Where Harold with the golden hair,
O'er Lochlin spreads his high commands,
And, throned on Mercy, rules the tribes
Subdued by his victorious bands,
Vast Gormal rears his head abrupt,
Enveloped by a wreath of snow,
His brow superior to the storm
That rages on his sides below;
While from his skirts the troubled streams,
White issuing, seek the downward plain,
Where the deep torrent sweeps along,
And bears the Torneo to the main.
Gray on the banks, and far from men,
Mid the dim mists a tower appears,
Which pines half sheltered from the blasts
Of dark and long forgotten years.
To this abode fierce Sigurd fled,
Oppressed by fate, and Harold's sword,
When Lula's warriors fell in blood,
Or sought the sea, and left their lord.
The ancient Chief indignant sat,
And thought to brave Misfortune's power;
Alas, vain thought! her baleful draught
Empoisoned every passing hour.
For when the days of other years
In memory moved the warrior's mind,
High beat his heart, and with his glave
He wounded Harold in the wind.
His warlike son in battle fell
Amid the wreck of Lula's throne,
Nor lived to see a father's flight—
A father's ruin, and his own.
One daughter, last of all his race,
Remained to bless her sire's decline,
Survived to cheer the cares of age,
Sole prop of Sigurd's setting line:
For still the bright-eyed Fithon's charms
Around the hero lustre threw;
White was her arm as Gormal's snow,
Her breast of as transparent hue.
Like stars emerging from the deep,
Appeared her ever radiant eyes,
Chasing the vapours of the night,
By beams of splendour from the skies.
Nor Odin did the maid forget,
For she was good as she was fair;
Her form was faultless, and her soul
Was blessed by Heaven's peculiar care.
Majestic was her stately step,
Adoring heroes shrunk in fear;
Yet in the pride of all her charms,
She met the mourner with a tear.
But transient darkness filled her mind,
She sought the Wild with hound and horn,
When the pale light on Lula's wave,
Announced the near approach of morn.
Nor all alone the Maiden went,
Two noble youths her course pursued;
The one with ardour sought her love,
Abashed with awe the other sued.
For though "beyond the solar road,"
In Lula, Love had broke the gloom,
And, like the Muse, his radiance shed,
As in the climes where myrtles bloom.
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