The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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[The War-god's gale] |
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 | CHAPTER XXIX. OSBERNE AND HIS MEN
RETURN TO WETHERMEL.
The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
109
[The War-god's gale]
[Osberne.]
The War-god's gale
Drave down the Dale
And thrust us out
To the battle-shout;
We wended far
To the wall of war
And trod the way
Where the edges lay,
The rain of the string rattled rough on the field
Where the haysel was hoarded with sword-edge & shield.
Drave down the Dale
And thrust us out
To the battle-shout;
We wended far
To the wall of war
And trod the way
Where the edges lay,
The rain of the string rattled rough on the field
Where the haysel was hoarded with sword-edge & shield.
Long lived the sun
When the play was begun,
And little but white
Was the moon all night;
But the days drew in
And work was to win,
And on the snow
Lay men alow,
And at Yule fared we feasting in war-warded wall
And the helm and the byrny were bright in the hall.
When the play was begun,
And little but white
Was the moon all night;
But the days drew in
And work was to win,
And on the snow
Lay men alow,
And at Yule fared we feasting in war-warded wall
And the helm and the byrny were bright in the hall.
Then changed the year
And spring was dear,
But no maid went
On mead or bent,
For there grew on ground
New battle-round,
New war-wall ran
Round houses of man,
There tower to tower oft dark and dim grew
At noontide of summer with rain of the yew.
And spring was dear,
But no maid went
On mead or bent,
For there grew on ground
New battle-round,
New war-wall ran
Round houses of man,
There tower to tower oft dark and dim grew
At noontide of summer with rain of the yew.
Neath point and edge
In the battle hedge
We dwelt till wore
Late summer o'er;
In the autumn night
We steered aright
The wisdom-bark
Through the steel-thronged dark,
The warrior we wafted from out of the fray,
And he woke midst the worthy and hearkened their say.
In the battle hedge
We dwelt till wore
Late summer o'er;
110
We steered aright
The wisdom-bark
Through the steel-thronged dark,
The warrior we wafted from out of the fray,
And he woke midst the worthy and hearkened their say.
Now peace is won
And all strife done,
And in our hands
The fame of lands
Aback we bear
To the dale the dear,
And the Fathers lie
Made glad thereby.
Now blossometh bliss in the howes of the old
At our tale growing green from their tale that is told.
And all strife done,
And in our hands
The fame of lands
Aback we bear
To the dale the dear,
And the Fathers lie
Made glad thereby.
Now blossometh bliss in the howes of the old
At our tale growing green from their tale that is told.
| CHAPTER XXIX. OSBERNE AND HIS MEN
RETURN TO WETHERMEL.
The Collected Works of William Morris | |