Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/97



In Jutland—in Iceland On Neustria's shore, Where'er the dark billow My gallant bark bore, Songs spoke of thy beauty, Harps sounded thy praise, And my heart loved thee long ere It thrilled in thy gaze; Ay, Daughter of Einar, Right tall may'st thou stand, It is a Vikingir Who kisses thy hand: It is a Vikingir That bends his proud knee, And swears by Great Freya, His bride thou must be! So Jarl Egill swore when his great heart was fullest.

Thy white arms are locked in Broad bracelets of gold; Thy girdle-stead's gleaming With treasures untold: The circlet that binds up Thy long yellow hair,