Page:Harold the Dauntless - Scott (1817).djvu/26
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HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.
Canto I.
He abjured the gods of heathen race,
And he bent his head at the font of grace;
But such was the griesly old proselyte's look,
That the priest who baptized him grew pale and shook;
And the old monks mutter'd beneath their hood,
'Of a stem so stubborn can never spring good!"
And he bent his head at the font of grace;
But such was the griesly old proselyte's look,
That the priest who baptized him grew pale and shook;
And the old monks mutter'd beneath their hood,
'Of a stem so stubborn can never spring good!"
VII.
Up then arose that grim convertite,
Homeward he hied him when ended the rite;
The prelate in honour will with him ride,
And feast in his castle on Tyne's fair side.
Banners and banderols danced in the wind,
Monks rode before them, and spearmen behind;
Up then arose that grim convertite,
Homeward he hied him when ended the rite;
The prelate in honour will with him ride,
And feast in his castle on Tyne's fair side.
Banners and banderols danced in the wind,
Monks rode before them, and spearmen behind;