The shapeliest, comeliest,
Faultless in bearing—
Cheerful, cordial, and kind,
The red and white wearing,
Well looks the blue-eyed chief;
Blue, bright, and daring,
His eye o’er his red cheek shines,
Blue, bright, calmly daring.
His red cheek shines,
Like hip on the brier-tree,
’Neath the choicest of curly hair
Waving and free.
A warm hearth, a drinking cup,
Meet shall he see,
And a choice of good armour
Whoe’er visits thee.
Drinking-horns, trenchers bright,
And arms old and new;
Long, narrow-bladed swords,
Cold, clear, and blue—
These are seen in thy mansion,
With rifles and carbines, too;
And hempen-strung long-bows,
Of hard, healthy yew.
Long-bows and cross-bows,
With strings that well wear;
Arrows, with polish’d heads,
In quivers full and fair,
From the eagle’s wing feather’d,
With silk fine and rare;
And guns dear to purchase—
Long slender—are there.
My heart’s with thee, hero!
May Mary’s son keep
My stripling who loves
The lone forest to sweep;
Rejoicing to feel there
The solitude deep
Of the long moor and valley,
And rough mountain steep.
The mountain steep searching
And rough rocky chains;
The old dogs he caresses,
The young dogs he restrains:
Then, soon from my chieftain’s spear
The life-blood rains
Of the red-hided deer or doe
And the green heather stains.
Fall the red stag, the white-bellied doe;
Then stand on the heather,
Thy gentle companions,
Well arm’d altogether,
Well taught on the hunter’s craft,
Well skill’d in the weather;
They know the rough sea as well
As the green heather!