[htoolkit-users] He ends of the earth Because of the word of the King. For folk came

[Oguin A. <st...@da...>]

, And the great smooth women like ivory That the Turks sell in the
street." He sang the song of the thief of the world, And the gods that
love the thief; And he yelled aloud at the cloister-yards, Where men go
gathering grief. "Well have you sung, O stranger, Of death on the dyke
in Wales, Your chief was a bracelet-giver; But the red unbroken river Of
a race runs not for ever, But suddenly it fails. "Doubtless your sires
were sword-swingers When they waded fresh from foam, Before they were
turned to women By the god of the nails from Rome; "But since you bent
to the shaven men, Who neither lust nor smite, Thunder of Thor, we hunt
you A hare on the mountain height." King Guthrum smiled a little, And
said, "It is enough, Nephew, let Elf retune the string; A boy must needs
like bellowing, But the old ears of a careful king Are glad of songs
less rough." Blue-eyed was Elf the minstrel, With womanish hair and
ring, Yet heavy was his hand on sword, Though light upon the string. And
as he stirred the strings of the harp To notes but four or five, The
heart of each man moved in him Like a babe buried alive. And they felt
the land of the folk-songs Spread southward of the Dane, And they heard
the good Rhine flowing In the heart of all Allemagne. They felt the land
of the folk-songs, Where the