Why stand ye together, why bear ye the shield,
Now the calf straineth tether at edge of the field?
Now the lamb bleateth stronger and waters run clear,
And the day groweth longer and glad is the year?
Now the mead-flowers jostle so thick as they stand,
And singeth the throstle all over the land?
The Men of the Steer sing:
No cloud the day darkened, no thunder we heard,
But the horns’ speech we hearkened as men unafeared.
Yea, so merry it sounded, we turned from the Dale,
Where all wealth abounded, to wot of its tale.
The Men of the Bridge sing:
What white boles then bear ye, what wealth of the woods?
What chafferers hear ye bid loud for your goods?
The Men of the Bull sing:
O the bright beams we carry are stems of the steel;
Nor long shall we tarry across them to deal.