The Avenging Sword

Sir Peter rode to the castle door,
The King of Danes he stood before.
—Forward, hurrah! ride forward.

“Welcome, Sir Peter, comrade mine!
Say, hast thou avenged that sire o’ thine?”

“Oh, I ha’ been so southerly
Until the sun bowed down to me.

“And I ha’ been so westerly
Until the sun sank near to me.

“And I ha’ been so northerly
Until the frost was frore to see.

“And I ha’ been so easterly
Until the day was fair to see;

“But never did I find the wight
Could rede me my father’s death aright!”

“Oh, say, what wilt thou give the wight
Can rede thee thy father’s death aright?”

“Of silver he shall have his fill,
And of golden coin whate’er he will!

“Yea, more I’ll give to him,
A ship in sailing-trim!”

He smiled, the King, his words to heed:
“Here stands he that did the deed!

“By GOD in heaven, I tell thee true,
None but I thy father slew!”

Sir Peter smote himself on the breast:
“Heart, bide still, nor break thy rest!

“Heart, lie still, bide patiently:
Sure and swift shall my vengeance be.”

In the garth Sir Peter stayed
To speak with his good blade:

“Harken, sword so good!
Wilt drink thy fill of blood?

“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me?
No brother have I on earth but thee.”

“Oh, say, how can I fight for thee?
My hilt lies broken in pieces three.”

To the smith his way he wended
That the hurt might be amended.

He gave him iron, he gave him steel
Of proof and price, the hurt to heal.

“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me?
No brother have I on earth but thee.”

“Be only in thy blows so stern
As I’ll be swift in point to turn!

“Be only in thy blows so stout
As I in hilt will bear thee out!”

Sir Peter sought the hall
Where the knights were drinking all.

To prove his sword he was so fain
That seven champions straight lay slain;

Up and down he swung his blade,
Neither matron he spared nor maid;

Behind the arras there he thrust,
The King and his sons they bit the dust.

Up spake the babe, in cradle lay:
“A red revenge dost thou wreak to-day!

“A red revenge for that sire o’ thine—
GOD give me a day for avenging mine!”

“And have I avenged that sire o’ mine,
Shalt see no day for avenging thine!”

He seized the babe amain,
And struck it straight in twain.

“Cease, brown brand, thy thirst to slake!
Bide thou still for our Saviour’s sake!”

Wearily whispered the sword and still:
“Fain o’ thy blood I’d have my fill!

“Hadst thou not named my name, I vow
I would have slain thee, here and now!”

He sought the smith again,
Bade forge an iron chain.

He bound in chains both foot and hand,
For now would he leave for aye the land.

But when o’er the grave of the King he passed
The chains of iron were riven and brast.
—Forward, hurrah! ride forward.