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I do defy thee and resist
The kindling frenzy of my breast,
Waked by thy words; and of my mail,
Nor glove, nor buckler, splent nor nail,
Shall rest with thee that youth release,
And, God or Demon, part in peace."
“ Eivir,” the Shape replied, " is mine,
Mark'd in the birth-hour with my sign.
Think'st thou that priest with drops of spray
Could wash that blood-red mark away?
Or that a borrow'd sex and name
Can abrogate a Godhead's claim?"
Thrill'd this strange speech through Harold's brain,
He clench'd his teeth in high disdain,
For not his new-born faith subdued
Some tokens of his ancient mood.
“ Now, by the hope so lately given
Of better trust and purer heaven,
I will assail thee, fiend!”—Then rose
His mace, and with a storm of blows
The mortal and the Demon close.

XVI.

Smoke roll'd above, fire flash'd around,
Darken'd the sky and shook the ground,

But not the artillery of hell, The bickering lightning, nor the rock of turrets to the earthquake's shock, i !!!,

Could Harold's courage quell. Sternly the Dane his purpose kept, And blows on blows resistless heap'd,

Till quail'd that Demon Form, VOL. VI.

And for his power to hurt or kill
Was bounded by a higher will -

Evanish'd in the storm.
Nor paused the Champion of the North,
But raised, and bore his Eivir forth,
From that wild scene of fiendish strife,
To light, to liberty, and life!

XVII.
He placed her on a bank of moss,

A silver runnel bubbled by,
And new-born thoughts his soul engross,
And tremors yet unknown across

His stubborn sinews fly,
The while with timid hand the dew
Upon her brow and neck he threw,
And mark'd how life with

rosy

hue On her pale cheek revived anew,

And glimmer'd in her eye. Inly he said, “That silken tress,What blindness mine that could not guess 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 mirror'd pool he peer'd, Blamed his rough locks and shaggy beard, The stains of recent conflict clear'd,

And thus the Champion proved, That be fears now who never fear'd,

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 shame-facedness 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 follow'd 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 christend 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 creerd—'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 scorn'd to add a note.

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"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 broukid--
Thev saw their standard fall and left their monarch bound.”

AKENSIDE

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