“King, this is one day’s feast;
But days are coming with famine-blight;
Wolf winds howl from the east!”
Hot from the king’s heart leaped a deed,
High as his iron crown:
(Noble souls have a deathless need
To stoop to the lowest down.)
“Thanes, I swear by Godde’s Bride
This is a cursèd thing—
Hunger for the folk outside,