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HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.
Canto II.
From distant realms I come,
And, wanderer long, at length have plann'd,
In this my native Northern land
To seek myself a home.
Nor that alone—a mate I seek;
She must be gentle, soft, and meek,—
No lordly dame for me;
Myself am something rough of mood,
And feel the fire of royal blood,
And therefore do not hold it good
To match in my degree;
Then, since coy maidens say my face
Is harsh, my form devoid of grace,
And, wanderer long, at length have plann'd,
In this my native Northern land
To seek myself a home.
Nor that alone—a mate I seek;
She must be gentle, soft, and meek,—
No lordly dame for me;
Myself am something rough of mood,
And feel the fire of royal blood,
And therefore do not hold it good
To match in my degree;
Then, since coy maidens say my face
Is harsh, my form devoid of grace,