 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Sons.
How steered they then?
Cædmon.
I trow, that night, sons, many supped with Woden.
This only is sure; such fell, ere dawn, fierce tempest,
(Quaked even our Minster walls!) which on Great Deep
Raised war of billows, roaring on huge heaps.
Bucklers and broken oars, and Northmens spears;
And timbers of split ship, were cast on craigs,
In the next days; where wild sheer cliffs, of coasts,
Which none inhabit, wall seas boisterous waves.
How steered they then?
Cædmon.
I trow, that night, sons, many supped with Woden.
This only is sure; such fell, ere dawn, fierce tempest,
(Quaked even our Minster walls!) which on Great Deep
Raised war of billows, roaring on huge heaps.
Bucklers and broken oars, and Northmens spears;
And timbers of split ship, were cast on craigs,
162
Which none inhabit, wall seas boisterous waves.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |