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“Wise are they, and learn’d, and saintly,
Rough am I and wild of mood,
But”—and towards his crew he pointed—
“Ravens’ claws are sharp and good.”
Grinned the crew, and whirled their axes,
Kicking high the blinding sands,
Whereat many a monk in terror
On his pale face struck his hands.
Puzzled, bit his lip, the Bishop,
Then he laughed both loud and long:
“Henceforth will I aye remember,
They count best whose arms are strong.
“Tell him if, despite our warning.
From good Church this gold he drain,
He shall have it, but our blessing
Hold we till he bring ’t again.
“For his own sake, pricked by conscience,
Some day hope we this to see.”
Then a murmur passed amongst them,
“Soon for his sake may this be.”
V.
Ho! what ship is this on Hafren,
Stretching outwards towards the west?
Raven wings once more are flapping
Homewards towards their Northern nest.
In the ship of blue-eyed Hacho
Went the gold across the main;
Did the Bishop’s promised blessing
Ever bring it back again?
Hark! an answer.—No, ’tis Echo
Singing but the same refrain,
“Did the Bishop’s promised blessing
Ever bring it back again?”
