The swevens came up round Harold the Earl, Like motes in the sunnes beam; And over him stood the Weird Lady, In her charmed castle over the sea,
Sang‘ Lie thou still and dream.’ ‘ Thy steed is dead in his stall, Earl Harold, Since thou hast been with me; The rust has eaten thy harness bright,
And the rats have eaten thy greyhound light, That was so fair and free.’ Mary Mother she stooped from heaven; She wakened Earl Harold out of his sweven,
To don his harness on; And over the land and over the sea He wended abroad to his own countrie, A weary way to gon.
Oh but his beard was white with eld, Oh but his hair was gray; He stumbled on by stock and stone, And as he journeyed he made his moan
Along that weary way. Earl Harold came to his castle wall; The gate was burnt with fire; Roof and rafter were fallen down,
The folk were strangers all in the town, And strangers all in the shire. Earl Harold came to a house of nuns, And he heard the dead-bell toll;
He saw the sexton stand by a grave; ‘ Now Christ have mercy, who did us save, Upon yon fair nun's soul.’ The nuns they came from the convent gate
By one, by two, by three; They sang for the soul of a lady bright Who died for the love of a traitor knight: It was his own lady.
He stayed the corpse beside the grave; ‘ A sign, a sign!’ quod he. ‘ Mary Mother who rulest heaven, Send me a sign if I be forgiven
By the woman who so loved me.’ A white dove out of the coffin flew; Earl Harold's mouth it kist; He fell on his face, wherever he stood;
And the white dove carried his soul to God Or ever the bearers wist.
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