Poems by the Way

Chapter 45 : Goldilocks And Goldilocks
It was Goldilocks woke up in the morn At the first of the shearing of the corn. There stood his mother on the hearth And of new-leased wheat was little dearth. There stood his sisters by the quern, For the high-noon cakes they needs must earn. "O tell me Goldilocks my son, Why hast thou colored raiment on?" "Why should I wear the hodden gray When I am light of heart to-day?" "O tell us, brother, why ye wear In reaping-tide the scarlet gear? Why hangeth the sharp sword at thy side When through the land 'tis the hook goes wide?" "Gay-clad am I that men may know The freeman's son where'er I go. The grinded sword at side I bear Lest I the dastard's word should hear." "O tell me Goldilocks my son, Of whither away thou wilt be gone?" "The morn is fair and the... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 44 : Hafbur And Signy
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. King Hafbur & King Siward They needs must stir up strife, All about the sweetling Signy Who was so fair a wife. O wilt thou win me then, or as fair a maid as I be? It was the King's son Hafbur Woke up amid the night, And 'gan to tell of a wondrous dream In swift words nowise light. "Me-dreamed I was in Heaven Amid that fair abode, And my true-love lay upon mine arm And we fell from cloud to cloud." As there they sat, the dames and maids, Of his words they took no keep, Only his mother well-beloved Heeded his dreamful sleep. "Go get thee gone to the mountain, And make no long delay; To the elve's eldest daughter For thy dream's areding pray." So the King's son, even Hafbur, Took his sword in his left hand,... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 43 : Knight Aagen And Maiden Else
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may. He plighted troth to Else All with the ruddy gold, But or ere that day's moon came again Low he lay in the black, black mold. It was the maiden Else, She was fulfilled of woe When she heard how the fair knight Aagen In the black mold lay alow. Uprose the fair knight Aagen, Coffin on back took he, And he's away to her bower, Sore hard as the work might be. With that same chest on door he smote, For the lack of flesh and skin; "O hearken, maiden Else, And let thy true-love in!" Then answered maiden Else, "Never open I my door, But and if thou namest Jesu's name As thou hadst might before." "O hea... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 42 : Agnes And The Hill-Man
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. Agnes went through the meadows a-weeping, Fowl are a-singing. There stood the hill-man heed thereof keeping. Agnes, fair Agnes! "Come to the hill, fair Agnes, with me, The reddest of gold will I give unto thee!" Twice went Agnes the hill round about, Then wended within, left the fair world without. In the hillside bode Agnes, three years thrice told o'er, For the green earth sithence fell she longing full sore. There she sat, and lullaby sang in her singing, And she heard how the bells of England were ringing. Agnes before her true-love did stand: "May I wend to the church of the English Land?" "To England's Church well mayst thou be gone, So that no hand thou lay the red gold upon. "So that when thou art come the churchyard anear Thou cast not abr... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 41 : The Son's Sorrow
FROM THE ICELANDIC. The King has asked of his son so good, "Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood? O fair it is to ride abroad. Thou playest not, and thou laughest not; All thy good game is clean forgot." "Sit thou beside me, father dear, And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear. Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land, And gavest me into a good Earl's hand. Now had this good Earl daughters seven, The fairest of maidens under heaven. One brought me my meat when I should dine, One cut and sewed my raiment fine. One washed and combed my yellow hair, And one I fell to loving there. Befell it on so fair a day, We minded us to sport and play. Down in a dale my horse bound I, Bound on my saddle speedily. Bright red she was as the flickering flame... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Voice Of Toil
I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying, All days shall be as all have been; To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow, The never-ending toil between. When Earth was younger mid toil and hunger, In hope we strove, and our hands were strong; Then great men led us, with words they fed us, And bade us right the earthly wrong. Go read in story their deeds and glory, Their names amid the nameless dead; Turn then from lying to us slow-dying In that good world to which they led; Where fast and faster our iron master, The thing we made, for ever drives, Bids us grind treasure and fashion pleasure For other hopes and other lives. Where home is a hovel and dull we grovel, Forgetting that the world is fair; Where no babe we cherish, lest its very ... (From : Marxists.org.)

Mine And Thine
FROM A FLEMISH POEM OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. Two words about the world we see, And naught but Mine and Thine they be. Ah! might we drive them forth and wide With us should rest and peace abide; All free, naught owned of goods and gear, By men and women though it were. Common to all all wheat and wine Over the seas and up the Rhine. No manslayer then the wide world o'er When Mine and Thine are known no more. Yea, God, well counseled for our health, Gave all this fleeting earthly wealth A common heritage to all, That men might feed them therewithal, And clothe their limbs and shoe their feet And live a simple life and sweet. But now so rageth greediness That each desireth nothing less Than all the world, and all his own; And all for him and... (From : Marxists.org.)

The God Of The Poor
There was a lord that hight Maltete, Among great lords he was right great, On poor folk trod he like the dirt, None but God might do him hurt. Deus est Deus pauperum. With a grace of prayers sung loud and late Many a widow's house he ate; Many a poor knight at his hands Lost his house and narrow lands. Deus est Deus pauperum. He burnt the harvests many a time, He made fair houses heaps of lime; Whatso man loved wife or maid Of Evil-head was sore afraid. Deus est Deus pauperum. He slew good men and spared the bad; Too long a day the foul dog had, E'en as all dogs will have their day; But God is as strong as man, I say. Deus est Deus pauperum. For a valiant knight, men called Boncoeur, Had hope he should not long endure, And gathered to him m... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Lay Of Christine
TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC. Of silk my gear was shapen, Scarlet they did on me, Then to the sea-strand was I borne And laid in a bark of the sea. O well were I from the World away. Befell it there I might not drown, For God to me was good; The billows bare me up a-land Where grew the fair green-wood. O well were I from the World away. There came a Knight a-riding With three swains along the way And he took me up, the little-one, On the sea-sand as I lay. O well were I from the World away. He took me up, and bare me home To the house that was his own, And there bode I so long with him That I was his love alone. O well were I from the World away. But the very first night we lay abed Befell his sorrow and harm, That thither came the King's ... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Day Of Days
Each eve earth falleth down the dark, As though its hope were o'er; Yet lurks the sun when day is done Behind to-morrow's door. Gray grows the dawn while men-folk sleep, Unseen spreads on the light, Till the thrush sings to the colored things, And earth forgets the night. No otherwise wends on our Hope: E'en as a tale that's told Are fair lives lost, and all the cost Of wise and true and bold. We've toiled and failed; we spake the word; None hearkened; dumb we lie; Our Hope is dead, the seed we spread Fell o'er the earth to die. What's this? For joy our hearts stand still, And life is loved and dear, The lost and found the Cause hath crowned, The Day of Days is here. (From : Marxists.org.)