Classic Poem

Sir Guy de Warre, the fair Rowena's sire,
Of haughty Norman birth,
With pure descent,
Held Saxon, high or low, as scum of earth;
And deemed his name more worth and honour lent,
Than line directly traced from Alfred could inspire.

Dark-visaged man, his countenance repelled;
His restless eyes flashed fire;
His voice sent dread
Through every soul that felt his fearful ire.
At its fell sound both beast and children fled.
Rowena, with her mother, hid till it had quelled.

Sir Harold dared his daughter's hand to seek!
No word the fierce knight spake
But ope'd the door,
And, scowling, said--"No Saxon churl shall make
Rowena wife; and dare he woo her more,
Upon him, would Sir Guy a direful vengeance wreak."