Hilda with placid smile. Severer then
She added: “Son, the commonest gifts of God
He counts his best, and oft temptation blends
With powers more rare. Yet sing! That God who lifts
The violet from the grass as well could draw
Music from stones hard by. That song thou sang’st,
Sing it once more.”
Then Ceadmon from his knees
Arose and stood. With princely instinct first
The strong man to the abbess bowed, and next