And I ween that her eyes with their radiant smile
Had hope blent with love in their glowing rays.
Malvina she was that maiden fair,
King Fergus’ daughter, who sat her there.
She’s gone!—and her pulse may hardly beat,
As in silence move her trembling feet
To the dungeon where lonely her lover lies,
And wastes the night in despairing sighs,
The son of King Sewyn in battle ta’en,
The gallant Prince Harrold, the brave young Dane.