54
Death doing on earth is
For ever his cry;
And pillage and plunder
His hope in the sky!
'Tis midnight, deep midnight,
And dark is the heaven;
Sir Halbert, in mockery,
Wends to be shriven.
He kneels not to stone,
And he bends not to wood;
But he swung round his brown blade,
And hewed down the Rood!
He stuck his long sword, with
Its point in the earth;
And he prayed to its cross hilt,
In mockery and mirth.
Thus lowly he louteth,
And mumbles his beads;
Then lightly he riseth,
And homeward he speeds.
