FRAGMENT OF A NORTHERN TALE.
Where Harold, with golden hair, spread o'er Lochlin
Where Harold, with golden hair, spread o'er Lochlin his
high commands; where, with justice, he ruled the tribes, who
sunk, subdued, beneath his sword; abrupt rises Gormal in
snow! The tempests roll dark on his sides, but calm, above,
his vast forehead appears. White-issuing from the skirt of his
storms, the troubled torrents pour down his sides. Joining,
as they roar along, they bear the Torno, in foam, to the
main.
Grey on the bank and far from men, half-covered by ancient
pines from the wind, a lonely pile exalts its head, long-shaken
by the storms of the north. To this fled Sigurd,
fierce in fight, from Harold the leader of armies, when fate
had brightened his spear with renown: When he conquered
in that rude field, where Lulan's warriors fell in blood, or
rose, in terror, on the waves of the main. Darkly sat the
grey-haired chief; yet sorrow dwelt not in his soul. But
when the warrior thought on the past, his proud heart
heaved against his side: Forth flew his sword from its place, he
wounded Harold in all the winds.
One daughter, and only one, but bright in form and mild
of soul, the last beam of the setting line, remained to Sigurd
of all his race. His son, in Lulan's battle slain, beheld not
his father's flight from his foes. Nor finished seemed the
ancient line! The splendid beauty of bright-eyed Fithon covered
still the fallen king with renown. Her arm was white
like Gormal's snow; her bosom whiter than the foam of
the main, when roll the waves beneath the wrath of the winds.
Like two stars were her radiant eyes, like two stars that rise
on the deep, when dark tumult embroils the night. Pleasant
are their beams aloft, as stately they ascend the skies.
Nor Odin forgot, in aught, the maid. Her form scarce
equalled her lofty mind. Awe moved around her stately steps.
Heroes loved—but shrunk away in their fears. Yet midst
the pride of all her charms, her heart was soft, and her soul
was kind. She saw the mournful with tearful eyes. Transient
darkness arose in her breast. Her joy was in the chace.
Each morning, when doubtful light wandered dimly on Lulan's
waves, she rouzed the resounding woods, to Gormal's
head of snow. Nor moved the maid alone, &c.
