Page:Poems - Sayers (1792).djvu/63

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But should the Fatal Sisters mark
Our chieftain's soul to grace thy halls,
Should the keen arrow pierce his side
And Harold perish in the fight,
When death shall numb his sinewy limbs,
When his bent knees shall tottering fail,
When shades of night shall gloom his eyes
And sinking nature yield,
Then may no groan of woe escape
Our hardy chieftain's fainting lips,
Then may no writhing pang distort
The dying hero's face;
Joyful to fall in fields of blood
To him may death's cold steel be welcome,
And may he laughing die.

CHORUS.

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