CŒDWALLA to EDDA.
An Ancient British Love-Song.
I.
By those raven-dyed ringlets that float round thy form,
And circle that heaven thy beauties display;
By that face, like the sun-beam that peeps thro' the storm,
Our hopes to encourage, our fears to allay;
By that dove, dearest Edda, pourtrayed on thy breast;—
With one smile of assent let Cœdwalla be blest!
Druid Chiefs my suit befriend,
While the misletoe I twine,
Let the sacred flame ascend,
Say, shall Edda's charms be mine?
II.
By the speed of my coursers in hunting and war,
Whose trembling impatience for action I prize;
By the scythes on my chariot, less dangerous far,
Than the shafts dearest Edda can dart from her eyes,
By the groans of the wounded, the shades of the slain,
I beseech thee, dear Edda, to shorten my pain!
Holy Druid Chiefs, befriend,
While the misletoe I twine,
See the sacred flame ascend,
Edda must, and shall, be mine.
