My daughter dear will I then accord
As consort to him for aye.
“But if he refuse to cede the glaive,
(The birds on the trees sing sweet)
The hardest rock that repels the wave
He might just as well entreat.”
With this answer the swain rode homeward bound,
(On the flow’rets the dew-drops shine)
And returning, shorter the road he found
Than in coming, ye may divine.