The Dawn in Britain by Charles M. Doughty |
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 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
The bereaved fatherhood of Moelmabon,
Of Wittig asked; and quaked the old king's voice;
For like now both those sires, in endless loss!
Of Wittig asked; and quaked the old king's voice;
For like now both those sires, in endless loss!
They tell how Wittig, to a sea-isle passed;
And thence his royal words bare Higelac forth;
Higelac, who, of all men of Almain speech,
For his well-shaping tongue, accepted is,
Next after Heorrenda, the old, lay-smith;
A wight divine: of whom, whilst dwelled, is told,
He yet mongst men, son of a king; (yet some
Him, son of Bragi name, the maker-god;
Ere took him, in their glittering hall, to sing,
In Asgarth, children of blithe blessed gods,)
What time he sate, to make, alone, in glade;
Gathered to him all beasts, of field and wood,
All creeping things in grass; worms under clod;
Fowls, lighting to him, folded their swift wings;
Sate on his shoulders, and his sacred knees:
Fishes left swimming, in the hasting stream;
Which stayed, the while, and fell her roaring waves!
And thence his royal words bare Higelac forth;
Higelac, who, of all men of Almain speech,
For his well-shaping tongue, accepted is,
Next after Heorrenda, the old, lay-smith;
A wight divine: of whom, whilst dwelled, is told,
He yet mongst men, son of a king; (yet some
Him, son of Bragi name, the maker-god;
145
In Asgarth, children of blithe blessed gods,)
What time he sate, to make, alone, in glade;
Gathered to him all beasts, of field and wood,
All creeping things in grass; worms under clod;
Fowls, lighting to him, folded their swift wings;
Sate on his shoulders, and his sacred knees:
Fishes left swimming, in the hasting stream;
Which stayed, the while, and fell her roaring waves!
Higelac then speeding, to Cheruscan kings,
From hall to hall; invoked the Saxen gods!
Quoth lay, which he, of Thorolf's death, had made:
Him likens he, to Balder; for whose death,
Wept all thing in mid-earth. Him, sighing, trees
Bewailed; winds howled, and sweated rocks and stones;
Stood speechless-beasts, in long astonishment!
Wights mourned and sprites; and cast-down were the gods!
From hall to hall; invoked the Saxen gods!
Quoth lay, which he, of Thorolf's death, had made:
Him likens he, to Balder; for whose death,
Wept all thing in mid-earth. Him, sighing, trees
Bewailed; winds howled, and sweated rocks and stones;
Stood speechless-beasts, in long astonishment!
Wights mourned and sprites; and cast-down were the gods!
Higelac sate, suppliant, at their Winter-hearths.
Then rose five Brennid kings, in furious mood;
Which Woden breathéd, in their warlike breasts.
They sware, with enemies, men, and hostile gods,
Do battle, till world's doom, and their own deaths!
Then rose five Brennid kings, in furious mood;
Which Woden breathéd, in their warlike breasts.
They sware, with enemies, men, and hostile gods,
Do battle, till world's doom, and their own deaths!
Each levied a strong power, in his own mark;
And come together, to moot-place, they choose
Great Awehelm, Friedemund's father, their proud duke:
Then marched those unto war. And followed flocks
Of hoodie crows, ravens and howling wolves,
Their folkings forth. Then Saxen kings thrice smote
The giant Getas: all his foes they strewed,
(Shouting dead Thorolf's name!) in Wittig's march.
Fell Catlif, slain, amongst the birds of death!
Honoured him Saxen heroes, with high mound.
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Great Awehelm, Friedemund's father, their proud duke:
Then marched those unto war. And followed flocks
Of hoodie crows, ravens and howling wolves,
Their folkings forth. Then Saxen kings thrice smote
The giant Getas: all his foes they strewed,
(Shouting dead Thorolf's name!) in Wittig's march.
Fell Catlif, slain, amongst the birds of death!
Honoured him Saxen heroes, with high mound.
| The Dawn in Britain | |