later on I shall wax no wiser."

Therewith he sat down, and there arose a murmur and stir in the hall; but
the more part said that the Grey-goose had spoken well, and that it was
good to be at peace with such manly fellows as the new guest was.

But the Erne said: "One word will I lay hereto, to wit, that he who
desireth mine enmity let him do scathe to Hallblithe of the Ravens and
hinder him."

Then he bade fill round the cups, and called a health to Hallblithe, and
all men drank to him, and there was much joyance and merriment.

But when the night was well worn, the Erne turned to Hallblithe and said:
"That was a good word of the Grey-goose which he spake concerning the
giving of gifts: Raven-son, wilt thou take a gift of me and be my
friend?"

"Thy friend will I be," said Hallblithe, "but no gift will I take of thee
or any other till I have the gift of gifts, and that is my troth-plight
maiden. I will not be glad till I can be glad with her."

Then laughed the Erne, and the Puny Fox grinned all across his wide face,
and Hallblithe looked from one to the other of them and wondered at their
mirth, and when they saw his wondering eyes, they did but laugh the more;
and the Erne said: "Nevertheless, thou shalt see the gift which I would
give thee; and then mayst thou take it or leave it as thou wilt. Ho ye!
bring in the throne of the Eastland with them that minister to it!"

Certain men left the hall as he spake, and came back bearing with them a
throne fashioned most goodly of ivory, parcel-gilt and begemmed, and
adorned with marvellous craftsmanship: and they set it down amidst of the
hall-floor and went aback to their places, while the Erne sat and smiled
kindly on the folk and on Hallblithe. Then arose the sound of fiddles
and the lesser harp, and the doors of the screen were opened, and there
flowed into the hall a company of fair damsels not less than a score,
each one with a rose on her bosom, and they came and stood in order
behind the throne of the Eastlands, and they strewed roses on the ground
before them: and when they were duly ranged they fell to singing:

Now waneth spring,
While all birds sing,
And the south wind blows
The earliest rose
To and fro
By the doors we know,
And the scented gale
Fills every dale.
Slow now are brooks running because of the weed,
And the thrush hath no cunning to hide her at need,
So s