CLAUD HALCRO.

Mother doubtful, Mother dread,
Dweller of the Fitful-head,
Well thou know'st it is thy task
To tell what Beauty will not ask;
Then steep thy words in wine and
milk,

And weave a doom of gold and silk,For we would know, shall Brenda prove

In love, and happy in her love?

NORNA.

SONG OF THE SHETLAND
FISHERS.

FAREWELL, merry maidens, to song, and to laugh,

For the brave lads of Westra are bound to the Haaf;

And we must have labour, and hunger, and pain,

Ere we dance with the maids of Dunrossness again.

For now, in our trim boats of Noroway deal,

the porpoise and seal;

The breeze it shall pipe, so it pipe not

too high,

And the gull be our songstress whene'er she flits by.

Sing on, my brave bird, while we follow, like thee,

By bank, shoal, and quicksand, the

swarms of the sea;

And when twenty-score fishes are straining our line,

Sing louder, brave bird, for their spoils shall be thine.

We'll sing while we bait, and we'll sing while we haul

For the deeps of the Haaf have enough for us all :

There is torsk for the gentle, and skate for the carle,

And there's wealth for bold Magnus, the son of the earl.

Huzza! my brave comrades, give way for the Haaf,

We shall sooner come back to the dance and the laugh; For light without mirth is a lamp without oil;

Then, mirth and long life to the bold Magnus Troil!

Chap. XXII.

CLEVELAND sings:

LOVE wakes and weeps
While Beauty sleeps!

O for Music's softest numbers,
To prompt a theme,
For Beauty's dream,
Soft as the pillow of her slumbers!

Through groves of palm
Sigh gales of balm,
Fire-flies on the air are wheeling;
While through the gloom
Comes soft perfume,

The distant beds of flowers revealing.

O wake and live!

No dream can give

A shadow'd bliss, the real excelling;
No longer sleep,
From lattice peep,

And list the tale that Love is telling.

CLAUD HALCRO sings or recites: AND you shall deal the funeral dole; Ay, deal it, mother mine, To weary body, and to heavy soul, The white bread and the wine.

And you shall deal my horses of pride;

Ay, deal them, mother mine;
And you shall deal my lands so wide,
And deal my castles nine.

But deal not vengeance for the deed,
And deal not for the crime;
The body to its place, and the soul to
Heaven's grace,

And the rest in God's own time.

SAINT Magnus control thee, that martyr of treason;

Saint Ronan rebuke thee, with rhyme and with reason;

By the mass of Saint Martin, the might of Saint Mary,

hear

Has left its last soft tone with you; Its next must join the seaward cheer, And shout among the shoutingcrew.

worse if thou tarry! Ifofgood, go hence and hallow thee;— If of ill, let the earth swallow thee;If thou 'rt of air, let the grey mist fold thee;

check,

Must give the word, above the storm, To cut the mast, and clear the wreck.

The timid eye I dared not raise,

The hand, that shook when press'd to thine,

Must point the guns upon the chase!

Must bid the deadly cutlass shine.

To all I love, or hope, or fear,

Honour, or own, a long adieu! To all that life has soft and dear,

Farewell! save memory of you!

thee;

If a Pixie, seek thy ring;--
If a Nixie, seek thy spring;-
If on middle earth thou 'st been
Slave of sorrow, shame, and sin,
Hast eat the bread of toil and strife,
And dree'd the lot which men call life;
Begone to thy stone! for thy coffin is

scant of thee,

The worm, thy play-fellow, wails for the want of thee:

Hence, houseless ghost! let the earth hide thee,

Till Michael shall blow the blast, see that there thou bide thee!

for a token,

Hence pass till Hallowmass-my spell is spoken.

WHERE Corpse-light
Dances bright,
Be it by day or night,
Be it by light or dark,

There shall corpse lie stiff and stark.

MENSEFUL maiden ne'er should rise,
Till the first beam tinge the skies;

Silk-fringed eyelids still should close,
Till the sun has kiss'd the rose;
Maiden's foot we should not view,
Mark'd with tiny print on dew,
Till the opening flowerets spread
Carpet meet for beauty's tread.
Chap. XXIII.

NORNA sings or recites :CHAMPION, famed for warlike toil, Art thou silent, Ribolt Troil? Sand, and dust, and pebbly stones, Are leaving bare thy giant bones. Who dared touch the wild bear's skin Ye slumber'd on, while life was in? A woman now, or babe, may come And cast the covering from thy tomb. Yet be not wrathful, Chief, nor blight Mine eyes or ears with sound or sight! I come not, with unhallow'd tread, To wake the slumbers of the dead, Or lay thy giant reliques bare;

But what I seek thou well canst spare. Be it to my hand allow'd

Never, while thou wert in life,
Lay'st thou still for sloth or fear,
When point and edge were glittering

near;

See, the cerements now I sever-
Waken now, or sleep for ever!
Thou wilt not wake-the deed is done!
The prize I sought is fairly won.
Thanks, Ribolt, thanks; for this the

sea

Shall smooth its ruffled crest for thee, And while afar its billows foam, Thanks, Ribolt, thanks; for this the Subside to peace near Ribolt's tomb.

might

Of wild winds raging at their height,
When to thy place of slumber nigh,
Shall soften to a lullaby.

She, the dame of doubt and dread,
Norna of the Fitful-head,
Mighty in her own despite,
Miserable in her might,
In despair and frenzy great,
In her greatness desolate,
Wisest, wickedest who lives,-
Well can keep the word she gives.
Chap. xxv.

NORNA recites:

THOU, so needful, yet so dread,
With cloudy crest, and wing of red;
Thou, without whose genial breath
The North would sleep the sleep of
death;

Who deign'st to warm the cottage hearth,

Yet hurls proud palaces to earth,—

shroud;

Yet leave thee sheeted lead enough

To shield thy bones from weather rough.

Which form and rule this world of

ours,

With my rhyme of Runic, I

Thank thee for thy agency.

O'er the shelves canst drive the navy,

Didst thou chafe as one neglected,

While thy brethren were respected?
To appease thee, see, I tear
This full grasp of grizzled hair;
Oft thy breath hath through it sung,
Softening to my magic tongue;
Now, 'tis thine to bid it fly
Through the wide expanse of sky,
'Mid the countless swarms to sail
Of wild-fowl wheeling on thy gale;
Take thy portion and rejoice,-
Spirit, thou hast heard my voice!

She who sits by haunted well, Is subject to the Nixie's spell;

look, and sign;

Speak on with thy riddle-to read it

be mine.

NORNA.

Mark me! for the word I speak
Shall bring the colour to thy cheek.
This leaden heart, so light of cost,
The symbol of a treasure lost,
Thou shalt wear in hope and in peace,
That the cause of thy sickness and
sorrow may cease,
When crimson foot meets crimson
hand

In the Martyr's Aisle, and in Orkney land.

token,

That not without warrant old Norna

hath spoken;

But thy nearest and dearest must never behold them,

Till time shall accomplish the truths! I have told them.

Chap. XXVIII.

THE PEDLAR sings his wares :

Poor sinners whom the snake deceives,
Are fain to cover them with leaves.
Zetland hath no leaves, 'tis true,
Because that trees are none, or few;
But we have flax and taits of woo',
For linen cloth and wadmaal blue;
And we have many foreign knacks
Of finer waft, than woo' or flax.
Ye gallant Lambmas lads appear,
And bring your Lambmas sisters here,
Bryce Snailsfoot spares not cost or
care,

To pleasure every gentle pair.

Chap. XXXII.

MOTTOES.

'Tis not alone the scene; the man,

Anselmo,

The man finds sympathies in these

wild wastes,

And roughly tumbling seas, which

fairer views

And smoother waves deny him.

Ancient Drama.

Chap. II.

nor move,