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Borrow, George Henry, 1803-1881

"Romantic Ballads, Translated from the Danish; and Miscellaneous Pieces"


"Courage!" he cried, "I will no longer stay;
Scotland shall see me, ere the break of day."
Then like a dragon in the air he soars,
Startled from slumber, in his wake it roars.
His wings across the ocean take their flight;
Groves, cities, hills, have vanish'd from his sight,--
See! there he goes, lone rider of the sky,
Miles underneath him, black the billows lie.
He hears a clapping on the midnight wind:
Speed, Harrald, speed! the raven is behind.
Flames from his swarthy-rolling eye are cast:--
"Ha! Harrald," scream'd he, "have we met at last?"
For the first time, the youth felt terror's force;
Pale grew his cheek, as that of clammy corse,
Chill was his blood, his nervous arm was faint,
While thus he stammer'd forth his lowly plaint:
"I see it is in vain to strive with fate;
Thank God, my soul is far above thy hate;
But, ere my mortal part thou dost destroy,
Let me one moment of sweet bliss enjoy:
The fair unmatch'd Minona is my love,
For her I travell'd, fool-like, here above:
Let me fly to her with my last farewell,
And I am thine, ere morning decks the fell.


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