Page:The Sundering Flood - Morris - 1898.djvu/109

 Came sword and shield To the hazelled field Where the fey-man fell At Wethermel: The grey blade grew glad In the hands of a lad, And the tall man and stark Leapt into the dark. For the cleaver of war-boards came forth from his door And guided the hand of the lacking in lore.

But now is the blade In the dark sheath laid, And the peace-strings lull His heart o'erfull. Up dale and down The hall-roofs brown Hang over the peace Of the year's increase. No fear rendeth midnight, and dieth the day With no foe save the winter that weareth away.

Then he cried out: Draw nigh, goodman and grandsire, and take again the house and lands of Wethermel, as ye had them aforetime before yesterday was a day. So the goodman came to him and kissed him, and thanked him kindly and humbly, and the women came and embraced him and hung about him. As for Surly John, he had slunk away so soon as he saw the fall of his master, and now when they looked around for him, they saw him but as a fleck going swiftly down the Dale. Thereat they all laughed together, and the laughter eased their hearts, so that they felt free and happy.