Then it was but a little while before Red-wolf lifted up his voice, and sang:
‘Hearken a wonder, O Folk of the Field,
How they that did sunder stand shield beside shield!
Lo! the old wont and manner by fearless folk made,
On the Bole of the Banner the brothers’ hands laid.
Lo! here the token of what hath betid!
Grown whole is the broken, found that which was hid.
Now one way we follow whate’er shall befall;
As seeketh the swallow his yesteryear’s hall.
Seldom folk fewer to fight-stead hath fared;
Ne’er have men truer the battle-reed bared.
Grey locks now I carry, and old am I grown,
Nor looked I to tarry to meet with mine own.
For we who remember the deeds of old days
Were nought but the ember of battle ablaze.
For what man might aid us? what deed and what day
Should come where Weird laid us aloof from the way?
What man save that other of Twain rent apart,
Our war-friend, our Brother, the piece of our heart.