast been bold and happy ; 
 but these, if they utter a curse,
 
 1 68 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 No sting it has and no meaning, 
 
 it is empty sound on the air. 
 
 Thy Hfe is full of mourning, 
 
 and theirs so empty and bare, 
 
 That they have no words of complaining 
 
 nor so happy have they been 
 
 That they may measure sorrow 
 
 or tell what grief may mean. 
 
 And thou, thou hast deeds to do, 
 
 and toil to meet thee soon ; 
 
 Depart and ponder on these 
 
 throui^h the sun-worn afternoon.
 
 MINE AND THINE 
 
 FROM A FLEMISH POEM OF THE FOURTEENTH 
 CENTURY 
 
 Two words about the world we see, 
 
 And nought but Mine and Thine they be. 
 
 Ah ! might we drive them forth and wide 
 
 With us should rest and peace abide ; 
 
 All free, nought owned of goods and gear. 
 
 By men and women though it were. 
 
 Common to all all wheat and wine 
 
 Over the seas and up the Rhine. 
 
 No manslayer then the wide world o'er 
 
 When Mine and Thine are known no more. 
 
 Yea, God, well counselled for our health, 
 
 Gave all this fleeting earthly wealth 
 
 A common heritage to all. 
 
 That men might feed them therewithal, 
 
 And clothe their limbs and shoe their feet 
 
 And live a simple life and sweet. 
 
 But now so rageth greediness 
 
 That each desireth nothing less 
 
 Than all the world, and all his own; 
 
 And all for him and him alone. 
 169
 
 THE LAY OF CHRISTINE 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC 
 
 Of silk my gear was shapen, 
 
 Scarlet they did on me, 
 
 Then to the sea-strand was I borne 
 
 And laid in a bark of the sea. 
 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 Befell it there I might not drown, 
 For God to me was good; 
 The billows bare me up a-land 
 Where grew the fair green- wood. 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 There came a Knight a-riding 
 
 With three swains along the way, 
 
 And he took me up, the little-one, 
 
 On the sea-sand as I lay. 
 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 170
 
 THE LAY OF CHRISTINE 17 
 
 He took me up, and bare me home 
 To the house that was his own. 
 And there bode I so long with him 
 That I was his love alone. 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 But the very first night we lay abed 
 
 Befell his sorrow and harm, 
 
 That thither came the King's ill men, 
 
 And slew him on mine arm. 
 
 O well were I from the IVorld away. 
 
 There slew they Adalbright the King, 
 
 Two of his swains slew they, 
 
 But the third sailed swiftly from the land 
 
 Sithence I saw him never a day. 
 
 O ivell were I from the World away. 
 
 O wavering hope of this world's bliss. 
 
 How shall men trow in thee ? 
 
 My Grove of Gems is gone away 
 
 For mine eyes no more to see ! 
 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 Each hour the while my life shall last 
 
 Remembereth him alone, 
 
 Such heavy sorrow have I got 
 
 From our meeting long agone. 
 
 O well were I from the World away.
 
 72 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 O, early in the morning-tide 
 
 Men cry : " Christine the fair, 
 
 Art thou well content with that true love 
 
 Thou sittest loving there ? " 
 
 O ivell were I from the World away. 
 
 *' Ah, yea, so well I love him. 
 And so dear my love shall be, 
 That the very God of Heaven aloft 
 Worshippeth him and me. 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 " Ah, all the red gold I have got 
 Well would I give to-day, 
 Only for this and nothing else 
 From the world to win away." 
 O well were I from the World away. 
 
 " Nay, midst all folk upon the earth 
 
 Keep thou thy ruddy gold, 
 
 And love withal the mighty lord 
 
 That wedded thee of old." 
 
 O well were I from the World away.
 
 HILDEBRAND AND HELLELIL 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH 
 
 Hellelil sitteth in bower there, 
 None knows my grief but God alone ^ 
 And seweth at the seam so fair, 
 / never wail my sorrow to any other one. 
 
 But there whereas the gold should be 
 With silk upon the cloth sewed she. 
 
 Where she should sew with silken thread 
 The gold upon the cloth she laid. 
 
 So to the Queen the word came in 
 That Hellelil wild work doth win. 
 
 Then did the Queen do furs on her 
 And went to Hellelil the fair. 
 
 " O swiftly sewest thou, Hellelil, 
 
 Yet nought but mad is thy sewing still ! "
 
 174 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " Well may my sewing be but mad 
 Such evil hap as I have had. 
 
 My father was good king and lord, 
 Knights fifteen served before his board. 
 
 He taught me sewing royally, 
 
 Twelve knights had watch and ward of me. 
 
 Well served eleven day by day, 
 To folly the twelfth did me bewray. 
 
 And this same was hight Hildebrand, 
 The King's son of the English Land. 
 
 But in bower were we no sooner laid 
 
 Than the truth thereof to my father was said. 
 
 Then loud he cried o'er garth and hall : 
 
 * Stand up, my men, and arm ye all ! 
 
 • Yea draw on mail and dally not. 
 Hard neck lord Hildebrand hath got ! ' 
 
 They stood by the door with glaive and spear ; 
 ' Hildebrand rise and hasten here ! ' 
 
 Lord Hildebrand stroked my white white cheek 
 ' O love, forbear my name to speak.
 
 HILDEBRAND AND HELLE,LIL 175 
 
 ' Yea even if my blood thou see, 
 Name me not, lest my death thou be.' 
 
 Out from the door lord Hildebrand leapt, 
 And round about his good sword swept. 
 
 The first of all that he slew there 
 
 Were my seven brethren with golden hair. 
 
 Then before him stood the youngest one, 
 And dear he was in the days agone. 
 
 Then I cried out : ' O Hildebrand, 
 
 In the name of God now stay thine hand. 
 
 ' O let my youngest brother live 
 Tidings hereof to my mother to give ! ' 
 
 No sooner was the word gone forth 
 
 Than with eight wounds fell my love to earth. 
 
 My brother took me by the golden hair, 
 And bound me to the saddle there. 
 
 There met me then no Httlest root. 
 But it tore off somewhat of my foot. 
 
 No littlest brake the wild-wood bore, 
 But somewhat from my legs it tore.
 
 176 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 No deepest dam we came unto 
 
 But my brother's horse he swam it through. 
 
 But when to the castle gate we came, 
 
 There stood my mother in sorrow and shame. 
 
 My brother let raise a tower high, 
 Bestrewn with sharp thorns inwardly. 
 
 He took me in my silk shirt bare 
 And cast me into that tower there. 
 
 And wheresoe'er my legs I laid 
 Torment of the thorns I had. 
 
 Wheresoe'er on feet I stood 
 
 The prickles sharp drew forth my blood. 
 
 My youngest brother me would slay, 
 But my mother would have me sold away. 
 
 A great new bell my price did buy 
 In Mary's Church to hang on high. 
 
 But the first stroke that ever it strake 
 My mother's heart asunder brake." 
 
 So soon as her sorrow and woe was said, 
 None knows my grief but God alone, 
 In the arm of the Queen she sat there dead, 
 / never tell my sorrow to any other one.
 
 THE SON'S SORROW 
 
 FROM THE ICELANDIC 
 
 The King has asked of his son so good, 
 " Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood ? 
 O fair it is to ride abroad. 
 Thou playest not, and thou laughest not ; 
 All thy good game is clean forgot." 
 
 " Sit thou beside me, father dear. 
 
 And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear. 
 
 Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land, 
 And gavest me into a good Earl's hand. 
 
 Now had this good Earl daughters seven, 
 The fairest of maidens under heaven. 
 
 One brought me my meat when I should dine. 
 One cut and sewed my raiment fine. 
 
 One washed and combed my yellow hair, 
 
 And one I fell to loving there. 
 
 177 M
 
 178 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Befell it on so fair a day, 
 
 We minded us to sport and play. 
 
 Down in a dale my horse bound I, 
 Bound on my saddle speedily. 
 
 Bright red she was as the flickering flame 
 When to my saddle-bow she came. 
 
 Beside my saddle-bow she stood, 
 
 ' To flee with thee to my heart were good. 
 
 Kind was my horse and good to aid, 
 My love upon his back I laid. 
 
 We gat us from the garth away, 
 And none was ware of us that day. 
 
 But as we rode along the sand 
 Behold a barge lay by the land. 
 
 So in that boat did we depart, 
 And rowed away right glad at heart. 
 
 When we came to the dark wood and the shade 
 To raise the tent my true-love bade. 
 
 Three sons my true-love bore me there, 
 And syne she died who was so dear.
 
 THE SON'S SORROW 179 
 
 A grave I wrought her with my sword, 
 With my fair shield the mould I poured. 
 
 First in the mould I laid my love, 
 Then all my sons her breast above. 
 
 And I without must lie alone ; 
 So from the place I gat me gone." 
 
 No man now shall stand on his feet 
 To love that love, to woo that sweet : 
 O fair it is to ride abroad.
 
 AGNES AND THE HILL-MAN 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH 
 
 Agnes went through the meadows a-weeping, 
 
 Fowl are a-singing. 
 
 There stood the hill-man heed thereof keeping. 
 
 Agnes, fair Agnes I 
 
 " Come to the hill, fair Agnes, with me. 
 
 The reddest of gold will I give unto thee ! " 
 
 Twice went Agnes the hill round about. 
 
 Then wended within, left the fair world without. 
 
 In the hillside bode Agnes, three years thrice told o'er, 
 For the green earth sithence fell she longing full sore. 
 
 There she sat, and lullaby sang in her singing, 
 
 xA.nd she heard how the bells of England were ringing. 
 
 Agnes before her true-love did stand : 
 
 " May I wend to the church of the English Land ? " 
 
 " To England's Church well mayst thou be gone. 
 So that no hand thou lay the red gold upon. 
 
 " So that when thou art come the churchyard anear. 
 
 Thou cast not abroad thy golden hair. 
 
 1 80
 
 AGNES AND THE HILL-MAN i8i 
 
 '* So that when thou standest the church within, 
 To thy mother on bench thou never win. 
 
 '' So that when thou hearest the high God's name, 
 No knee unto earth thou bow to the same." 
 
 Hand she laid on all gold that was there, 
 And cast abroad her golden hair. 
 
 And when the church she stood within, 
 
 To her mother on bench straight did she win. 
 
 And when she heard the high God's name. 
 Knee unto earth she bowed to the same. 
 
 When all the mass was sung to its end. 
 Home with her mother dear did she wend. 
 
 " Come, Agnes, into the hillside to me. 
 
 For thy seven small sons greet sorely for thee ! " 
 
 " Let them greet, let them greet, as they have will to do ; 
 For never again will I hearken thereto ! " 
 
 Weird laid he on her, sore sickness he wrought, 
 Fowl are a- singing. 
 
 That self- same hour to death was she brought. 
 Agnes, fair Agnes !
 
 KNIGHT AAGEN AND MAIDEN ELSE 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH 
 
 It was the fair knight Aagen 
 To an isle he went his way, 
 And pHghted troth to Else, 
 Who was so fair a may. 
 
 He plighted troth to Else 
 
 All with the ruddy gold, 
 
 But or ere that day's moon came again 
 
 Low he lay in the black, black mould. 
 
 It was the maiden Else, 
 
 She was fulfilled of woe 
 
 When she heard how the fair knight Aagen 
 
 In the black mould lay alow. 
 
 Uprose the fair knight Aagen, 
 
 Coffin on back took he, 
 
 And he's away to her bower, 
 
 Sore hard as the work might be. 
 182
 
 KNIGHT AAGEN AND MAIDEN ELSE i 
 
 With that same chest on door he smote, 
 For the lack of flesh and skin ; 
 " O hearken, maiden Else, 
 And let thy true-love in ! " 
 
 Then answered maiden Else, 
 
 " Never open I my door, 
 
 But and if thou namest Jesu's name 
 
 As thou hadst might before." 
 
 " O hearken, maiden Else, 
 And open thou thy door, 
 For Jesu's name I well may name 
 As I had might before ! " 
 
 Then uprose maiden Else, 
 O'er her cheek the salt tears ran. 
 Nor spared she into her very bower 
 To welcome that dead man. 
 
 O, she's taken up her comb of gold 
 And combed adown her hair. 
 And for every hair she combed adown 
 There fell a weary tear. 
 
 " Hearken thou, knight Aagen, 
 Hearken, true-love, and tell, 
 If down -adown in the black, black earth 
 Thou farest ever well ? "
 
 1 84 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " O whenso thou art joyous, 
 And the heart is glad in thee, 
 Then fares it with my coffin 
 That red roses are with me. 
 
 " But whenso thou art sorrowful 
 And weary is thy mood, 
 Then all within my coffin 
 Is it dreadful with dark blood. 
 
 " Now is the red cock a-crowing. 
 To the earth adown must I ; 
 Down to the earth wend all dead folk, 
 And I wend in company. 
 
 " Now is the black cock a-crowing. 
 
 To the earth must I adown. 
 
 For the gates of Heaven are opening now. 
 
 Thereto must I begone." 
 
 Uprose the fair knight Aagen, 
 Coffin on back took he, 
 And he's away to the churchyard now, 
 Sore hard as the work might be. 
 
 But so wrought maiden Else, 
 Because of her weary mood, 
 That she followed after own true love 
 All through the mirk wild wood.
 
 KNIGHT AAGEN AND MAIDEN ELSE 185 
 
 But when the wood was well passed through, 
 And in the churchyard they were, 
 Then was the fair knight Aagen 
 Waxen wan of his golden hair. 
 
 And when therefrom they wended 
 And were the church within, 
 Then was the fair knight Aagen 
 Waxen wan of cheek and chin. 
 
 " Hearken thou, maiden Else, 
 Hearken, true-love, to me, 
 Weep no more for thine own troth-plight. 
 However it shall be ! 
 
 " Look thou up to the heavens aloft, 
 To the little stars and bright, 
 And thou shalt see how sweetly 
 It fareth with the night ! " 
 
 She looked up to the heavens aloft, 
 To the little stars bright above. 
 The dead man sank into his grave, 
 Ne'er again she saw her love. 
 
 Home then went maiden Else, 
 Mid sorrow manifold, 
 And ere that night's moon came again 
 She lay alow in the mould.
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH 
 
 King Hafbur and King Siward 
 They needs must stir up strife, 
 All about the sweetling Signy 
 Who was so fair a wife. 
 O wilt thou win me thcn^ 
 or as fair a maid as I be ? 
 
 It was the King's son Hafbur 
 Woke up amid the night, 
 And 'gan to tell of a wondrous dream 
 In swift words nowise light. 
 
 " jMe-dreamed I was in heaven 
 Amid that fair abode, 
 And my true-love lay upon mine arm 
 And we fell from cloud to cloud." 
 
 As there they sat, the dames and maids 
 Of his words they took no keep. 
 Only his mother well-beloved 
 
 Heeded his dreamful sleep.
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 187 
 
 " Go get thee gone to the mountain, 
 And make no long delay ; 
 To the elve's eldest daughter 
 For thy dream's areding pray." 
 
 So the King's son, even Hafbur, 
 Took his sword in his left hand, 
 And he's away to the mountain 
 To get speech of that Lily-wand. 
 
 He beat thereon with hand all bare, 
 With fingers small and fine, 
 And there she lay, the elve's daughter. 
 And well wotted of that sign. 
 
 " Bide hail, Elve's sweetest daughter. 
 As on skins thou liest fair, 
 I pray thee by the God of Heaven 
 My dream arede thou clear. 
 
 " Me-dreamed I was in heaven, 
 Yea amid that fair abode, 
 And my true-love lay upon mine arm 
 And we fell from cloud to cloud." 
 
 "Whereas thou dreamed'st thou wert in heaven. 
 So shalt thou win that may ; 
 Dreamed'st thou of falling through the clouds. 
 So falls for her thy life away."
 
 SS POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " And if it lieth in my luck 
 
 To win to me that may, 
 
 In no sorrow's stead it standeth me 
 
 For her to cast my life away." 
 
 Lord Hafbur lets his hair wax long, 
 And will have the gear of mays. 
 And he rideth to King Siward's house 
 And will well learn weaving ways. 
 
 Lord Hafbur all his clothes let shape 
 In such wise as maidens do, 
 And thus he rideth over the land 
 King Siward's daughter to woo. 
 
 Now out amid the castle-garth 
 He cast his cloak aside, 
 And goeth forth to the high-bower 
 Where the dames and damsels abide. 
 
 Hail, sit ye there, dames and damsels, 
 Maids and queens kind and fair, 
 And chiefest of all to the Dane-King's daughter 
 If she abideth here ! 
 
 " Hail, sittest thou, sweet King's daughter, 
 
 A-spinning the silken twine. 
 
 It is King Hafbur sends me hither 
 
 To learn the sewing fine."
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 Hath Haf bur sent thee here to me ? 
 Then art thou a welcome guest, 
 And all the sewing that I can 
 Shall I learn thee at my best. 
 
 " And all the sewing that I can 
 
 I shall learn thee lovingly, 
 
 Out of one bowl shalt thou eat with me, 
 
 And by my nurse shalt thou lie." 
 
 " King's children have I eaten with, 
 And lain down by their side : 
 Must I lie abed now with a very nurse ? 
 Then woe is me this tide ! " 
 
 " Nay, let it pass, fair maiden ! 
 
 Of me gettest thou no harm, 
 
 Out of one bowl shalt thou eat with me 
 
 And sleep soft upon mine arm." 
 
 There sat they, all the damsels, 
 And sewed full craftily ; 
 But ever the King's son Hafbur 
 With nail in mouth sat he. 
 
 I'hey sewed the hart, they sewed the hind, 
 As they run through the wild-wood green, 
 Never gat Hafbur so big a bowl 
 But the bottom soon was seen.
 
 90 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 In there came the evil nurse 
 In the worst tide that might be : 
 " Never saw I fair maiden 
 Who could sew less craftily. 
 
 " Never saw I fair maiden 
 Seam worse the linen fine, 
 Never saw I noble maiden 
 Who better drank the wine." 
 
 This withal spake the evil nurse, 
 The nighest that she durst : 
 " Never saw I yet fair maiden 
 Of drink so sore athirst. 
 
 " So little a seam as ever she sews 
 Goes the needle into her mouth, 
 As big a bowl as ever she gets 
 Out is it drunk forsooth. 
 
 " Ne'er saw I yet in maiden's head 
 Two eyes so bright and bold, 
 And those two hands of her withal 
 Are hard as the iron cold." 
 
 " Hearken, sweet nurse, whereso thou art. 
 Why wilt thou mock me still ? 
 Never cast I one word at thee, 
 Went thy sewing well or ill.
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 " Still wilt thou mock, still wilt thou spy ; 
 Nought such thou hast of me, 
 Whether mine eyes look out or look in 
 Nought do they deal with thee." 
 
 O it was Hafbur the King's son 
 
 Began to sew at last ; 
 
 He sewed the hart, and he sewed the hind, 
 
 As they flee from the hound so fast. 
 
 He sewed the lily, and he sewed the rose. 
 And the little fowls of the air ; 
 Then fell the damsels a-marvelling, 
 For nought had they missed him there. 
 
 Day long they sewed till the evening. 
 And till the long night was deep. 
 Then up stood dames and maidens 
 And were fain in their beds to sleep. 
 
 So fell on them the evening-tide. 
 O'er the meads the dew drave down, 
 And fain was Signy, that sweet thing, 
 With her folk to bed to be gone. 
 
 Therewith asked the King's son Hafbur, 
 " And whatten a bed for me ? " 
 " O thou shalt sleep in the bower aloft, 
 And blue shall thy bolster be."
 
 92 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 She went before, sweet Signy, 
 O'er the high-bower's bridge aright, 
 And after her went Hafbur 
 Laughing from heart grown Hght. 
 
 Then kindled folk the waxlights. 
 That were so closely twined, 
 And after them the ill nurse went 
 With an ill thought in her mind. 
 
 The lights were quenched, the nurse went forth, 
 They deemed they were alone : 
 Lord Hafbur drew off his kirtle red. 
 Then first his sword outshone. 
 
 Lord Hafbur mid his longing sore 
 Down on the bed he sat : 
 I tell you of my soothfastness, 
 His byrny clashed thereat. 
 
 Then spake the darUng Signy, 
 Out of her heart she said, 
 " Never saw I so rough a shirt 
 Upon so fair a maid." 
 
 She laid her hand on Hafbur's breast 
 With the red gold all a-blaze : 
 " Why wax thy breasts in no such wise 
 As they wax in other mays ? "
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 193 
 
 " The wont it is in my father's land 
 For maids to ride to the Thing, 
 Therefore my breasts are little of growth 
 Beneath the byrny-ring." 
 
 And there they lay through the night so long, 
 
 The King's son and the may, 
 
 In talk full sweet, but little of sleep, 
 
 So much on their minds there lay. 
 
 " Hearken, sweet maiden Signy, 
 As here alone we lie, 
 Who is thy dearest in the w^orld, 
 And lieth thine heart most nigh ? " 
 
 " O there is none in all the world 
 Who lieth so near to my heart 
 As doth the bold King Hafbur : 
 Ne'er in liim shall I have a part. 
 
 '• As doth the bold King Hafbur 
 
 That mine eyes shall never know : 
 
 Nought but the sound of his gold-wrought horn 
 
 As he rides to the Thing and fro." 
 
 " O, is it Hafbur the King's son 
 That thy loved heart holdeth dear ? 
 Turn hither, O my well-beloved, 
 To thy side I lie so near."
 
 194 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " If thou art the King's son Hafbur, 
 Why wilt thou shame me, love, 
 Why ridest thou not to my father's garth 
 With hound, and with hawk upon glove ? 
 
 " Once was I in thy father's garth, 
 With hound and hawk and all : 
 And with many mocks he said me nay. 
 In such wise did our meeting fall.-' 
 
 All the while they talked together 
 
 They deemed alone they were. 
 
 But the false nurse ever stood close without, 
 
 And nought thereof she failed to hear. 
 
 O shame befall that evil nurse, 
 III tidings down she drew. 
 She stole away his goodly sword, 
 But and his byrny new. 
 
 She took to her his goodly sword, 
 
 His byrny blue she had away. 
 
 And she went her ways to the high bower 
 
 Whereas King Siward lay. 
 
 " Wake up, wake up. King Siward ! 
 Over long thou sleepest there. 
 The while the King's son Hafbur 
 Lies abed by Signy the fair."
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 " No Hafbur is here, and no King's son, 
 That thou shouldst speak this word; 
 He is far away in the east-countries, 
 Warring with knight and lord. 
 
 " Hold thou thy peace, thou evil nurse. 
 
 And lay on her no lie, 
 
 Or else tomorn ere the sun is up 
 
 In the bale-fire shall ye die." 
 
 " O hearken to this, my lord and king. 
 And trow me nought but true ; 
 Look here upon his bright white sword, 
 But and his byrny blue ! " 
 
 Then mad of mind waxed Siward, 
 Over all the house 'gan he cry, 
 '^Rise up, O mighty men of mine, 
 For a hardy knight is anigh : 
 
 " Take ye sword and shield in hand, 
 And look that they be true; 
 For Hafbur the King hath guested with us ; 
 Stiffnecked he is, great deeds to do." 
 
 So there anigh the high-bower door 
 They stood with spear and glaive : 
 "Rise up, rise up. Young Hafbur, 
 Out here we would thee have ! " 
 
 95
 
 T96 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 That heard the goodly Signy, 
 And she wrang her hands full sore : 
 " Hearken and heed, O Hafbur, 
 Who stand without by the door ! " 
 
 Thank and praise to the King's son Hafbur, 
 Manly he played and stout ! 
 None might lay hand upon him 
 While the bed-post yet held out. 
 
 But they took him, the King's son Hafbur, 
 And set him in bolts new wrought ; 
 Then lightly he rent them asunder. 
 As though they were leaden and nought. 
 
 Out and spake the ancient nurse, 
 And she gave a rede of ill : 
 " Bind ye him but in Signy's hair, 
 vSo shall hand and foot lie still. 
 
 " Take ye but one of Signy's hairs 
 Hafbur's hands to bind. 
 Ne'er shall he rend them asunder, 
 His heart to her is so kind." 
 
 Then took they two of Signy's hairs 
 Bonds for his hands to be, 
 Nor might he rive them asunder, 
 So dear to his heart was she.
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 197 
 
 Then spake the sweetling Signy 
 
 As the tears fast down her cheek did fall : 
 
 " O rend it asunder, Hafbur, 
 
 That gift to thee I give withal." 
 
 Now sat the King's son Hafbur 
 
 Amidst the castle-hall, 
 
 And thronged to behold him man and maid, 
 
 But the damsels chiefest of all. 
 
 They took him, the King's son Hafbur, 
 Laid bolts upon him in that place, 
 And ever went Signy to and fro, 
 The weary tears fell down apace. 
 
 She speaketh to him in sorrowful mood : 
 "This will I, Hafbur, for thee, 
 Piteous prayer for thee shall make 
 My mother's sisters three. 
 
 " For my father's mind stands fast in this, 
 To do thee to hang upon the bough 
 On the topmost oak in the morning-tide 
 While the sun is yet but low." 
 
 But answered thereto young Hafbur 
 Out of a wrathful mind : 
 " Of all heeds I lieeded, this was the last. 
 To be prayed for by womankind.
 
 198 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " But hearken, true-love Signy, 
 
 Good heart to my asking turn, 
 
 When thou seest me swing on oaken-bough 
 
 Then let thy high-bower burn." 
 
 Then answered the noble Signy, 
 So sore as she must moan, 
 " God to aid, King's son Hafbur, 
 Well will I grant thy boon." 
 
 They followed him. King Hafbur, 
 Thick thronging from the castle-bent : 
 And all who saw him needs must greet 
 And in full piteous wise they went. 
 
 But when they came to the fair green mead 
 
 Where Hafbur was to die, 
 
 He prayed them hold a little while : 
 
 For his true-love would he try. 
 
 " O hang me up my cloak of red, 
 That sight or my ending let me see. 
 Perchance yet may King Siward rue 
 My hanging on the gallows tree." 
 
 Now of the cloak was Signy ware 
 And sorely sorrow her heart did rive. 
 She thought : " The ill tale all is told, 
 No longer is there need to live."
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 199 
 
 Straightway her damsels did she call 
 As weary as she was of mind : 
 " Come, let us go to the bower aloft 
 Game and glee for a while to find." 
 
 Yea and withal spake Signy, 
 She spake a word of price : 
 " To-day shall I do myself to death 
 And meet Hafbur in Paradise. 
 
 " And whoso there be in this our house 
 Lord Haf bur's death that wrought, 
 Good reward I give them now 
 To red embers to be brought. 
 
 " So many there are in the King's garth 
 Of Haf bur's death shall be glad ; 
 Good reward for them to lose 
 The trothplight mays they had." 
 
 She set alight to the bower aloft 
 And it burned up speedily, 
 And her good love and her great heart 
 Might all with eyen see. 
 
 It was the King's son Hafbur 
 
 O'er his shoulder cast his eye, 
 
 And beheld how Signy 's house of maids 
 
 On a red low stood on high.
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 " Now take ye down my cloak of red, 
 Let it lie on the earth a-cold ; 
 Had I ten lives of the world for one, 
 Nought of them all would I hold." 
 
 King Siward looked out of his window fair 
 In fearful mood enow. 
 For he saw Hafbur hanging on oak 
 And Signy's bower on a low. 
 
 Out then spake a little page 
 
 Was clad in kirtle red : 
 
 " Sweet Signy burns in her bower aloft, 
 
 With all her mays unwed." 
 
 Therewithal spake King Siward 
 From rueful heart unfain ; 
 " Ne'er saw I two King's children erst 
 Such piteous ending gain. 
 
 " But had I wist or heard it told 
 That love so strong should be, 
 Ne'er had I held those twain apart 
 For all Denmark given me. 
 
 " O hasten and run to Signy's bower 
 For the life of that sweet thing ; 
 Hasten and run to the gallows high, 
 No thief is Hafbur the King."
 
 HAFBUR AND SIGNY 
 
 But when they came to Signy's bower 
 Low it lay in embers red ; 
 And when they came to the gallows tree, 
 Hafbur was stark and dead. 
 
 They took him the King's son Hafbur, 
 
 Swathed him in linen white, 
 
 And laid him in the earth of Christ 
 
 By Signy his delight. 
 
 O wilt thou win me then, 
 
 or as fair a maid as I be ? 
 
 20I
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 
 
 It was Goldilocks woke up in the morn 
 x\t the first of the shearing of the corn. 
 
 There stood his mother on the hearth 
 And of new-leased wheat was little dearth. 
 
 There stood his sisters by the quern, 
 
 For the high-noon cakes they needs must earn. 
 
 " O tell me Goldilocks my son, 
 
 Why hast thou coloured raiment on ? " 
 
 " Why should I wear the hodden grey 
 When I am light of heart to-day ? " 
 
 " Oh tell us, brother, why ye wear 
 In reaping-tide the scarlet gear ? 
 
 Why hangeth the sharp sword at thy side 
 When through the land 'tis the hook noes wide ? "
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 20: 
 
 " Gay-clad am I that men may know 
 The freeman's son where'er I go. 
 
 The grinded sword at side I bear 
 
 Lest I the dastard's word should hear." 
 
 " O tell me Goldilocks my son, 
 
 Of whither away thou wilt be gone ? " 
 
 " The morn is fair and the world is wide, 
 And here no more will I abide." 
 
 " O Brother, when wilt thou come again ? " 
 " The autumn drought, and the winter rain. 
 
 The frost and the snow, and St. David's wind, 
 All these that were time out of mind. 
 
 All these a many times shall be 
 Ere the Upland Town again I see." 
 
 " O Goldilocks my son, farewell, 
 
 As thou wendest the world 'twixt home and hell ! ' 
 
 " O brother Goldilocks, farewell. 
 
 Come back with a tale for men to tell ! " 
 
 So 'tis wellaway for Goldilocks, 
 
 As he left tht^ land of the wheatcn shocks.
 
 204 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 He's gotten him far from the Upland Town, 
 And he's gone by Dale and he's gone by Down. 
 
 He's come to the wild-wood dark and drear, 
 Where never the bird's song doth he hear. 
 
 He has slept in the moonless wood and dim 
 With never a voice to comfort him. 
 
 He has risen up under the little light 
 
 Where the noon is as dark as the summer night. 
 
 Six days therein has he walked alone 
 
 Till his scrip was bare and his meat was done. 
 
 On the seventh morn in the mirk, mirk wood, 
 He saw sight that he deemed was good. 
 
 It was as one sees a flower a-bloom 
 In the dusky heat of a shuttered room. 
 
 He deemed the fair thing far aloof, 
 And would go and put it to the proof. 
 
 But the very first step he made from the place 
 He met a maiden face to face. 
 
 Face to face, and so close was she 
 That their lips met soft and lovingly.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 205 
 
 Sweet-mouthed she was, and fair he wist ; 
 And again in the darksome wood they kissed. 
 
 Then first in the wood her voice he heard, 
 As sweet as the song of the summer bird. 
 
 " O thou fair man with the golden head, 
 What is the name of thee ? " she said. 
 
 " My name is Goldilocks," said he; 
 
 " O sweet-breathed, what is the name of thee?" 
 
 '' O Goldilocks the Swain," she said, 
 " My name is Goldilocks the Maid." 
 
 He spake, " Love me as I love thee, 
 And Goldilocks one flesh shall be." 
 
 She said, " Fair man, I wot not how 
 Thou lovest, but I love thee now. 
 
 But come a little hence away. 
 That I may see thee in the day. 
 
 For hereby is a wood-lawn clear 
 And good for awhile for us it were." 
 
 Therewith she took him by the hand 
 And led him into the lighter land.
 
 2o6 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 There on the grass they sat adown. 
 Clad she was in a kirtle brown. 
 
 In all the world was never maid 
 So fair, so evilly arrayed. 
 
 No shoes upon her feet she had, 
 And scantly were her shoulders clad 
 
 Through her brown kirtle's rents full wide 
 Shone out the sleekness of her side. 
 
 An old scrip hung about her neck, 
 Nought of her raiment did she reck. 
 
 No shame of all her rents had sh^ ; 
 She gazed upon him eagerly. 
 
 She leaned across the grassy space 
 And put her hands about his face. 
 
 She said : " O hunger-pale art thou, 
 
 Yet shalt thou eat though I hunger now." 
 
 She took him apples from her scrip, 
 She kissed him, cheek and chin and lip. 
 
 She took him cakes of woodland bread : 
 " Whiles am I hunger-pinched," she said.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 207 
 
 She had a gourd and a pilgrim shell ; 
 She took him water from the well. 
 
 She stroked his breast and his scarlet gear ; 
 She spake, " How brave thou art and dear ! " 
 
 Her arms about him did she wind; 
 He felt her body dear and kind. 
 
 " O love," she said, *' now two are one, 
 And whither hence shall we be gone ? " 
 
 " Shall we fare further than this wood," 
 Quoth he, " I deem it dear and good ? " 
 
 She shook her head, and laughed, and spake ; 
 " Rise up ! For thee, not me, I quake. 
 
 Had she been minded me to slay 
 Sure she had done it ere to-day. 
 
 But thou : this hour the crone shall know 
 That thou art come, her very foe. 
 
 No minute more on tidings wait. 
 Lest e'en this minute be too late." 
 
 She led him from the sunlit green, 
 Going sweet-stately as a queen.
 
 2o8 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 There in the dusky wood, and dim, 
 As forth they went, she spake to him : 
 
 " Fair man, few people have I seen 
 Amidst this world of woodland green : 
 
 But I would have thee tell me now 
 If there be many such as thou." 
 
 "Betwixt the mountains and the sea, 
 O Sweet, be many such," said he. 
 
 Athwart the glimmering air and dim 
 AVith wistful eyes she looked on him. 
 
 " But ne'er an one so shapely made 
 Mine eyes have looked upon," she said. 
 
 He kissed her face, and cried in mirth : 
 
 " Where hast thou dwelt then on the earth ? 
 
 " Ever," she said, " I dwell alone 
 With a hard-handed cruel crone. 
 
 And of this crone am I the thrall 
 To serve her still in bower and hall ; 
 
 And fetch and carry in the wood, 
 And do whate'er she deemeth good.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 209 
 
 But whiles a sort of folk there come 
 And seek my mistress at her home ; 
 
 But such-like are they to behold 
 As make my very blood run cold. 
 
 Oft have I thought, if there be none 
 
 On earth save these, would all were done ! 
 
 Forsooth, I knew it was not so, 
 
 But that fairer folk on earth did grow. 
 
 But fain and full is the heart in me 
 To know that folk are like to thee." 
 
 Then hand in hand they stood awhile 
 Till her tears rose up beneath his smile. 
 
 And he must fold her to his breast 
 To give her heart a while of rest. 
 
 Till sundered she and gazed about. 
 And bent her brows as one in doubt. 
 
 She spake : " The wood is growing thin, 
 Into the full light soon shall we win. 
 
 Now crouch we that we be not seen, 
 Under yon bramble-bushes green." 
 
 o
 
 2IO POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Under the bramble-bush they lay 
 Betwixt the dusk and the open day. 
 
 " O Goldilocks my love, look forth 
 
 And let me know what thou seest of worth." 
 
 He said : " I see a house of stone, 
 A castle excellently done." 
 
 " Yea," quoth she, " There doth the mistress dwell. 
 What next thou seest shalt thou tell." 
 
 " What lookest thou to see come forth ? " 
 " Maybe a white bear of the North." 
 
 ♦' Then shall my sharp sword lock his mouth." 
 " Nay," she said, " or a worm of the South." 
 
 " Then shall my sword his hot blood cool." 
 " Nay, or a whelming poison-pool." 
 
 " The trees its swelling flood shall stay, 
 And thrust its venomed lip away." 
 
 "Nay, it may be a wild-fire flash 
 To burn thy lovely limbs to ash." 
 
 " On mine own hallows shall I call, 
 And dead its flickering flame shall fall."
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 211 
 
 " O Goldilocks my love, I fear 
 That ugly death shall seek us here. 
 
 Look forth, O Goldilocks my love. 
 That I thine hardy heart may prove. 
 
 What Cometh down the stOne-wrought stair 
 That leadeth up to the castle fair ? " 
 
 " Adown the doorward stair of stone 
 There cometh a woman all alone." 
 
 " Yea, that forsooth shall my mistress be : 
 "jO Goldilocks, what like is she .^" 
 
 " O fair she is of her array, 
 
 As hither ward she wends her way." 
 
 " Unlike her wont is that indeed : 
 Is she not foul beneath her weed ? " 
 
 " O nay, nay ! l]ut most wondrous fair 
 Of all the women earth doth bear." 
 
 " O Goldilocks, my heart, my heart ! 
 Woe, woe ! for now we drift apart." 
 
 But up he sprang from the bramble-side, 
 And " () thou fairest one I " he cried :
 
 212 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And forth he ran that Queen to meet, 
 And fell before her gold-clad feet. 
 
 About his neck her arms she cast, 
 
 And into the fair-built house they passed. 
 
 And under the bramble-bushes lay 
 Unholpen, Goldilocks the may. 
 
 Thenceforth a while of time there wore, 
 And Goldilocks came forth no more. 
 
 Throughout that house he wandered wide, 
 Both up and down, from side to side. 
 
 But never he saw an evil crone, 
 
 But a full fair Queen on a golden throne. 
 
 Never a barefoot maid did he see. 
 But a gay and gallant company. 
 
 He sat upon the golden throne. 
 And beside him sat the Queen alone. 
 
 Kind she was, as she loved him well. 
 And many a merry tale did tell. 
 
 But nought he laughed, nor spake again. 
 For all his life was waste and vain.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 213 
 
 Cold was his heart, and all afraid 
 To think on Goldilocks the Maid. 
 
 Withal now was the wedding dight 
 When he should wed that lady bright. 
 
 The night was gone, and the day was up 
 When they should drink the bridal cup. 
 
 And he sat at the board beside the Queen, 
 Amidst of a guest-folk well beseen. 
 
 But scarce was midmorn on the hall, 
 When down did the mirk of midnight fall. 
 
 Then up and down from the board they ran. 
 And man laid angry hand on man. 
 
 There was the cry, and the laughter shrill. 
 And every manner word of ill. 
 
 Whoso of men had hearkened it. 
 
 Had deemed he had woke up over the Pit. 
 
 Then spake the Queen o'er all the crowd. 
 And grim was her speech, and harsh, and loud : 
 
 " Hold now your peace, ye routing swine. 
 While I sit with mine own love over the wine !
 
 2 14 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 For this dusk is the very deed of a foe, 
 Or under the sun no man I know." 
 
 And hard she spake, and loud she cried 
 
 Till the noise of the bickering guests had died. 
 
 Then again she spake amidst of the mirk, 
 In a voice like an unoiled wheel at work : 
 
 " Whoso would have a goodly gift, 
 Let him bring aback the sun to the lift. 
 
 Let him bring aback the light and the day. 
 And rich and in peace he shall go his way," 
 
 Out spake a voice was clean and clear : 
 " Lo, I am she to dight your gear ; 
 
 But I for the deed a gift shall gain. 
 To sit by Goldilocks the Swain. 
 
 I shall sit at the board by the bridegroom's side, 
 And be betwixt him and the bride. 
 
 I shall eat of his dish, and drink of his cup, 
 Until for the bride-bed ye rise up." 
 
 Then was the Queen's word wailing-wild :
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 215 
 
 Thou shalt sit by my groom till the dawn of night, 
 And then shalt thou wend thy ways aright." 
 
 Said the voice, " Yet shalt thou swear an oath 
 That free I shall go though ye be loth." 
 
 " How shall I swear ? " the false Queen spake : 
 " Wherewith the sure oath shall I make ? " 
 
 " Thou shalt swear by the one eye left in thine head, 
 And the throng of the ghosts of the evil dead." 
 
 She swore the oath, and then she spake : 
 '' Now let the second dawn awake." 
 
 And e'en therewith the thing was done ; 
 
 There was peace in the hall, and the light of the sun. 
 
 And again the Queen was calm and fair, 
 And courteous sat tlie guest-folk there. 
 
 Yet unto Goldilocks it seemed 
 
 As if amidst the night he dreamed ; 
 
 As if he sat in a grassy place, 
 
 While slim hands framed his hungry face ; 
 
 As if in the clearing of the wood 
 One gave him bread and apples good ;
 
 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 And nought he saw of the guest-folk gay, 
 And nought of all the Queen's array. 
 
 Yet saw he betwixt board and door, 
 A slim maid tread the chequered floor. 
 
 Her gown of green so fair was wrought, 
 That clad her body seemed with nought 
 
 But blossoms of the summer-tide, 
 
 That wreathed her, limbs and breast and side. 
 
 And, stepping towards him daintily, 
 A basket in her hand had she. 
 
 And as she went, from head to feet. 
 Surely was she most dainty-sweet. 
 
 Love floated round her, and her eyes 
 Gazed from her fairness glad and wise ; 
 
 But babbling-loud the guests were grown ; 
 Unnoted was she and unknown. 
 
 Now Goldilocks she sat beside. 
 
 But nothing changed was the Queenly bride 
 
 Yea too, and Goldilocks the Swain 
 Was grown but dull and dazed again.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 217 
 
 The Queen smiled o'er the guest-rich board, 
 Although his wine the Maiden poured ; 
 
 Though from his dish the Maiden ate, 
 The Queen sat happy and sedate. 
 
 But now the Maiden fell to speak 
 
 From lips that well-nigh touched his cheek : 
 
 " O Goldilocks, dost thou forget ? 
 Or mindest thou the mirk-wood yet ? 
 
 Forgettest thou the hunger-pain 
 
 And all thy young life made but vain ? 
 
 How there was nought to help or aid, 
 But for poor Goldilocks the Maid ? " 
 
 She murmured, " Each to each we two. 
 Our faces from the wood-mirk grew. 
 
 Hast thou forgot the grassy place, 
 And love betwixt us face to face ? 
 
 Hast thou forgot how fair I deemed 
 
 Thy face ? How fair thy garment seemed ? 
 
 Thy kisses on my shoulders bare. 
 Through rents of the poor raiment there ?
 
 2i8 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 My arms that loved thee nought unkissed 
 All o'er from shoulder unto wrist ? 
 
 Hast thou forgot how brave thou wert, 
 Thou with thy fathers' weapon girt ; 
 
 When underneatli the bramble-bush 
 I quaked like river-shaken rush, 
 
 Wondering what new-wrought shape of death 
 Should quench my new love-quickened breath? 
 
 Or else : forget'st thou, Goldilocks, 
 Thine own land of the wheaten shocks r 
 
 Thy mother and thy sisters dear, 
 
 Thou said'st would bide thy true-love there ? 
 
 Hast thou forgot ? Hast thou forgot ? 
 O love, my love, I move thee not." 
 
 Silent the fair Queen sat and smiled, 
 And heeded nought the Angel's child, 
 
 For like an image fashioned fair 
 Still sat the Swain with empty stare. 
 
 These words seemed spoken not, but writ 
 As foolish tales through night-dreams flit.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 219 
 
 Vague pictures passed before his sight, 
 As in the first dream of the night. 
 
 But the Maiden opened her basket fair, 
 And set two doves on the table there. 
 
 And soft they cooed, and sweet they billed 
 Like man and maid with love fulfilled. 
 
 Therewith the Maiden reached a hand 
 To a dish that on the board did stand ; 
 
 And she crumbled a share of the spice-loaf brown. 
 And the Swain upon her hand looked down ; 
 
 Then unto the fowl his eyes he turned ; 
 And as in a dream his bowels yearned 
 
 For somewhat that he could not name ; 
 And into his heart a hope there came. 
 
 And still he looked on the hands of the Maid, 
 As before the fowl the crumbs she laid. 
 
 And he murmured low, " O Goldilocks ! 
 Were we but amid the wheaten shocks ! " 
 
 Then the false Queen knit her brows and laid 
 A fair white hand by the hand of the Maid.
 
 220 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 He turned his eyes away thereat, 
 And closer to the Maiden sat. 
 
 But the queen-bird now the carle-bird fed 
 Till all was gone of the sugared bread. 
 
 Then with wheedling voice for more he craved, 
 And the Maid a share from the spice-loaf shaved 
 
 And the crumbs within her hollow hand 
 She held where the creeping doves did stand. 
 
 But Goldilocks, he looked and longed, 
 
 And saw how the carle the queen-bird wronged. 
 
 For when she came to the hand to eat 
 The hungry queen-bird thence he beat. 
 
 Then Goldilocks the Swain spake low : 
 " Foul fall thee, bird, thou doest now 
 
 As I to Goldilocks, my sweet, 
 
 Who gave my hungry mouth to eat." 
 
 He felt her hand as he did speak, 
 He felt her face against his cheek. 
 
 He turned and stood in the evil hall, 
 And swept her up in arms withal.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 22 
 
 Then was there hubbub wild and strange, 
 And swiftly all things there 'gan change. 
 
 The fair Queen into a troll was grown, 
 A one-eyed, bow-backed, haggard crone. 
 
 And though the hall was yet full fair, 
 And bright the sunshine streamed in there. 
 
 On evil shapes it fell forsooth ; 
 Swine-heads ; small red eyes void of ruth ; 
 
 And bare-boned bodies of vile things. 
 And evil-feathered bat-felled wings. 
 
 And all these mopped and mowed and grinned. 
 And sent strange noises down the wind. 
 
 There stood those twain unchanged alone 
 To face the horror of the crone ; 
 
 She crouched against them by the board ; 
 
 And cried the Maid : " Thy sword, thy sword ! " 
 
 Thy sword, O Goldilocks ! For see 
 She will not keep her oath to me." 
 
 Out flashed the blade therewith. He saw 
 The foul thing sidelong toward them draw.
 
 222 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Holding within her hand a cup 
 Wherein some dreadful drink seethed up. 
 
 Then Goldilocks cried out and smote, 
 And the sharp blade sheared the evil throat. 
 
 The head fell noseling to the floor ; 
 The liquor from the cup did pour, 
 
 And ran along a sparkling flame 
 That nigh unto their footsoles came. 
 
 Then empty straightway was the hall, 
 Save for those twain, and she withal. 
 
 So fled away the Maid and Man, 
 And dow^n the stony stairway ran. 
 
 Fast fled they o'er the sunny grass, 
 Yet but a little way did pass 
 
 Ere cried the Maid : " Now cometh forth 
 The snow-white ice-bear of the North ; 
 
 Turn, Goldilocks, and heave up sword ! " 
 Then fast he stood upon the sward. 
 
 And faced the beast, that whined and cried, 
 And shook his head from side to side.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 223 
 
 But round him the Swain danced and leaped, 
 And soon the grisly head he reaped. 
 
 And then the ancient blade he sheathed, 
 And ran unto his love sweet-breathed ; 
 
 And caught her in his arms and ran 
 Fast from that house, the bane of man. 
 
 Yet therewithal he spake her soft 
 And kissed her over oft and oft, 
 
 Until from kissed and trembling mouth 
 She cried : " The Dragon of the South ! " 
 
 He set her down and turned about, 
 And drew the eager edges out. 
 
 And therewith scaly coil on coil 
 Reared 'gainst his face the mouth aboil : 
 
 The gaping jaw and teeth of dread 
 Was dark 'twixt heaven and his head. 
 
 But with no fear, no thought, no word, 
 He thrust the thin-edged ancient sword. 
 
 And the hot blood ran from the hairy throat, 
 And set the summer grass afloat.
 
 224 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Then back he turned and caught her hand, 
 And never a minute did they stand. 
 
 But as they ran on toward the wood, 
 He deemed her swift feet fair and good. 
 
 She looked back o er her shoulder fair : 
 " The whelming poison-pool is here; 
 
 And now availeth nought the blade : 
 O if my cherished trees might aid ! 
 
 But now my feet fail. Leave me then ! 
 And hold my memory dear of men." 
 
 He caught her in his arms again ; 
 Of her dear side was he full fain. 
 
 Her body in his arms was dear : 
 
 " Sweet art thou, though we perish here ! 
 
 Like quicksilver came on the flood : 
 But lo, the borders of the wood ! 
 
 She slid from out his arms and stayed; 
 Round a great oak her arms she laid. 
 
 " If e'er I saved thee, lovely tree, 
 From axe and saw, now succour me :
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 225 
 
 Look how the venom creeps anigh, 
 Help ! lest thou see me writhe and die." 
 
 She crouched beside the upheaved root, 
 The bubbUng venom touched her foot; 
 
 Then with a sucking gasping sound 
 It ebbed back o'er the blighted ground. 
 
 Up then she rose and took his hand 
 And never a moment did they stand. 
 
 " Come, love," she cried, " the ways I know, 
 How thick soe'er the thickets grow. 
 
 O love, I love thee ! O thine heart ! 
 How mighty and how kind thou art ! " 
 
 Therewith they saw the tree-dusk lit. 
 Bright grey the great boles gleamed on it. 
 
 " O flee," she said, " the sword is nought 
 Against the flickering fire-flaught." 
 
 " But this availeth yet," said he, 
 
 " That Hallows All our love may see." 
 
 He turned about and faced the glare : 
 " O Mother, help us, kind and fair !
 
 226 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Now help me, true St. Nicholas, 
 If ever truly thine I was ! " 
 
 Therewith the wild-fire waned and paled, 
 And in the wood the light nigh failed ; 
 
 And all about 'twas as the night. 
 He said : " Now won is all our fight, 
 
 And now meseems all were but good 
 If thou mightst bring us from the wood." 
 
 She fawned upon him, face and breast; 
 She said : " It hangs 'twixt worst and best. 
 
 And yet, O love, if thou be true, 
 One thing alone thou hast to do." 
 
 Sweetly he kissed her, cheek and chin : 
 "What work thou biddest will I win." 
 
 " O love, my love, I needs must sleep; 
 Wilt thou my slumbering body keep. 
 
 And, toiling sorely, still bear on 
 
 The love thou seemest to have won } " 
 
 " O easy toil," he said, " to bless 
 Mine arms with all thy loveliness."
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 227 
 
 She smiled ; " Yea, easy it may seem, 
 But harder is it than ye deem. 
 
 For hearken ! Whatso thou mayst see, 
 Piteous as it may seem to thee, 
 
 Heed not nor hearken ! bear me forth, 
 
 As though nought else were aught of worth. 
 
 For all earth's wealth that may be found 
 Lay me not sleeping on the ground, 
 
 To help, to hinder, or to save ! 
 
 Or there for me thou diggest a grave." 
 
 He took her body on his arm, 
 
 Her slumbering head lay on his barm. 
 
 Then glad he bore her on the way, 
 And the wood grew lighter with the day, 
 
 All still it was, till suddenly 
 He heard a bitter wail near by. 
 
 Yet on he went until he heard 
 The cry become a shapen word : 
 
 " Help me, O help, thou passer by ! 
 Turn from the path, let me not die !
 
 228 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 I am a woman ; bound and left 
 To perish ; of all help bereft. 
 
 Then died the voice out in a moan ; 
 He looked upon his love, his own, 
 
 And minding all she spake to him 
 
 Strode onward through the wild-wood dim. 
 
 But lighter grew the woodland green 
 Till clear the shapes of things were seen. 
 
 And therewith wild halloos he heard. 
 And shrieks, and cries of one afeard. 
 
 Nigher it grew and yet more nigh 
 Till burst from out a brake near by 
 
 A woman bare of breast and limb. 
 Who turned a piteous face to him 
 
 E'en as she ran : for hard at heel 
 Followed a man with brandished steel, 
 
 And yelling mouth. Then the Swain stood 
 One moment in the glimmering wood 
 
 Trembling, ashamed : Yet now grown wise 
 Deemed all a snare for ears and eyes.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 229 
 
 So onward swiftlier still he strode 
 And cast all thought on his fair load. 
 
 And yet in but a little space 
 
 Back came the yelling shrieking chase, 
 
 And well-nigh gripped now by the man, 
 Straight unto him the woman ran ; 
 
 And underneath the gleaming steel 
 E'en at his very feet did kneel. 
 
 She looked up ; sobs were all her speech, 
 Yet sorely did her face beseech. 
 
 While o'er her head the chaser stared. 
 Shaking aloft the edges bared. 
 
 Doubted the Swain, and a while did stand 
 As she took his coat-lap in her hand. 
 
 Upon his hand he felt her breath 
 Hot with the dread of present death. 
 
 Sleek was her arm on his scarlet coat. 
 The sobbing passion rose in his throat. 
 
 But e'en therewith he looked aside 
 And saw the face of the sleeping bride.
 
 230 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Then he tore his coat from the woman's hand, 
 And never a moment there did stand. 
 
 But swiftly thence away he strode 
 Along the dusky forest road. 
 
 And there rose behind him laughter shrill, 
 And then was the windless wood all still. 
 
 He looked around o'er all the place, 
 But saw no image of the chase. 
 
 And as he looked the night-mirk now 
 O'er all the tangled wood 'gan flow. 
 
 Then stirred the sweetling that he bore, 
 And she slid adown from his arms once more. 
 
 Nought might he see her well-loved face ; 
 But he felt her lips in the mirky place. 
 
 " 'Tis night," she said, " and the false day's gone, 
 And we twain in the wild-wood all alone. 
 
 Night o'er the earth ; so rest we here 
 Until to-morrow's sun is clear. 
 
 For overcome is every foe 
 
 And home to-morrow shall we go."
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 231 
 
 So 'neath the trees they lay, those twain, 
 And to them the darksome night was gain. 
 
 But when the morrow's dawn was grey 
 They woke and kissed whereas they lay. 
 
 And when on their feet they came to stand 
 Swain Goldilocks stretched out his hand. 
 
 And he spake : " O love, my love indeed, 
 Where now is gone thy goodly weed? 
 
 For again thy naked feet I see, 
 
 And thy sweet sleek arms so kind to me. 
 
 Through thy rent kirtle once again 
 Thy shining shoulder showeth plain." 
 
 She blushed as red as the sun-sweet rose : 
 " My garments gay were e'en of those 
 
 That the false Queen dight to slay my heart ; 
 And sore indeed was their fleshly smart. 
 
 Yet must I bear them, well-beloved, 
 Until thy truth and troth was proved ; 
 
 And this tattered coat is now for a sign 
 That thou hast won me to be thine.
 
 232 POEMS BY THE WAY 
 
 Now wilt thou lead along thy maid 
 To meet thy kindred unafraid." 
 
 As stoops the falcon on the dove 
 He cast himself about her love. 
 
 He kissed her over, cheek and chin, 
 He kissed the sweetness of her skin. 
 
 Then hand in hand they went their way 
 Till the wood grew light with the outer day 
 
 At last behind them lies the wood, 
 And before are the Upland Acres good. 
 
 On the hill's brow awhile they stay 
 At midmorn of the merry day. 
 
 He sheareth a deal from his kirtle meet, 
 To make her sandals for her feet. 
 
 He windeth a wreath of the beechen tree. 
 Lest men her shining shoulders see. 
 
 And a wreath of woodbine sweet, to hide 
 The rended raiment of her side; 
 
 And a crown of poppies red as wine. 
 Lest on lier head the hot sun shine.
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 23 
 
 She kissed her love withal and smiled : 
 
 " Lead forth, O love, the Woodland Child ! 
 
 Most meet and right meseems it now 
 That I am clad with the woodland bough. 
 
 For betwixt the oak-tree and the thorn 
 Meseemeth erewhile was I born. 
 
 And if my mother aught I knew, 
 
 It was of the woodland folk she grew. 
 
 And O that thou art well at ease 
 To wed the daughter of the trees ! " 
 
 Now Goldilocks and Goldilocks 
 
 Go down amidst the wheaten shocks, 
 
 But when anigh to the town they come, 
 Lo there is the wain a-wending home. 
 
 And many a man and maid beside, 
 Who tossed the sickles up, and cried : 
 
 " O Goldilocks, now whither away? 
 
 And what wilt thou with the woodland may ? " 
 
 " O this is Goldilocks my bride, 
 
 And we come adown from the wild-wood side.
 
 34 POEMS BY THE WAV 
 
 And unto the Fathers' House we wend 
 To dwell therein till life shall end." 
 
 " Up then on the wain, that ye may see 
 From afar how thy mother bideth thee. 
 
 That ye may see how kith and kin 
 Abide thee, bridal brave to win." 
 
 So Goldilocks and Goldilocks 
 
 Sit high aloft on the wheaten shocks. 
 
 And fair maids sing before the wain, 
 For all of Goldilocks are fain. 
 
 But when they came to the Fathers' door, 
 There stood his mother old and hoar. 
 
 Yet was her hair with grey but blent. 
 
 When forth from the Upland Town he went. 
 
 There by the door his sisters stood; 
 Full fair they were and fresh of blood ; 
 
 Little they were when he went away : 
 Now each is meet for a young man's may. 
 
 " O tell me. Goldilocks, my son, 
 
 What are the deeds that thou hast done ? "
 
 GOLDILOCKS AND GOLDILOCKS 235 
 
 " I have wooed me a wife in the forest wild, 
 And home I bring the Woodland Child." 
 
 " A Httle deed to do, O son, 
 
 So long a while as thou wert gone." 
 
 " O mother, yet is the summer here 
 Now I bring aback my true-love dear. 
 
 And therewith an Evil Thing have I slain ; 
 Yet I come with the first-come harvest-wain." 
 
 " O Goldilocks, my son, my son ! 
 
 How good is the deed that thou hast done ? 
 
 But how long the time that is worn away ! 
 Lo ! white is my hair that was but grey. 
 
 And lo these sisters here, thine own. 
 How tall, how meet for men-folk grown ! 
 
 Come, see thy kin in the feasting-hall. 
 And tell me if thou knowcst them all ! 
 
 O son, O son, we are blithe and fain ; 
 
 But the autumn drought, and the winter rain, 
 
 The frost and tlie snow, and St. David's wind, 
 All these that were, time out of mind,
 
 36 POEMS BY THE WAV 
 
 All these a many times liave been 
 
 Since thou the Upland Town hast seen." 
 
 Then never a word spake Goldilocks 
 
 Till they came adown from the wheaten shocks. 
 
 x\nd there beside his love he stood 
 And he saw her body sweet and good. 
 
 Then round her love his arms he cast : 
 " The years are as a tale gone past. 
 
 But many the years that yet shall be 
 Of the merry tale of thee and me. 
 
 Come, love, and look on the Fathers' Hall, 
 And the folk of the kindred one and all ! 
 
 For now the Fathers' House is kind. 
 And all the ill is left behind. 
 
 And Goldilocks and Goldilocks 
 
 Shall dwell in the land of the Wheaten Shocks.' 
 
 Printed by Bali.axtyne, Hanson 6^ Co. 
 Edinburgh d-= London
 
 William Morris's Works 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. Library Edition. Crown 
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 THE EARTHLY PARADISE. 4 vols. 5s. net each. 
 
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 POEMS BY THE WAY; AND LOVE IS 
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