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"Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of the kin; The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race, And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place, And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood's leafy roof.
Men were peaceful and happy, for the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded not the Roman Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home.
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite, And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my despite, Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say: Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same, Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle's shame; He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse, And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people's curse.
But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of the night- tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the sunshine, and he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said: "What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of thy kindred and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves like thralls new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and are outcast?
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its mirth? Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell, And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?"
But she said again: "Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh mirth Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth. A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone; But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone? Yea verily I am the outcast.
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great, And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate, And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse, Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?
Who then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb the rampart of God-home?" But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled to the very marrow of his bones. "I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met, we twain, in the wood: I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play good.
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