Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/102

 Thy foot treads this chamber, As bark rides the sea: This likes me—this likes me, Stout maiden of mould, Thou wooest to purpose; Bold hearts love the bold. So shouted Jarl Egill, and clutched the proud maiden.

Away and away then, I have thy small hand; Joy with me—our tall bark Now bears toward the strand; I call it the Raven, The wing of black night, That shadows forth ruin O'er islands of light: Once more on its long deck, Behind us the gale, Thou shalt see how before it Great kingdoms do quail; Thou shalt see then how truly, My noble-souled maid, The ransom of kings can Be won by this blade. So bravely Jarl Egill did soothe the pale trembler.