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.)

Hildebrand And Hellelil
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. Hellelil sitteth in bower there, None knows my grief but God alone, And seweth at the seam so fair, I never wail my sorrow to any other one. But there whereas the gold should be With silk upon the cloth sewed she. Where she should sew with silken thread The gold upon the cloth she laid. So to the Queen the word came in That Hellelil wild work doth win. Then did the Queen do furs on her And went to Hellelil the fair. "O swiftly sewest thou, Hellelil, Yet naught but mad is thy sewing still!" "Well may my sewing be but mad Such evil hap as I have had. My father was good king and lord, Knights fifteen served before his board. He taught me sewing royally, Twelve knights had watch and ward of me. Well serve... (From : Marxists.org.)

All For The Cause
Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh, When the Cause shall call upon us, some to live, and some to die! He that dies shall not die lonely, many an one hath gone before; He that lives shall bear no burden heavier than the life they bore. Nothing ancient is their story, e'en but yesterday they bled, Youngest they of earth's beloved, last of all the valiant dead. E'en the tidings we are telling, was the tale they had to tell, E'en the hope that our hearts cherish, was the hope for which they fell. In the grave where tyrants thrust them, lies their labor and their pain, But undying from their sorrow springeth up the hope again. Mourn not therefore, nor lament it, that the world outlives their life; Voice and vision yet the... (From : Marxists.org.)

Hope Dieth: Love Liveth
Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong Thine heart to live, and love, and long; But thou art wed to grief and wrong: Live, then, and long, though hope be dead! Live on, & labor thro' the years! Make pictures through the mist of tears, Of unforgotten happy fears, That crossed the time ere hope was dead. Draw near the place where once we stood Amid delight's swift-rushing flood, And we and all the world seemed good Nor needed hope now cold and dead. Dream in the dawn I come to thee Weeping for things that may not be! Dream that thou layest lips on me! Wake, wake to clasp hope's body dead! Count o'er and o'er, and one by one The minutes of the happy sun That while agone on kissed lips shone, Count on, rest not, for hope is dead. Weep,... (From : Marxists.org.)

Meeting In Winter
Winter in the world it is, Round about the unhoped kiss Whose dream I long have sorrowed o'er; Round about the longing sore, That the touch of thee shall turn Into joy too deep to burn. Round thine eyes and round thy mouth Passeth no murmur of the south, When my lips a little while Leave thy quivering tender smile, As we twain, hand holding hand, Once again together stand. Sweet is that, as all is sweet; For the white drift shalt thou meet, Kind and cold-cheeked and mine own, Wrapped about with deep-furred gown In the broad-wheeled chariot: Then the north shall spare us not; The wide-reaching waste of snow Wilder, lonelier yet shall grow As the reddened sun falls down. But the warders of the town, When they flash the torches out O'er the sn... (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.)