So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn
Blew the foam lightly.

"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
Follow the sea-mew's flight,
Why did they leave that night
Her nest unguarded?

"Scarce had I put to sea,
Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she

Among the Norsemen !
When on the white sea-strand,
Waving his armèd hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,

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,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,
With his prey laden,—
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,

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
Built I the lofty tower, 1
Which, to this very hour,
Stands looking seaward.

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,
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars

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.

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Knickerbocker Magazine, Jan., 1841.

EXCELSIOR

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed,
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion run
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light

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Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!

"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,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,

A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!

A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!

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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;

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Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,
Rose the belated tide,

And, streaming into the moonlight,
The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing

Among the wooden piers,

A flood of thoughts came o'er me
That filled my eyes with tears.

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
Would bear me away on its bosom
O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

It is buried in the sea;

And only the sorrow of others
Throws its shadow over me.

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
Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession

Still passing to and fro,

The young heart hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,

As long as the river flows,

As long as the heart has passions, As long as life has woes;

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Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude

Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,- 30
"Forever-never!
Never-forever!"

In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;

His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;

But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased,-
"Forever-never!
Never-forever!"

There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;

O precious hours! O golden prime.
And affluence of love and time!
Even as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient timepiece told,-

"Forever-never!

Never-forever!"

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