And now Redesman turned about to the music and drew his bow across his fiddle, and the other bows ran out in concert, and the harps followed the story of them, and he lifted up his voice and sang the words of an old song, and all the singers joined him and blended their voices with his. And these are some of the words which they sang: Lo! here is Spring, and all we are living, We that were wan with Winter’s fear; Reach out your hands to her hands that are giving, Lest ye lose her love and the light of the year. Many a morn did we wake to sorrow, When low on the land the cloud-wrath lay; Many an eve we feared to-morrow, The unbegun unfinished day. Ah we—we hoped not, and thou wert tardy; Nought wert thou helping; nought we prayed. Where was the eager heart, the hardy? Where was the sweet-voiced unafraid? But now thou lovest, now thou leadest, Where is gone the grief of our minds? What was the word of the tale, that thou heedest E’en as the breath of the bygone winds? Green and green is thy garment growing Over thy blossoming limbs beneath; Up o’er our feet rise the blades of thy sowing, Pierced are our hearts with thine odorous breath. But where art thou wending, thou new-comer? Hurrying on to the Courts of the Sun? Where art thou now in the House of the Summer? Told are thy days and thy deed is done. Spring has been here for us that are living After the days of Winter’s fear; Here in our hands is the wealth of her giving, The Love of the Earth, and the Light of the Year. Thus came they to the Gate, and lo! the Bride thereby, leaning against a buttress, gazing with no dull eyes at the coming throng. She was now clad in her woman’s attire again, to wit a light flame-coloured gown over a green kirtle; but she yet bore a gilded helm on her head and a sword girt to her side in token of her oath to the God. She had been in Hall-face’s company in that last battle, and had done a man’s service there, fighting very valiantly, but had not been hurt, and had come back to Burgstead when the shift of men was. Now she drew herself up and stood a little way before the Gate and looked forth on the throng, and when her eyes beheld the Runaways amidst of the weaponed carles of Burgdale, her face flushed, and her eyes filled with tears as she stood, partly wondering, partly deeming what they were. She waited till Stone-face came by her, and then she took the old man by the sleeve, and drew him apart a little and said to him: ‘What meaneth this show, my friend? Who hath clad these folk thus strangely; and who be these three naked tall ones, so fierce-looking, but somewhat noble of aspect?’