The wondering stranger round him gazed, And next the fallen weapon raised:--Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.

And as the brand he poised and swayed, 'I never knew but one,' he said, 'Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field.'

She sighed, then smiled and took the word:

'You see the guardian champion's sword;

As light it trembles in his hand As in my grasp a hazel wand:

My sire's tall form might grace the part Of Ferragus or Ascabart, But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old.'