The Lay of Love
I know secrets,
But many more,
Elude the wise,
Well versed in cunning.
The man who says,
He knows women,
Wrestles with wyrd,
Looks for failure.
Swan necks glide,
With measured grace,
Towards the traps,
The wise are set:
Many a man,
Who grins at foes,
Finds bravery dying,
In smiling eyes.
Fools laugh at,
Once wise warriors,
Caught in nets,
Cunningly set.
To think in lines,
Is wisdom in war,
But the hearth,
Is home to circles.
A man has needs;
Women know,
The secret look,
That snares the prize.
Let no prince say,
He truly rules,
For he is ruled,
In his chamber.
Once I entered,
A familiar hall:
Guests took ease,
Laughing in cups.
Swords were peaceful,
But the lace wearer spun,
A web of desire;
I was lost to men.
Let no man lie,
And swear disgust,
All are flattered,
In their hearts.
I left that hall,
With longer strides,
My joy was full;
The better victory.
I know well,
That love too,
Has other sides,
When the huscarl runs.
Bored with his brood mare,
He leaps on the drakkar,
Seeking adventure,
Away from sorrow.
Wave steeds leave,
A foaming wake,
Of broken promises,
And disillusion.
None can know,
The unhappy future,
When eyes lock,
In the mead hall.
Women too,
Know disappointment,
Men can speak,
Well of love.
Captured by,
Cunning word play,
Then left,
For greener pastures.
Faithless I’ve seen,
The words of warriors,
When armies plunder,
Southern shores.
Booty is lost,
In the warmth of others,
While women pine,
For absent husbands.
Faithless too,
Women’s promises,
When wave steeds,
Sink below the horizon.
Cup bearers,
Seek consolation,
Huscarls and swains,
Each have virtues.
The wise weigh well,
The needs of now,
Led by lust,
For a pretty face.
But even wisdom,
Cannot see,
A brother’s desire,
For a faithful wife.
Once I saw,
A crying father,
Stood beside,
A gloomy stone.
Sons will fight,
When both see love,
None can stop,
The bloody end.
There can be,
No compensation,
For hasty words,
Said sunk in ale.
The serpent,
Is now released,
Spreads its poison,
Around the hearth.
Vainly now,
The jarl strives,
To pacify,
His lust led men.
The jarl is wise,
And well respected,
But love will conquer,
All good sense.
The man with daughters,
Knows constant fear,
When young,
He spoke smooth words.
Toothless now,
He still knows,
The words well used,
To speak of love.
The man with daughters,
Knows constant fear,
He tries to watch,
Every horizon.
He will be,
The last to know,
When brave hearth men,
Breach defences.
A famous man,
Proud in war strife,
Can still be prone,
To a hasty wedding.
Many the shieldman,
The sturdy comrade,
Was born on a moon,
Soon after a marriage.
Women think,
Love is a gift,
Every gift looks,
To its return.
The wise who seek,
A woman’s favours,
Bring silver,
To the negotiation.
The wise know,
That gifts can’t buy,
Love from,
An uncaring woman.
The fool thinks,
That gilded gifts,
Are buying love,
Not brief attention.
Tongue-tied,
The young man,
Shyly casts,
A loving glance.
The warriors see,
And laugh in their cups,
But all the while,
They deceive themselves.
Hearts fly,
The girl has won,
The young man,
Seeks not his comrades.
Then is pain,
For all must know,
Greenwood burns,
But fitfully.
Some complain,
But they must know,
That none can,
Stop the avalanche.
Better to accept,
And soothe those,
Who lose the fight,
And wish to weep.
Some are constant,
In their search,
Some are quiet,
But still seek.
Happy those,
Who find their fortune,
Envy should not,
Colour pleasure.
Ormstunga