They sang these songs, and he learnt them by heart—­

  THE WOOF OF WAR.

  See! warp is stretched
  For warriors’ fall,
  Lo! weft in loom
  ’Tis wet with blood;
  Now fight foreboding,
  ‘Neath friends’ swift fingers,
  Our gray woof waxeth
  With war’s alarms,
  Our warp bloodred,
  Our weft corseblue.

  This woof is y-woven
  With entrails of men,
  This warp is hardweighted
  With heads of the slain,
  Spears blood-besprinkled
  For spindles we use,
  Our loom ironbound,
  And arrows our reels;
  With swords for our shuttles
  This war-woof we work;
  So weave we, weird sisters,
  Our warwinning woof.

  Now War-winner walketh
  To weave in her turn. 
  Now Swordswinger steppeth,
  Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
  When they speed the shuttle
  How spear-heads shall flash! 
  Shields crash, and helmgnawer[84]
  On harness bite hard!

  Wind we, wind swiftly
  Our warwinning woof. 
  Woof erst for king youthful
  Foredoomed as his own,
  Forth now we will ride,
  Then through the ranks rushing
  Be busy where friends
  Blows blithe give and take.

  Wind we, wind swiftly
  Our warwinning woof,
  After that let us steadfastly
  Stand by the brave king;
  Then men shall mark mournful
  Their shields red with gore,
  How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
  Stood stout by the prince.

  Wind we, wind swiftly
  Our warwinning woof;
  When sword-bearing rovers
  To banners rush on,
  Mind, maidens, we spare not
  One life in the fray! 
  We corse-choosing sisters
  Have charge of the slain.

  Now new-coming nations
  That island shall rule. 
  Who on outlying headlands
  Abode ere the fight;
  I say that King mighty
  To death now is done,
  Now low before spearpoint
  That Earl bows his head.

  Soon over all Ersemen
  Sharp sorrow shall fall,
  That woe to those warriors
  Shall wane nevermore;
  Our woof now is woven. 
  Now battle-field waste,
  O’er land and o’er water
  War tidings shall leap.

  Now surely ’tis gruesome
  To gaze all around,
  When bloodred through heaven
  Drives cloudrack o’er head;
  Air soon shall be deep hued
  With dying men’s blood
  When this our spaedom
  Comes speedy to pass.

  So cheerily chant we
  Charms for the young king,
  Come maidens lift loudly
  His warwinning lay;
  Let him who now listens
  Learn well with his ears,
  And gladden brave swordsmen
  With bursts of war’s song.

  Now mount we our horses,
  Now bare we our brands,
  Now haste we hard, maidens,
  Hence far, far away.

Then they plucked down the woof and tore it asunder, and each kept what she had hold of.