William Morris

“ Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born, That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be, And fair the Goth-folk groweth. ”

“ There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor worst, But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath cursed. The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof, For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof. ”

“ I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong, And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long. I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail, And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o'er the treeless vale. I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead, And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o'er his head, And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host, And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost ”