Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/99

 He comes then as Jarl should, Sword belted to side, To win thee and wear thee With glory and pride. So sternly Jarl Egill wooed, and smote his long brand.

Thy father, thy brethren, Thy kin keep from me, The maiden I've sworn shall Be Queen of the sea! A truce with that folly— Yon sea-strand can show If this eye missed its aim, Or this arm failed its blow: I had not well taken Three strides on this land Ere a Jarl and his six sons In death bit the sand. Nay, weep not, pale maid, though In battle should fall The kemps who would keep thy Bridegroom from the hall. So carped Jarl Egill and kissed the bright weeper.