By the ever popular and prolific “Anonymous,” c.991.
Courage shall grow keener, clearer the will,
the heart fiercer; as our force faileth.
Here our lord lies leveled in the dust,
the man all marred: he shall mourn to the end
who thinks to wend off from this war-play now.
Though I am white with winters I will not away,
for I think to lodge me alongside my dear one,
lay me down by my lord’s white hand.