w wise I was
grown,
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had
shown;
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the
strong,
And we wended back in the war-wain 'midst the gleanings of the fight
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun's glimmering light.

"So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;
And e'en more was I loved than aforetime. So wore a year away,
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.

"But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the year,
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her
will,
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the
hallowed gold.
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell."

Then said the carline:

"What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of to-day?
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?"

Said the Hall-Sun.

"O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the kin hath a dwelling-
place,
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle
of foes,
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred's close;
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree
dear,
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear."

Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great Roof,
and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; a