nd again
Comes the ship from the main,
And we came once more
And no lading we bore
But the point and the edge,
And the ironed ledge,
And the bolt and the bow,
And the bane of the foe.
To the House 'neath the mountain we came in the morn,
Where welleth the fountain up over the corn,
And the stream is a-running fast on to the House
Of the neighbours uncunning who quake at the mouse,
As their slumber is broken; they know not for why;
Since yestreen was not token on earth or in sky.

Come, up, then up!
Leave board and cup,
And follow the gleam
Of the glittering stream
That leadeth the road To the old abode,
High-walled and white
In the moon and the night;
Where low lies the neighbour that drave us away
Sleep-sunk from his labour amidst of the hay.
No road for our riding is left us save one,
Where the hills' brow is hiding the city undone,
And the wind in the willows is with us at last,
And the house of the billows is done and o'er-past.

Haste! mount and haste
Ere the short night waste,
For night and day,
Late turned away,
Draw nigh again
All kissing-fain;
And the morn and the moon
Shall be married full soon.
So ride we together with wealth-winning wand,
The steel o'er the leather, the ash in the hand.
Lo! white walls before us, and high are they built;
But the luck that outwore us now lies on their guilt;
Lo! the open gate biding the first of the sun,
And to peace are we riding when slaughter is done.

When Ralph had done singing, all folk fell to praising his song,
whereas the Lord had praised the other one; but the Lord said, looking
at Ralph askance meanwhile: "Yea, if that pleaseth me not, and I take
but little keep of it, it shall please my wife to her heart's root; and
that is the first thing. Hast thou others good store, new-comer?"
"Yea, lord," said Ralph. "And canst thou tell tales of yore agone, and
of the fays and such-like? All that she must have." "Some deal I can of
that lore," said Ralph.

Then the Lord sat silent, and seemed to be pondering: at last he said,
as if to himself: "Yet there is one thing: many a blencher can sing of
battle; and it hath been seen, that a fair body of a man is whiles soft
amidst the hard hand-play. Thou! Morfinn's luck! art thou of any use
in the tilt-yard?" "Wilt thou try me, lord?" said Ralph, l