From insolence of Norman gaze,
In pure and holy hiding.
--O royal child of South and North,
Malcolm and Margaret,
The promised bride of Heaven art thou,
And Heaven will not forget!
What recks it, if an alien King
Encoronet thy brow,
Or if the false Italian priest
Pretend to loose the vow?'

O then to white the red rose went
On Edith's cheek abiding!
With even glance she answer'd meek
'I leave the life I did not seek,
In holy Church confiding':--
Then Love smiled true on Henry's face,
And Anselm join'd the hands
That in one race two races bound
By everlasting bands.
So Love is Lord, and Alfred's blood
Returns the land to sway;
And all her joyous maidens join
In their soft roundelay:

--For though the knight may fail in fight,
The red rust edge the sword,
The king his crown in dust lay down,
Yet Love is always Lord!