William Morris

“ What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of thy kindred and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves like thralls new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and are outcast? ”

“ O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst not bear This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear? Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods, That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods, Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead's seed? ”

“ I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of the kin; The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race, And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place, And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood's leafy roof. ”

“ He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there was in her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous. But she said again:
"Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh mirth Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth. A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone; But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone? Yea verily I am the outcast. When first in thine arms I lay On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away ”

“ And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night, And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the light. Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone; But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie, I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh! A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought, Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear—and nought. ”

“ There they abode till after the rising of the sun, and each to each spake many loving words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her ways at her will.
But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his sheath, and wound the peace-strings round him. Then he took up the hauberk from the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did it on him, as it were of the attire he was wont to carry daily. So he girt Throng-plough to him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top to the folk, who were just stirring in the early morning. ”

“ Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word of thine, And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in mine. Yea, for a man's delivrance was the hauberk born indeed That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need. And where is the curse's dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well therein? ”

“ So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear, casting Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been minded to bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood musing while the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his turfs and then another, and rolled two or three of the stones over, and then softly thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling all the little bights by the way for a minute or two ”