He looked to right, he looked to left,
And a happy man was he,
As he stroked the head of the good gre-hound
That stood beside his knee.
'O, I am weary, wife, my wife,
[55] And the flames begin to pale;
Lead on, for I would sleep awhile
Before I tell my tale.'
She lifted the bright curtain
That led into her bower;
There came the tramp of parting feet
And silence held the tower.
'O wife, how long have I been gone?
The room smells of roses still—
O wife, our babes are very young,
Their limbs are cold and chill....'
She folded up their raiment small,
She smiled but said no word:
She laid her children in one bed,
Then came beside her lord.
He could not sleep, he could not wake,
[56] But lay in silence there;
His dear wife held him by the hand,
He felt her wind-blown hair—
'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one,
'Why must we sleep so soon?
The sun is hidden down below,
I still can see the moon.'
'Be quiet, be quiet, my little child,
And watch the moonbeams creep;
To-night you may not play about,
For your father lies asleep.'
'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one,
'It is not time for bed!
Where have you put my little lid?
I cannot hide my head.'
'Lie still, lie still, my tiny child,
[57] Your father dear is found:
We four shall never sleep again
In the dark and heavy mound.'