Turn on thy path, O fair-foot maiden, And come our ways by the pathless road; Look how the clouds hang low and laden Over the walls of the old abode! _She singeth_. Bare are my feet for the rough waste’s wending, Wild is the wind, and my kirtle’s thin; Faint shall I be ere the long way’s ending Drops down to the Dale and the grief therein. _He singeth_. Do on the brogues of the wild-wood rover, Do on the byrnies’ ring-close mail; Take thou the staff that the barbs hang over, O’er the wind and the waste and the way to prevail. Come, for how from thee shall I sunder? Come, that a tale may arise in the land; Come, that the night may be held for a wonder, When the Wolf was led by a maiden’s hand! _She singeth_. Now will I fare as ye are faring, And wend no way but the way ye wend; And bear but the burdens ye are bearing, And end the day as ye shall end. And many an eve when the clouds are drifting Down through the Dale till they dim the roof, Shall they tell in the Hall of the Maiden’s Lifting, And how we drave the spoil aloof. _They sing together_. Over the moss through the wind and the weather, Through the morn and the eve and the death of the day, Wend we man and maid together, For out of the waste is born the fray. Then the Sun-beam spake to Gold-mane softly, and told him how this song was made by a minstrel concerning a foray in the early days of their first abode in Shadowy Vale, and how in good sooth a maiden led the fray and was the captain of the warriors: ‘Erst,’ she said, ‘this was counted as a wonder; but now we are so few that it is no wonder though the women will do whatsoever they may.’ So they talked, and Gold-mane was very happy; but ere the good-night cup was drunk, Folk-might spake to Face-of-god and said: ‘It were well that ye rose betimes in the morning: but thou shalt not go back by the way thou camest. Wood-wise and another shall go with thee, and show thee a way across the necks and the heaths, which is rough enough as far as toil goes, but where thy life shall be safer; and thereby shalt thou hit the ghyll of the Weltering Water, and so come down safely into Burgdale. Now that we are friends and fellows, it is no hurt for thee to know the shortest way to Shadowy Vale. What thou shalt tell concerning us in Burgdale I leave the tale thereof to thee; yet belike thou wilt not tell everything till I come to Burgstead at the spring market-tide. Now must I presently to bed; for before daylight to-morrow must I be following the hunt along with two score good men of ours.’ ‘What beast is afield then?’ said Gold-mane.