Hereward felt his
shoulder touched from behind. One of the youths who had risen when he sat
down bent over him, and whispered in his ear,--
"Ah, Hereward, we know you. Do you not know us? We are the twins, the sons
of your sister, Siward the White and Siward the Red, the orphans of
Asbiorn Siwardsson, who fell at Dunsinane."
Hereward sprang up, struck the harp again, and sang,--
"Outlaw and free thief,
My kinsfolk have left me,
And no kinsfolk need I
Till kinsfolk shall need me.
My sword is my father,
My shield is my mother,
My ship is my sister,
My horse is my brother."
"Uncle, uncle," whispered one of them, sadly, "listen now or never, for we
have bad news for you and us. Your father is dead, and Earl Algar, your
brother, here in Ireland, outlawed a second time."
A flood of sorrow passed through Hereward's heart. He kept it down, and
rising once more, harp in hand,--
"Hereward, king, hight I,
Holy Leofric my father,
In Westminster wiser
None walked with King Edward.
High minsters he builded,
Pale monks he maintained.
Dead is he, a bed-death,
A leech-death, a priest-death,
A straw-death, a cow's death.
Such doom I desire not.
To high heaven, all so softly,
The angels uphand him,
In meads of May flowers
Mild Mary will meet him.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131