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Scourge and spoiler of the maid?
Come with me, my trusty blade;
Brightest shingle of my roof,
As the rock thou art rust proof!
In the turmoil of the fight,
Beauteous omen of delight
To the ravens—from thy blade
Shrink Deira’s hosts dismayed;
Double-lip’d, and beaked with ire,
Like the lightning’s edge of fire!
In thy hollow sheath repose,
My defender from my foes.
Whereso’er thy master’s hand
Plunges with thee, brilliant brand,
Despot of the battle ground!
Thou a path for him hast found.
Should some foes in secret dwell
In the forest citadel,
Thou shalt flame, impetuous steel,
Wildly as the mimic wheel,
Which the nurse, from brand on blaze,
Whirls before her infant’s gaze.
Should the foeman cross my path,
E’en Cyhelyn’s shield would fail
To protect the foe from scath;
Should my sword his life assail,
Thou shalt save me, rapier good,
From the hornets of the wood.
Many a long, long holiday,
Through the woodlands I will stray;
In the forests will rejoice,
With the lady of my choice;