Round chimney fires ; they rather chose
The warmth of heated ball that glows
Red as the day-star, when he sets
In blood on Northern winter nights.
It was their law, that on the field
To less than seven one might not yield,
E'en in retreat must face the foe,
A flying back they might not show.
Lastly, this law — and harder yet,
Perhaps, than all the rest beside —
None on a maid his heart might set,
Till Charles himself should take a bride.
Though eyes of heavenly blue might shine,
Or rosy lips wear smiles divine,
However snowy breasts might heave,
Like swans rocked on the limpid wave,
Nor eye nor heart the charm must feel,
For each was married lo his steel.
Young Axel saddled glad his steed,