Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

162
And bade young Harald die ; —
They sang the war-deeds of his sires,
And pointed to their tomb ;
They told him that this glory-flag
Was his by right of doom,
Since then, where hath young Harald been,
But where Jarl's son should be —
'Mid war and waves— the combat keen
That raged on land or sea ! "
So sings the fierce Harald, the thirster for glory,
As his hand bears aloft the dark death -laden banner.
" Mine own death's in this clenched hand !
I know the noble trust ;
These limbs must rot on yonder strand —
These lips must lick its dust.
But shall this dusky standard quail
In the red slaughter day,
Or shall this heart its purpose fail —
This arm forget to slay '?
I tramj)le down such idle doubt ;
Harald's high blood hath sprung
From sires whoso hands in martial bout
Have ne'er belied their tongue ;
Nor keener from their castled rock
Rush eagles on their prey,
Than, panting for the battle-shock.
Young Harald leads the way."
It is thus that tall Harald, in terrible beauty.
Pours forth his big soul to the joyance of heroes.
' ' The ship-borne warriors of the North,
. The sons of Woden's race
To battle as to feast go forth.
With stern, and changeless face ;
And I, the last of a great line —