Something heard I like the stranding Of a shattered wreck."
Einar then, the arrow taking
From the loosened string,
Answered, "That was Norway breaking From thy hand, O King!”
"Thou art but a poor diviner," Straightway Olaf said; "Take my bow, and swifter, Einar, Let thy shafts be sped." Of his bows the fairest choosing, Reached he from above; Einar saw the blood-drops oozing Through his iron glove.
But the bow was thin and narrow; At the first assay,
O'er its head he drew the arrow, Flung the bow away;
Said, with hot and angry temper Flushing in his cheek, "Olaf! for so great a Kämper Are thy bows too weak!"
Then, with smile of joy defiant On his beardless lip, Scaled he, light and self-reliant, Eric's dragon-ship.
Loose his golden locks were flowing, Bright his armor gleamed;
Like Saint Michael overthrowing Lucifer he seemed.
KING OLAF'S DEATH-DRINK.
ALL day has the battle raged, All day have the ships engaged, But not yet is assuaged
The vengeance of Eric the Earl.
The decks with blood are red, The arrows of death are sped, The ships are filled with the dead, And the spears the champions hurl.
They drift as wrecks on the tide, The grappling-irons are plied, The boarders climb up the side, The shouts are feeble and few.
Ah! never shall Norway again See her sailors come back o'er the main; They all lie wounded or slain,
Or asleep in the billows blue!
On the deck stands Olaf the King, Around him whistle and sing The spears that the foemen fling,
And the stones they hurl with their hands.
In the midst of the stones and the spears, Kolbiorn, the marshal, appears,
His shield in the air he
By the side of King Olaf he stands.
Over the slippery wreck
Of the Long Serpent's deck
Sweeps Eric with hardly a check,
His lips with anger are pale;
He hews with his axe at the mast, Till it falls, with the sails overcast, Like a snow-covered pine in the vast Dim forests of Orkadale.
Seeking King Olaf then, He rushes aft with his men, As a hunter into the den
Of the bear, when he stands at bay.
"Remember Jarl Hakon!" he cries; When lo! on his wondering eyes, Two kingly figures arise,
Two Olafs in warlike array!
Then Kolbiorn speaks in the ear Of King Olaf a word of cheer, In a whisper that none may hear, With a smile on his tremulous lip;
Two shields raised high in the air, Two flashes of golden hair,
Two scarlet meteors' glare,
And both have leaped from the ship.
Earl Eric's men in the boats Seize Kolbiorn's shield as it floats, And cry, from their hairy throats, "See! it is Olaf the King!”
While far on the opposite side Floats another shield on the tide, Like a jewel set in the wide Sea-current's eddying ring.
There is told a wonderful tale, How the King stripped off his mail, Like leaves of the brown sea-kale,
As he swam beneath the main;
But the young grew old and gray, And never, by night or by day, In his kingdom of Norroway Was King Olaf seen again!
THE NUN OF NIDAROS.
In the convent of Drontheim, Alone in her chamber Knelt Astrid the Abbess, At midnight, adoring, Beseeching, entreating The Virgin and Mother.
She heard in the silence The voice of one speaking, Without in the darkness, In gusts of the night-wind, Now louder, now nearer, Now lost in the distance.
The voice of a stranger It seemed, as she listened, Of some one who answered, Beseeching, imploring, A cry from afar off
She could not distinguish.
The voice of Saint John, The beloved disciple,
Who wandered and waited The Master's appearance, Alone in the darkness, Unsheltered and friendless.
"It is accepted, The angry defiance,
The challenge of battle! It is accepted,
But not with the weapons Of war that thou wieldest!
"Cross against corselet, Love against hatred, Peace-cry for war-cry! Patience is powerful; He that o'ercometh Hath power o'er the nations!
"As torrents in summer, Half dried in their channels, Suddenly rise, though the Sky is still cloudless, For rain has been falling Far off at their fountains;
"So hearts that are fainting Grow full to o'erflowing, And they that behold it Marvel, and know not
That God at their fountains Far off has been raining!
"Stronger than steel
Is the sword of the Spirit; Swifter than arrows The light of the truth is, Greater than anger Is love, and subdueth!
"Thou art a phantom, A shape of the sea-mist, A shape of the brumal Rain, and the darkness Fearful and formless; Day dawns and thou art not!
« AnteriorContinuar » |