The Raven Rune-Bearer

'Tis little May walks on the strand,
And wrings with grief her lily hand.

It's summer tide, and all so fair;
Oh! had she but her trulove there!

A swarthy raven came in sight,
Winging to north his rapid flight.

"Hark thee, wild raven, what I say,
"Canst thou for me a rune convey?"

"Thy rune with equal speed I'll take,
"As can thine hand the letters make."

Straight at her feet the hird she saw.
And wrote the runes within his claw.

He flew that day, he flew for three,
Ere he her trulove's sail could see.

He lighted down upon the prow,
The runes in the knight's hand to throw.

The knight his archer call'd, and said,
"Shoot me that fierce wild raven dead."

"Knight, gallant knight, shoot not at me,
"And breeze so fair I'll give to thee."

The ship sped on, the raven flew,
They reached the island both the two.

The ship below, the bird above,
They came to the knight's ladylove.