Waned the day and I hied me afield, and thereafter
    I sat with the mighty when daylight was done,
    But with great men beside me, midst high-hearted laughter,
    I deemed me of all men the gainfullest one.

    To wisdom I hearkened; for there the wise father
    Cast the seed of his learning abroad o’er the hall,

    Till men’s faces darkened, but mine gladdened rather
    With the thought of the knowledge I knew over all.

    Sang minstrels the story, and with the song’s welling
    Men looked on each other and glad were they grown,
    But mine was the glory of the tale and its telling
    How the loved and the lover were naught but mine own.

When he was done all kept silence till they should know whether the lord should praise the song or blame; and he said naught for a good while, but sat as if pondering:  but at last he spake:  “Thou art young, and would that we were young also!  Thy song is sweet, and it pleaseth me, who am a man of war, and have seen enough and to spare of rough work, and would any day rather see a fair woman than a band of spears.  But it shall please my lady wife less:  for of love, and fair women, and their lovers she hath seen enough; but of war nothing save its shows and pomps; wherefore she desireth to hear thereof.  Now sing of battle!”

Ralph thought awhile and began to smite the harp while he conned over a song which he had learned one yule-tide from a chieftain who had come to Upmeads from the far-away Northland, and had abided there till spring was waning into summer, and meanwhile he taught Ralph this song and many things else, and his name was Sir Karr Wood-neb.  This song now Ralph sang loud and sweet, though he were now a thrall in an alien land: 

    Leave we the cup! 
    For the moon is up,
    And bright is the gleam
    Of the rippling stream,
    That runneth his road
    To the old abode,
    Where the walls are white
    In the moon and the night;
    The house of the neighbour that drave us away
    When strife ended labour amidst of the hay,
    And no road for our riding was left us but one
    Where the hill’s brow is hiding that earth’s ways are done,
    And the sound of the billows comes up at the last
    Like the wind in the willows ere autumn is past.

    But oft and 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.