University of Virginia Library


122

[“White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm]

[Wolfkettle.]
“White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm,
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,
And dusketh the Moon's Sister, and the trees look overworn;
God's Ash-tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white
As the bones of the giants' father when the Gods first fared to fight.”