So the loud laugh of scorn, "She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded! Should not the dove so white "Scarce had I put to sea, Among the Norsemen ! With twenty horsemen. "Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, 'Death!' was the helmsman's hail, 'Death without quarter!' Mid-ships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water! "As with his wings aslant, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower 1 The "Round Tower" at Newport, popularly supposed to have been built by the Northmen. On such another! "Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful! "Thus, seamed with many scars, My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!"2 Thus the tale ended. 1840. 140 150 160 Knickerbocker Magazine, Jan., 1841. EXCELSIOR The shades of night were falling fast, His brow was sad; his eye beneath, In happy homes he saw the light 10 Of household fires gleam warm and bright; "Try not the Pass!" the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, 2 In Scandinavia this is the customary salutation when drinking a health. I have slightly changed the orthography of the word [skaal] in in order to preserve the correct pronunciation. (Author's Note.) "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!" This was the peasant's last Good-night, At break of day, as heavenward A voice cried through the startled air, A traveller, by the faithful hound, There in the twilight cold and gray, 30 40 THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies! I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, The cries of agony, the endless groan, 10 Which, through the ages that have gone before us, In long reverberations reach our own. On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song, And loud, amid the universal clamor, O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. I hear the Florentine, who from his palace Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, And Aztec priests upon their teocallis Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin; 20 Among the long, black rafters As, sweeping and eddying through them, And, streaming into the moonlight, And like those waters rushing Among the wooden piers, A flood of thoughts came o'er me How often, oh how often, In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky! How often, oh how often, I had wished that the ebbing tide For my heart was hot and restless, But now it has fallen from me, It is buried in the sea; And only the sorrow of others Yet whenever I cross the river On its bridge with wooden piers, Like the odor of brine from the ocean Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands I see the long procession Still passing to and fro, The young heart hot and restless, And forever and forever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions, As long as life has woes; 20 30 40 50 Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, In that mansion used to be His great fires up the chimney roared; But, like the skeleton at the feast, There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; O precious hours! O golden prime. "Forever-never! Never-forever!" 40 |