ORIGINAL VERSES
THE KING’S HUNTING
The king has busked him forth to ride
All on his steed so brown—
He’s halted him by the standing stone
To see the sun sink down.
And is it the moan of the mourning pine
Doth in his ear complain?
The wizened bough of the lean thorn-tree
That clutches his bridle-rein?
He looks, and knows the grisly witch
That wears the grey wolf-skin—
“Ruth, ruth, oh king, on the deadly wrong
That’s wrought thy realm within!
“Thou hast taken a wife of alien life
From far beyond the sea;
And she’s brought in a foreign faith
To flout thy gods and thee.
“The kirk-bell rings, the pale priest sings,
By thorpe and tower and town—
The black rood stands with arms spread wide
Where of old the blood ran down.
“The carven stone stands drear and lone—
And the old gods in their pain
Rave high and wail in the winter gale
And sob in the running rain.
“Harken and hear—for I crouched this eve
Where thistle and dock grow tall,
And I saw her steal from the postern-gate
And creep by the palace-wall.