I go wherever fate shall please to call,--
Without God's leave, no fly to earth can fall."
It thunders--and from midnight's mirky cloud,
Comes peal on peal reverberating loud:
The froth-clad breakers cast, with sullen roar,
A Scottish bark upon the whiten'd shore.
Straight to the royal palace hasten then
A lovely maid and thirty sea-worn men.
Minona, Scotland's princess, Scotland's boast,
The storm has driven to the Danish coast.
Oft, while the train hew timber in the groves,
Minona, arm in arm, with Harrald roves.
Warm from his lip the words of passion flow;
Pure in her eyes the flames of passion glow.
One summer eve, upon a mossy bank,
Mouth join'd to mouth, and breast to breast, they sank:
The moon arose in haste to see their love,
And wild birds carroll'd from the boughs above.
But now the ship, which seem'd of late a wreck,
Floats with a mast set proudly on her deck.
Minona kisses Harrald's blooming face,
Whilst he attends her to the parting place.
His bold young heart beats high against his side--
She sail'd away--and, like one petrified,
Full long he stood upon the shore, to view
The smooth keel slipping through the waters blue.
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