Works of the Hon. and Very Rev. William Herbert ... Excepting those on botany and natural history. With additions and corrections by the author |
 | I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | CANTO IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
|
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| II. |
| III. |
| I. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | Works of the Hon. and Very Rev. William Herbert |  |
63
CANTO IV.
O'er hill and vale, and woody dell,
From Thylemark to Dovre-fell,
From Kiölen's ridge to either sea,
To Bothnian Gulf and Helsingé,
Like one vast robe of glittering white
The deep snow strikes the dazzled sight.
The reindeer fleet as rushing wind
Scuds by, and leaves no trace behind;
The gorgeous elk so tall and strong
Prints it not, as he bounds along:
And he, who journeying o'er the brow
Of those huge mountains looks below,
(Like some keen falcon towering high)
Beneath him sees wild regions lie,
Strange waste of thicket, comb, and dell,
Bound by the frost's prevailing spell;
Save that, where woods on woods arise,
The gloomy pine its power defies,
And seems to stretch a rival reign
O'er the dread forest's drear domain.
There thousand famish'd wolves repair;
There slumbering lies the shaggy bear,
Who oft, when summer's dewy night
Smiles with the moon's reflected light,
Sly issues from his secret den
To cultured close in narrow glen,
To crop unseen the verdant ear,
Rifling the promise of the year.
Him shall the lurking boor await,
And wing the midnight shaft of fate:
But now he sleeps in hollow tree
Amid that gloomy scenery;
Where wood-crown'd rocks that frown around
Some huge expanse of waters bound,
Inlet of sea, or mountain lake
Whose ice-bound waves strange music make,
As through some rude defile they pour,
And, thundering, down the passage roar.
Through such rude scenes Hialmar went,
Upon his trackless journey bent.
On toil'd he northward many a day,
And wilder wastes before him lay.
For need reserved the scanty store
Which in his leathern scrip he bore,
His only drink was mountain snow,
His food the berries hid below.
And now nor gloomy pines appear,
Nor vestige aught of foliage sere;
But, every sign of life effaced,
Stern frost usurps the barren waste;
Interminable winter's reign
Has bound it with an icy chain,
And rocks on rocks high-towering rear
Their foreheads, frozen all the year;
Nor frozen rocks alone; behold,
In regions of eternal cold,
Of mingled snow and dust and sand
The mimic architecture stand!
Above the crags that darkest lower,
Above the rocks that highest tower,
Points inaccessible arise,
And mock with varied hue the eyes.
Now like grey minarets they seem,
Now sparkling with the changeful gleam,
Now redder than a shaft of fire,
Ere the last beams of day expire.
From Thylemark to Dovre-fell,
From Kiölen's ridge to either sea,
To Bothnian Gulf and Helsingé,
Like one vast robe of glittering white
The deep snow strikes the dazzled sight.
The reindeer fleet as rushing wind
Scuds by, and leaves no trace behind;
The gorgeous elk so tall and strong
Prints it not, as he bounds along:
And he, who journeying o'er the brow
Of those huge mountains looks below,
(Like some keen falcon towering high)
Beneath him sees wild regions lie,
Strange waste of thicket, comb, and dell,
Bound by the frost's prevailing spell;
Save that, where woods on woods arise,
The gloomy pine its power defies,
And seems to stretch a rival reign
O'er the dread forest's drear domain.
There thousand famish'd wolves repair;
There slumbering lies the shaggy bear,
Who oft, when summer's dewy night
Smiles with the moon's reflected light,
Sly issues from his secret den
To cultured close in narrow glen,
To crop unseen the verdant ear,
Rifling the promise of the year.
64
And wing the midnight shaft of fate:
But now he sleeps in hollow tree
Amid that gloomy scenery;
Where wood-crown'd rocks that frown around
Some huge expanse of waters bound,
Inlet of sea, or mountain lake
Whose ice-bound waves strange music make,
As through some rude defile they pour,
And, thundering, down the passage roar.
Through such rude scenes Hialmar went,
Upon his trackless journey bent.
On toil'd he northward many a day,
And wilder wastes before him lay.
For need reserved the scanty store
Which in his leathern scrip he bore,
His only drink was mountain snow,
His food the berries hid below.
And now nor gloomy pines appear,
Nor vestige aught of foliage sere;
But, every sign of life effaced,
Stern frost usurps the barren waste;
Interminable winter's reign
Has bound it with an icy chain,
And rocks on rocks high-towering rear
Their foreheads, frozen all the year;
Nor frozen rocks alone; behold,
In regions of eternal cold,
Of mingled snow and dust and sand
The mimic architecture stand!
Above the crags that darkest lower,
Above the rocks that highest tower,
65
And mock with varied hue the eyes.
Now like grey minarets they seem,
Now sparkling with the changeful gleam,
Now redder than a shaft of fire,
Ere the last beams of day expire.
Through the rough fell's romantic pile
Hialmar spied a deep defile.
It was a desert glen to view,
As fancy's pencil ever drew.
No bush was nigh; no shady trees
Spread their green honors to the breeze;
No flower, no verdant grass might hope
To spring upon the barren slope;
Not e'en the hardy ling might dare
To peep mid rocks so wild and bare:
Scarce the dank moss and lichen grey
Could spread around their dismal sway.
Abruptly on the eastern side
Frown'd the huge steep in awful pride,
Like one vast wall; the summit hoar
With threatening fragments beetled o'er:
And many a hideous mass beneath
Time-sever'd from that crumbling wreath,
In the deep bosom of the dell
Might yet of ancient ruin tell.
High was the crag, and yet the land
Swell'd loftier on the other hand.
The ridge, that hid the western day,
Rose gradual, strewn with fragments grey;
And he, who look'd along the glen
Untrodden by the foot of men,
Might think he view'd a countless flock
Feeding beneath the barren rock.
But all is still; not e'en the deer
Have ever sought to harbour here.
The hollow mountain's hoary side
By mortal step was never tried;
Those are but scatter'd stones, that lie
Whitening beneath the inclement sky.
Above the hollow the proud fell
Rises more steeply from the dell;
Larger and ruder frowns each stone,
Its sides with lichen less o'ergrown;
And, where the highest summit towers,
Naked the rocky castle lowers.
The ridge's bold uneven sweep
Here sinking gives a vista deep
Of the blue heaven; now shooting high
Its giddy beacon strains the eye;
And, though in ruin, seems to stand
As if uprear'd by skilfulh and,
Stone upon stone piled wonderously,
With buttress, arch, and turrets high:
Self-poised the top-stone seems to rock;
But ages still have seen it mock
The winter's storm, the thunder's shock.
A broken path the steep behind
Midway seem'd indistinct to wind,
If path that be, which never knew
The tread of aught but the Elfish crew.
The track, I deem, if mortal wight
Could climb unto the dizzy height,
Would lead him where the slippery brow
Shelves o'er the sea, that far below
Dashes unheard its sullen waves
Beneath the cliff's o'erhanging caves.
Hialmar spied a deep defile.
It was a desert glen to view,
As fancy's pencil ever drew.
No bush was nigh; no shady trees
Spread their green honors to the breeze;
No flower, no verdant grass might hope
To spring upon the barren slope;
Not e'en the hardy ling might dare
To peep mid rocks so wild and bare:
Since Helga was sent to the press, I have seen my friend Mr. Walter Scott's Lord of the Isles, which has been lately published; and I have observed some similarity of expression in his description of the wild rocks in the isle of Skye, which is entirely accidental. The description of the rocky scenery in the fourth Canto of Helga was written five years ago, and not a single word has been altered in it since that time.
Scarce the dank moss and lichen grey
Could spread around their dismal sway.
Abruptly on the eastern side
Frown'd the huge steep in awful pride,
Like one vast wall; the summit hoar
With threatening fragments beetled o'er:
And many a hideous mass beneath
Time-sever'd from that crumbling wreath,
In the deep bosom of the dell
Might yet of ancient ruin tell.
High was the crag, and yet the land
Swell'd loftier on the other hand.
The ridge, that hid the western day,
Rose gradual, strewn with fragments grey;
And he, who look'd along the glen
Untrodden by the foot of men,
66
Feeding beneath the barren rock.
But all is still; not e'en the deer
Have ever sought to harbour here.
The hollow mountain's hoary side
By mortal step was never tried;
Those are but scatter'd stones, that lie
Whitening beneath the inclement sky.
Above the hollow the proud fell
Rises more steeply from the dell;
Larger and ruder frowns each stone,
Its sides with lichen less o'ergrown;
And, where the highest summit towers,
Naked the rocky castle lowers.
The ridge's bold uneven sweep
Here sinking gives a vista deep
Of the blue heaven; now shooting high
Its giddy beacon strains the eye;
And, though in ruin, seems to stand
As if uprear'd by skilfulh and,
Stone upon stone piled wonderously,
With buttress, arch, and turrets high:
Self-poised the top-stone seems to rock;
But ages still have seen it mock
The winter's storm, the thunder's shock.
A broken path the steep behind
Midway seem'd indistinct to wind,
If path that be, which never knew
The tread of aught but the Elfish crew.
The track, I deem, if mortal wight
Could climb unto the dizzy height,
67
Shelves o'er the sea, that far below
Dashes unheard its sullen waves
Beneath the cliff's o'erhanging caves.
The warrior gazed with growing wonder,
He deem'd some fiendish Power from under
Had push'd the solid heights asunder;
For well he mark'd the layers grey
Rise on each side in like array.
When sudden as from under ground
Stole on his ear a dulcet sound;
It seem'd a strain of sweetest tone
Warbled by female voice unknown.
The wondering chieftain gazed, and spied
A fissure in the mountain's side:
And listening close he seem'd to hear
Hammer and anvil sounding near;
And long and loud each heavy stroke
Resounded of that Pigmy folk,
That ever in the darksome cave
Forge the bright metal for the brave.
Of stature small, but mighty force,
Of cunning skill and deep resource,
They know each metal's secret birth,
And delve the bowels of the earth,
Tearing from every hidden cell
The treasures in its womb that dwell.
A spiteful race on mischief bent,
To whom man's wo is merriment;
Deaf to his prayer, and only made
By strong control to lend their aid.
The sounding forge Hialmar knew,
And forth his flaming falchion drew;
Then, sinking on his knee, raised high
To heaven his bright adoring eye;
And, as he pour'd the heartfelt vow,
Proud rapture lit his beauteous brow,
Triumphant love, unshaken truth,
And joy, and hope, and glowing youth.
He deem'd some fiendish Power from under
Had push'd the solid heights asunder;
For well he mark'd the layers grey
Rise on each side in like array.
When sudden as from under ground
Stole on his ear a dulcet sound;
It seem'd a strain of sweetest tone
Warbled by female voice unknown.
The wondering chieftain gazed, and spied
A fissure in the mountain's side:
And listening close he seem'd to hear
Hammer and anvil sounding near;
And long and loud each heavy stroke
Resounded of that Pigmy folk,
That ever in the darksome cave
Forge the bright metal for the brave.
Of stature small, but mighty force,
Of cunning skill and deep resource,
They know each metal's secret birth,
And delve the bowels of the earth,
Tearing from every hidden cell
The treasures in its womb that dwell.
A spiteful race on mischief bent,
To whom man's wo is merriment;
Deaf to his prayer, and only made
By strong control to lend their aid.
68
And forth his flaming falchion drew;
Then, sinking on his knee, raised high
To heaven his bright adoring eye;
And, as he pour'd the heartfelt vow,
Proud rapture lit his beauteous brow,
Triumphant love, unshaken truth,
And joy, and hope, and glowing youth.
“Bend, Odin, bend from heaven thine ear!
“And, God of war, a warrior hear!
“Beneath a humble cottage born
“I learn'd ignoble ease to scorn;
“To wield the sword, the dart to throw;
“To bend the Dalecarlian bow,
“And where the snow-clad uplands rise,
“By prowess win each sylvan prize.
“An infant by my sire enured
“To early toils, by toils matured,
“I learn'd beneath his lone abode
“Thy lofty song, the warrior's code.
“When forth he sent me to the strife,
“He ask'd not for me length of life;
“‘Renown and glory be his share,’
“He said.—Great Odin grant his prayer!
“Give me to win Angantyr's bane,
“To triumph o'er that haughty Dane!
“And let my limbs victorious rest
“On Helga's bosom fondly prest!
“Grant this, and Fate ordain the rest!”
“And, God of war, a warrior hear!
“Beneath a humble cottage born
A very old Scandinavian poem, called Hamavál, or the High Song of Odin. It forms a part of the unprinted Edda, of which there is a manuscript in the British Museum. It is supposed to be spoken by Odin, and many persons have believed that it was actually written by him. It begins in this manner:
1.
Before thou goest forth, thou shalt look round every way;
Thou shalt examine:
For no man should be careless, while his foes
Lie in ambush for him.
Thou shalt examine:
For no man should be careless, while his foes
Lie in ambush for him.
2.
Hail to those who give! A guest is come in!
Where shall he find a seat?
Greatly he hastens, who wishes by the fire
To recruit his strength again.
Where shall he find a seat?
Greatly he hastens, who wishes by the fire
To recruit his strength again.
And further on it proceeds thus:
Silent and highminded shall a king's son
And valiant be:
Gracious and gentle shall an honourable man
Continue until his death.
And valiant be:
Gracious and gentle shall an honourable man
Continue until his death.
An unwise man thinks to live for ever,
If he keeps himself from warfare:
But old age to him grants not peace,
Although the spear may spare him.
If he keeps himself from warfare:
But old age to him grants not peace,
Although the spear may spare him.
And in a later part:
In the blast shall man fell trees;
In a calm on ocean row;
In the darkness talk with maids,
Many are the eyes of day.
In a calm on ocean row;
In the darkness talk with maids,
Many are the eyes of day.
With boats are fish taken; shields are for defence;
Swords to strike with, maids to kiss.
Fair shall he speak, and fair shall he give,
Who seeks a maiden's love to gain;
Praise the beautiful girl's white form;
Rich in words is he who woos.
Swords to strike with, maids to kiss.
Fair shall he speak, and fair shall he give,
Who seeks a maiden's love to gain;
Praise the beautiful girl's white form;
Rich in words is he who woos.
No one shall grant love to another,
For beauty's sake alone.
Oft on fools is seen that which the wise lack,
A lovely delicate complexion.
For beauty's sake alone.
Oft on fools is seen that which the wise lack,
A lovely delicate complexion.
I found a pure maid on her bed reclining,
Bright as the beaming sun;
And nothing better then seem'd to me
Than to dwell near such a form.
Bright as the beaming sun;
And nothing better then seem'd to me
Than to dwell near such a form.
Late in the evening shalt thou come in,
If thou wilt speak with a maiden;
It is evil and unlucky if more than two know
What ye have together.
If thou wilt speak with a maiden;
It is evil and unlucky if more than two know
What ye have together.
I went forth and thought,
That I had all her consent;
I truly believed that I entirely possessed
All her taste and fondness.
That I had all her consent;
I truly believed that I entirely possessed
All her taste and fondness.
I came again, and immediately all
As if prepared for strife were awakened:
With shining torches and burning lights
My wild way was beset.
As if prepared for strife were awakened:
With shining torches and burning lights
My wild way was beset.
And in the morning when I came in
There lay all asleep;
I found there a hound instead of a beautiful maid
Tucked up in the bed.
There lay all asleep;
I found there a hound instead of a beautiful maid
Tucked up in the bed.
This curious poem, which consists of a great many stanzas, is certainly of great antiquity; but it was probably attributed to Odin himself, merely because the words are supposed to be spoken by him.
“I learn'd ignoble ease to scorn;
“To wield the sword, the dart to throw;
“To bend the Dalecarlian bow,
“And where the snow-clad uplands rise,
“By prowess win each sylvan prize.
“An infant by my sire enured
“To early toils, by toils matured,
“I learn'd beneath his lone abode
“Thy lofty song, the warrior's code.
“When forth he sent me to the strife,
“He ask'd not for me length of life;
“‘Renown and glory be his share,’
“He said.—Great Odin grant his prayer!
“Give me to win Angantyr's bane,
“To triumph o'er that haughty Dane!
“And let my limbs victorious rest
“On Helga's bosom fondly prest!
“Grant this, and Fate ordain the rest!”
He spoke; and from the mountain's rent
A sudden gleam was upwards sent,
As if in token of assent;
And a loud clang was heard to sound
In the deep bowels of the ground.
“Praise to the Gods!” Hialmar cried,
And rush'd into the mountain side
Through that deep fissure; darkness dread
Closed on the warrior's dauntless head.
Silent he trod the winding cave,
Dark as the cloisters of the grave,
While, round, the dank imprison'd air
Sigh'd piteous, breathing chill despair;
Till, full display'd, a glorious light
Burst sudden on his wondering sight.
A vault immense before him lay,
Yet was the dungeon bright as day.
There high uprear'd on either hand
Compact basaltic columns stand,
Shaft above shaft, a monstrous pile,
Like that which girds fair Staffa's isle,
Or the huge mass whose giant pride
Breasts the full strength of Erin's tide.
Nor lacks there radiance to disclose
Their various shapes and magic rows.
Myriads of lights their lustre shed,
By secret exhalations fed;
And, as each alabaster lamp
Dispels the gloom and joyless damp,
The vaulted roof sends back their rays,
And stalactites and crystals blaze.
Around unnumber'd treasures lie,
Of every hue and changeful die;
The ore that gives each metal birth,
Torn from the fruitful womb of earth;
And countless gems, a brilliant heap,
And pearls and corals from the deep.
Next lie huge bars of metal sheen,
Then piles of weapons bright and keen;
And many an engine form'd for ill
By cunning workmanship and skill.
Beyond, through that long vista seen
The double row of steel between,
In a dread nook obscure and low
The distant furnace seem'd to glow.
A loathsome, wan, and meagre race,
With shaggy chin and sallow face,
Treading with steps demure and slow,
The Pigmy folk moved to and fro.
Some on their sturdy shoulders bore
The weight of rude unsmelted ore;
Some from huge stores of various hue
The ponderous bars of metal drew;
Near the hot furnace others staid,
And laboring smote the glowing blade;
Or, tempering the sharp steel, unheard
Mutter'd the powerful magic word.
In the full centre of the hall
Stood a dark statue, huge and tall;
Its form colossal, seen from far,
Show'd like the thunderous God of war,
The sinews strain'd for deadly strife,
The strong limbs starting into life.
Its left hand grasp'd an iron shield,
Its right was raised a sword to wield;
On the pure blade were written plain
These fatal words, “Angantyr's bane.”
Hialmar's eyes shone bright as fire,
Their keen glance spoke his soul's desire.
“Art thou,” he cried, “the thundering Thor,
“First of the Gods in strife and war?
“Or does thy marrowless strength in vain
“Those iron muscles seem to strain
“In threatening mockery, form'd to scare
“The coward from the Pigmies' lair?
“Whate'er thou art, Hialmar's hand
“Must tear from thine that flaming brand.”
A sudden gleam was upwards sent,
As if in token of assent;
69
In the deep bowels of the ground.
“Praise to the Gods!” Hialmar cried,
And rush'd into the mountain side
Through that deep fissure; darkness dread
Closed on the warrior's dauntless head.
Silent he trod the winding cave,
Dark as the cloisters of the grave,
While, round, the dank imprison'd air
Sigh'd piteous, breathing chill despair;
Till, full display'd, a glorious light
Burst sudden on his wondering sight.
A vault immense before him lay,
Yet was the dungeon bright as day.
There high uprear'd on either hand
Compact basaltic columns stand,
Shaft above shaft, a monstrous pile,
Like that which girds fair Staffa's isle,
Or the huge mass whose giant pride
Breasts the full strength of Erin's tide.
Nor lacks there radiance to disclose
Their various shapes and magic rows.
Myriads of lights their lustre shed,
By secret exhalations fed;
And, as each alabaster lamp
Dispels the gloom and joyless damp,
The vaulted roof sends back their rays,
And stalactites and crystals blaze.
Around unnumber'd treasures lie,
Of every hue and changeful die;
The ore that gives each metal birth,
Torn from the fruitful womb of earth;
70
And pearls and corals from the deep.
Next lie huge bars of metal sheen,
Then piles of weapons bright and keen;
And many an engine form'd for ill
By cunning workmanship and skill.
Beyond, through that long vista seen
The double row of steel between,
In a dread nook obscure and low
The distant furnace seem'd to glow.
A loathsome, wan, and meagre race,
With shaggy chin and sallow face,
Treading with steps demure and slow,
The Pigmy folk moved to and fro.
Some on their sturdy shoulders bore
The weight of rude unsmelted ore;
Some from huge stores of various hue
The ponderous bars of metal drew;
Near the hot furnace others staid,
And laboring smote the glowing blade;
Or, tempering the sharp steel, unheard
Mutter'd the powerful magic word.
In the full centre of the hall
Stood a dark statue, huge and tall;
Its form colossal, seen from far,
Show'd like the thunderous God of war,
The sinews strain'd for deadly strife,
The strong limbs starting into life.
Its left hand grasp'd an iron shield,
Its right was raised a sword to wield;
On the pure blade were written plain
These fatal words, “Angantyr's bane.”
71
Their keen glance spoke his soul's desire.
“Art thou,” he cried, “the thundering Thor,
“First of the Gods in strife and war?
“Or does thy marrowless strength in vain
“Those iron muscles seem to strain
“In threatening mockery, form'd to scare
“The coward from the Pigmies' lair?
“Whate'er thou art, Hialmar's hand
“Must tear from thine that flaming brand.”
Him answer'd straight with visage wan,
Smiling in spite, a dwarfish man.
Smiling in spite, a dwarfish man.
“Go, boaster, seize the shining prize!
“But know, who wins that falchion, dies!
“Sage Dualin wrought the precious blade,
“Its edge on charmed anvil laid;
“And, as each stroke portentous rung,
“The magic strain old Durin sung,
“And Thorin and Nyrader wise
“Swell'd the fell chorus to the skies.
“They placed it in yon iron hand,
“And whisper'd low their dread command:
“No arm that ever shook with fear
“Shall wrest it from that grasp severe;
“And if by valor's dauntless son
“The fatal sword should e'er be won,
“For him the tomb will early yawn,
“And grief obscure hope's flattering dawn.”
“But know, who wins that falchion, dies!
“Sage Dualin wrought the precious blade,
“Its edge on charmed anvil laid;
“And, as each stroke portentous rung,
“The magic strain old Durin sung,
“And Thorin and Nyrader wise
“Swell'd the fell chorus to the skies.
“They placed it in yon iron hand,
“And whisper'd low their dread command:
“No arm that ever shook with fear
“Shall wrest it from that grasp severe;
“And if by valor's dauntless son
“The fatal sword should e'er be won,
“For him the tomb will early yawn,
“And grief obscure hope's flattering dawn.”
The Pigmy ceased, and on his brow
Triumphant malice seem'd to glow;
But prouder wax'd the youth's desire,
And thus he wing'd his words of fire.
Triumphant malice seem'd to glow;
But prouder wax'd the youth's desire,
And thus he wing'd his words of fire.
72
“To others preach of death and sorrow!
“I heed not what may fall to-morrow!
“Glory and bright renown be mine,
“And let my deeds, while living, shine!
“O! why should man, whose hours must tend
“To death, their necessary end,
“Unknown in torpid ease remain,
“And feed life's feeble flame in vain!
“Nor rather strive by worth to share
“High valor's guerdon great and rare!
“To gleam, like some famed meteor's blaze,
“The theme of wonder and of praise,
“Long chronicled in after times,
“And sung by bards in distant climes!”
“I heed not what may fall to-morrow!
“Glory and bright renown be mine,
“And let my deeds, while living, shine!
“O! why should man, whose hours must tend
“To death, their necessary end,
“Unknown in torpid ease remain,
“And feed life's feeble flame in vain!
“Nor rather strive by worth to share
“High valor's guerdon great and rare!
“To gleam, like some famed meteor's blaze,
“The theme of wonder and of praise,
“Long chronicled in after times,
“And sung by bards in distant climes!”
He said, and with undaunted breast
To the high trial swiftly press'd:
And (for he knew that Pigmy spite
Forged many a snare with cunning sleight,
And wisely deem'd that iron hand
Might wield with power the charmed brand)
He raised his buckler for defence,
And, as 'gainst living strength and sense,
Strode to the combat; closing then,
That falchion, bane of stoutest men,
By its rich-studded hilt he seized,
And the cold iron fingers squeezed.
He pull'd, and stoop'd, and writhing strove
By strength that sturdy grasp to move;
And every nerve and sinew strain'd,
Till force at length the weapon gain'd.
Then back the hand of iron sprang,
And through the vault loud echoes rang;
For it had struck with might the shield
Which in its left that statue held:
And, sudden as the blow, were all
The lights extinguish'd in the hall;
And through the gloom no twinkling show'd,
Save where the distant furnace glow'd.
To gain the narrow winding cave,
The path which ready entrance gave,
Recover'd from his first surprise,
His treasure won, the warrior tries.
Easy the way for mortal wight
To plunge into those vaults of night,
But hard again from such abyss
To reach the realms of light and bliss.
The youth long labor'd to explore
In each dark nook the hidden door,
And every crevice vainly tried
In the huge cavern's massive side.
When sudden on his listening ear
Swell'd the sweet notes of music near.
He knew the same soft-warbled sound,
Which he had heard from under ground.
He spoke, but no response was given,
Save echoes through the long vault driven.
The voice melodious seem'd to fly,
And each soft note in distance die.
But, hoping thus with eager mind
Some issue from the gloom to find,
Through many a winding cavern he
Follow'd the floating symphony,
Till beams of sparkling light appear'd,
And plain the warbling voice was heard.
To the high trial swiftly press'd:
And (for he knew that Pigmy spite
Forged many a snare with cunning sleight,
And wisely deem'd that iron hand
Might wield with power the charmed brand)
He raised his buckler for defence,
And, as 'gainst living strength and sense,
Strode to the combat; closing then,
That falchion, bane of stoutest men,
By its rich-studded hilt he seized,
And the cold iron fingers squeezed.
He pull'd, and stoop'd, and writhing strove
By strength that sturdy grasp to move;
And every nerve and sinew strain'd,
Till force at length the weapon gain'd.
Then back the hand of iron sprang,
And through the vault loud echoes rang;
73
Which in its left that statue held:
And, sudden as the blow, were all
The lights extinguish'd in the hall;
And through the gloom no twinkling show'd,
Save where the distant furnace glow'd.
To gain the narrow winding cave,
The path which ready entrance gave,
Recover'd from his first surprise,
His treasure won, the warrior tries.
Easy the way for mortal wight
To plunge into those vaults of night,
But hard again from such abyss
To reach the realms of light and bliss.
The youth long labor'd to explore
In each dark nook the hidden door,
And every crevice vainly tried
In the huge cavern's massive side.
When sudden on his listening ear
Swell'd the sweet notes of music near.
He knew the same soft-warbled sound,
Which he had heard from under ground.
He spoke, but no response was given,
Save echoes through the long vault driven.
The voice melodious seem'd to fly,
And each soft note in distance die.
But, hoping thus with eager mind
Some issue from the gloom to find,
Through many a winding cavern he
Follow'd the floating symphony,
Till beams of sparkling light appear'd,
And plain the warbling voice was heard.
74
“Proud warrior, thou shalt dwell to-night
“With the fair queen of the Elves of light;
“My voice shall guide thee to the bower
“Where thou shalt spend the pleasant hour.
“A thousand Elves of swarthy hue
“In vain the wonderous virgin woo.
“O she is fair as diamond's ray,
“Pure as the hallow'd fount of day,
“Untouch'd as brilliant gems that lie
“Deep hid in earth from human eye!
“Then hie thee, hie thee, youth, to share
“Joy's best delights, love's daintiest fare!
“Think of fierce wars and strife hereafter,
“Here is sweet bliss, and mirth, and laughter!”
“With the fair queen of the Elves of light;
“My voice shall guide thee to the bower
“Where thou shalt spend the pleasant hour.
“A thousand Elves of swarthy hue
“In vain the wonderous virgin woo.
“O she is fair as diamond's ray,
“Pure as the hallow'd fount of day,
“Untouch'd as brilliant gems that lie
“Deep hid in earth from human eye!
“Then hie thee, hie thee, youth, to share
“Joy's best delights, love's daintiest fare!
“Think of fierce wars and strife hereafter,
“Here is sweet bliss, and mirth, and laughter!”
Well might the warrior marvel, while
The melting notes his ears beguile;
For issuing from that darksome place
As now he stood, an ample space
Show'd like a garden passing fair,
Though nurtured in that nether air.
The vaulted roof, all smooth and even,
Seem'd like a blue and cloudless heaven,
With that pure gem's translucence framed,
Which from the ocean's wave is named.
There, quaintly work'd of jewels rare
By nicest art and subtle care,
Thousand odorous shrubs disclose
Their mimic charms in varied rows;
Their branches deck'd with foliage sheen,
Their opening buds of glossy green,
And flowers of every brilliant hue
Sparkling as with the morning dew.
There hanging from the wanton vine
The amethystine bunches shine;
The plum with bloom untouch'd and new
There counterfeits the living hue;
And many a fruit of southern clime,
The orange bright, the yellow lime;
The citron weeping from its weight,
The shaddock huge, and golden date.
Beneath a wanton emerald bower,
Cluster'd with pendant fruit and flower,
A gorgeous couch was seen; the bed
With furs and silken tissue spread.
There in soft luxury reclined
The fairest of the elfin kind.
Stretch'd on the precious mantle warm
Unconscious lay her beauteous form
In gentlest slumber, and the eye
Might all her loveliness descry.
The moist red lips, on which the smile
Ready to kindle slept, the while
Soft beaming; and the polish'd brow
Hiding its pure and living snow
Beneath the parting locks, that stray'd
Down her smooth neck, or curling play'd
O'er the white shoulder, and below,
Where the soft bosom's beauties glow;
The tiny hands, the graceful arms,
That loosely rest on snowy charms,
Half seen, half veil'd by flowing vest;
The feet, by no bright sandal press'd;
Her beaming eyes alone conceal'd
Seem'd in deep slumber sweetly seal'd.
The melting notes his ears beguile;
For issuing from that darksome place
As now he stood, an ample space
Show'd like a garden passing fair,
Though nurtured in that nether air.
The vaulted roof, all smooth and even,
Seem'd like a blue and cloudless heaven,
With that pure gem's translucence framed,
Which from the ocean's wave is named.
There, quaintly work'd of jewels rare
By nicest art and subtle care,
Thousand odorous shrubs disclose
Their mimic charms in varied rows;
Their branches deck'd with foliage sheen,
Their opening buds of glossy green,
And flowers of every brilliant hue
Sparkling as with the morning dew.
75
The amethystine bunches shine;
The plum with bloom untouch'd and new
There counterfeits the living hue;
And many a fruit of southern clime,
The orange bright, the yellow lime;
The citron weeping from its weight,
The shaddock huge, and golden date.
Beneath a wanton emerald bower,
Cluster'd with pendant fruit and flower,
A gorgeous couch was seen; the bed
With furs and silken tissue spread.
There in soft luxury reclined
The fairest of the elfin kind.
Stretch'd on the precious mantle warm
Unconscious lay her beauteous form
In gentlest slumber, and the eye
Might all her loveliness descry.
The moist red lips, on which the smile
Ready to kindle slept, the while
Soft beaming; and the polish'd brow
Hiding its pure and living snow
Beneath the parting locks, that stray'd
Down her smooth neck, or curling play'd
O'er the white shoulder, and below,
Where the soft bosom's beauties glow;
The tiny hands, the graceful arms,
That loosely rest on snowy charms,
Half seen, half veil'd by flowing vest;
The feet, by no bright sandal press'd;
Her beaming eyes alone conceal'd
Seem'd in deep slumber sweetly seal'd.
76
Say, gallants, ye who warm in youth
To your loved mistress boast of truth,
Did e'er such peril prove your faith,
And scaped ye without harm or scath?
Say, did Hialmar's wondering thought
Swell high with inward rapture fraught?
Did the blood mantle o'er his cheek?
Did to his soul strong passion speak?
Or stray'd his thoughts from that strange scene
To Sigtune's fir-trees evergreen,
Where deck'd with every tendril sweet
That dares the northern blast to meet,
With every freshest bud that blows,
His Helga's virgin bower arose?
To your loved mistress boast of truth,
Did e'er such peril prove your faith,
And scaped ye without harm or scath?
Say, did Hialmar's wondering thought
Swell high with inward rapture fraught?
Did the blood mantle o'er his cheek?
Did to his soul strong passion speak?
Or stray'd his thoughts from that strange scene
To Sigtune's fir-trees evergreen,
Where deck'd with every tendril sweet
That dares the northern blast to meet,
With every freshest bud that blows,
His Helga's virgin bower arose?
He shrunk with half-averted eye;
He moved, he turn'd as if to fly;
(But the dank passage black as night
Frown'd dismal on his aching sight,)
Then cast his hurried glance around,
While the nymph started at the sound.
As the shy cushat on her nest
Beneath the embowering shade at rest,
If truant steps intrusive shake
The umbrageous boughs or rustling brake,
Spreads her swift pinion to the breeze,
And starts from the soft lap of ease:
So, beaming loveliness, the fair
Springs from her sleep with timid air,
And blushing like the new-blown rose
A silken mantle round her throws.
Then with a voice so sweet and clear.
It came like music on the ear:
He moved, he turn'd as if to fly;
(But the dank passage black as night
Frown'd dismal on his aching sight,)
Then cast his hurried glance around,
While the nymph started at the sound.
As the shy cushat on her nest
Beneath the embowering shade at rest,
If truant steps intrusive shake
The umbrageous boughs or rustling brake,
Spreads her swift pinion to the breeze,
And starts from the soft lap of ease:
So, beaming loveliness, the fair
Springs from her sleep with timid air,
And blushing like the new-blown rose
A silken mantle round her throws.
Then with a voice so sweet and clear.
It came like music on the ear:
77
“Fool that I was, to trust the charm
“That saved me long from fear and harm!
“While yon portentous sword remain'd
“In the firm iron grasp constrain'd,
“To this my chaste and secret bower,
“Where safe I spent the careless hour,
“Nor man nor gods could entrance gain,
“And force and cunning still were vain;
“And I had vow'd to be the bride
“Of him alone, whose daring pride
“Should wrest the spell-defended brand
“From that huge statue's charmed hand.
“Art thou the bravest of the brave?
“Or, say, did guile obtain the glaive?”
“That saved me long from fear and harm!
“While yon portentous sword remain'd
“In the firm iron grasp constrain'd,
“To this my chaste and secret bower,
“Where safe I spent the careless hour,
“Nor man nor gods could entrance gain,
“And force and cunning still were vain;
“And I had vow'd to be the bride
“Of him alone, whose daring pride
“Should wrest the spell-defended brand
“From that huge statue's charmed hand.
“Art thou the bravest of the brave?
“Or, say, did guile obtain the glaive?”
To her the warrior with a smile:
“Hialmar nothing wins by guile,
“Nor came I, led by brutish sense,
“To spurn the rights of innocence,
“Rifling with rude unhallow'd arms
“Defenceless beauty's secret charms.
“O, thou art more than heavenly fair!
“No mortal can with thee compare!
“The whole of man's short life would be
“Ill worth one rapturous hour with thee!
“But me, constrain'd by holiest bands,
“High vows recall to distant lands;
“Glory, the deathless crown of worth,
“And love, the warrior's meed on earth.”
“Hialmar nothing wins by guile,
“Nor came I, led by brutish sense,
“To spurn the rights of innocence,
“Rifling with rude unhallow'd arms
“Defenceless beauty's secret charms.
“O, thou art more than heavenly fair!
“No mortal can with thee compare!
“The whole of man's short life would be
“Ill worth one rapturous hour with thee!
“But me, constrain'd by holiest bands,
“High vows recall to distant lands;
“Glory, the deathless crown of worth,
“And love, the warrior's meed on earth.”
He said; on one white arm reclined
The loveliest, fairest of her kind.
Her pensive look, demure and coy,
Seem'd to suppress the beam of joy,
While o'er her face a languid smile
Play'd gently, fraught with subtle guile;
And something like reproach was seen
In her mild look and glance serene;
Fond amorous fears, love's melting ray,
Aud sweet assent, and faint delay.
The while soft perfumes seem'd to breathe
From every shrub and flowery wreath;
Aërial music's mellow sound
With tenderest warblings floated round;
And seem'd all nature to conspire
Weaving the web of sweet desire.
By viewless forms the youth was led
Tow'rds that fair nymph's voluptuous bed.
Invisible guidance, gentle force,
That left the will without resource!
His mail was loosed by Elfin hands,
Unknit his armour's iron bands,
And some light finger strove in vain
From his tough grasp the sword to gain.
That instant waked to sense of shame
Sprang back the chief with eyes of flame,
Starting from that insidious spell
Which softly on his senses fell,
And swift on his unearthly foes
Pour'd the bright weapon's deadly blows.
Sudden strange cries assail his ear,
And shrieks of anguish and of fear;
Vanish'd the wanton fairy bower,
Each precious wreath and sparkling flower;
And, all the bright illusion fled,
He views nor nymph, nor gorgeous bed,
But skulking at the cavern's door
That spiteful dwarf who spoke before.
There, scaped from ill, the joyful youth
At the cave's dark and narrow mouth,
Stands in the wild and deep ravine
Those high romantic hills between.
Full well he knew the visage wan,
And at the treacherous dwarfish man,
Wing'd with swift vengeance, aim'd a blow
That might have laid a giant low;
But ne'er by vengeance overta'en
Through mortal force was Pigmy slain.
The trenchant metal cleaves the stone,
And the proud warrior stands alone.
The loveliest, fairest of her kind.
Her pensive look, demure and coy,
Seem'd to suppress the beam of joy,
78
Play'd gently, fraught with subtle guile;
And something like reproach was seen
In her mild look and glance serene;
Fond amorous fears, love's melting ray,
Aud sweet assent, and faint delay.
The while soft perfumes seem'd to breathe
From every shrub and flowery wreath;
Aërial music's mellow sound
With tenderest warblings floated round;
And seem'd all nature to conspire
Weaving the web of sweet desire.
By viewless forms the youth was led
Tow'rds that fair nymph's voluptuous bed.
Invisible guidance, gentle force,
That left the will without resource!
His mail was loosed by Elfin hands,
Unknit his armour's iron bands,
And some light finger strove in vain
From his tough grasp the sword to gain.
That instant waked to sense of shame
Sprang back the chief with eyes of flame,
Starting from that insidious spell
Which softly on his senses fell,
And swift on his unearthly foes
Pour'd the bright weapon's deadly blows.
Sudden strange cries assail his ear,
And shrieks of anguish and of fear;
Vanish'd the wanton fairy bower,
Each precious wreath and sparkling flower;
And, all the bright illusion fled,
He views nor nymph, nor gorgeous bed,
79
That spiteful dwarf who spoke before.
There, scaped from ill, the joyful youth
At the cave's dark and narrow mouth,
Stands in the wild and deep ravine
Those high romantic hills between.
Full well he knew the visage wan,
And at the treacherous dwarfish man,
Wing'd with swift vengeance, aim'd a blow
That might have laid a giant low;
But ne'er by vengeance overta'en
Through mortal force was Pigmy slain.
The trenchant metal cleaves the stone,
And the proud warrior stands alone.
END OF CANTO IV.
| Works of the Hon. and Very Rev. William Herbert | |