To Ealhild in the Meadhall
Golden Hall by Joan Wyatt
TO EALHILD IN THE MEADHALL
The love of Ealhild for long I've hunted
Trying to melt a mansbane heart
That locks men out and leaves them cold
And makes blue my tortured bollocks.
Though hard of heart, in hopefulness
Sayeth the scop, handsome Seaxa:
"Her eyes are gems most opulent,
Her hair bright gold that won his heart.
Her rear stirs up a roaring flame,
But omitted Seaxa her most matchless trait:
The abundance of her blesséd bosom.