Or how could page's rugged dress
That bosom's pride belie?

O, dull of heart, through wild and wave
In search of blood and death to rave,

With such a partner nigh!'

XVIII

Then in the mirrored pool he peered, Blamed his rough locks and shaggy beard, The stains of recent conflict cleared,

And thus the Champion proved That he fears now who never feared,

And loves who never loved.

And Eivir- life is on her cheek.

And yet she will not move or speak,

Nor will her eyelid fully ope;

Perchance it loves, that half-shut eye,

Through its long fringe, reserved and shy,
Affection's opening dawn to spy;

And the deep blush, which bids its dye
O'er cheek and brow and bosom fly,

Speaks shamefacedness and hope.

XIX

But vainly seems the Dane to seek

For terms his new-born love to speak,

For words, save those of wrath and wrong,
Till now were strangers to his tongue;
So, when he raised the blushing maid,
In blunt and honest terms he said

'T were well that maids, when lovers woo,

Heard none more soft, were all as true
'Eivir! since thou for many a day
Hast followed Harold's wayward way,
It is but meet that in the line

Of after-life I follow thine.
To-morrow is Saint Cuthbert's tide,
And we will grace his altar's side,

A Christian knight and Christian bride;
And of Witikind's son shall the marvel be said

That on the same morn he was christened and wed.'

CONCLUSION

AND now, Ennui, what ails thee, weary maid? And why these listless looks of yawning sorrow?

No need to turn the page as if 't were lead,

Or fling aside the volume till to-morrow.

Be cheered 't is ended - and I will not borrow,

-

To try thy patience more, one anecdote

From Bartholine or Perinskiold or Snorro.

Then pardon thou thy minstrel, who hath wrote A tale six cantos long, yet scorned to add a note.

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO

A POEM

Though Valois braved young Edward's gentle hand,
And Albert rush'd on Henry's way-worn band,
With Europe's chosen sons, in arms renown'd,
Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd,

Nor Audley's squires nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd, —
They saw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound.

AKENSIDE.