And on the snow
Lay men alow;
And at Yule fared we feasting in war-warded wall,
And the helm and the byrny were bright in the hall.
Then changed the year
And Spring was dear,
But no maid went
On mead or bent,
For there grew on ground
New battle-round,
New war-wall ran
Round houses of man;
There tower to tower oft dark and dim grew
At noontide of Summer with rain of the yew.
'Neath point and edge
In the battle-hedge
We dwelt till wore
Late Summer o'er;
In the Autumn night
We steered aright
The wisdom bark
Through the steel-thronged dark;
The warrior we wafted from out of the fray,
And he woke midst the worthy and hearkened their say.
Now peace is won
And all strife done,
And in our hands
The fame of lands
Aback we bear
To the Dale the dear,
And the Fathers lie
Made glad thereby.
Now blossometh bliss in the howes of the old
At our tale growing green from their tale that is told.
Loud was the glee and the shouting at his song, and all men said that every whit thereof was sooth,
