THE SCALD'S TALE.
VI.
Along by the side of a rushing stream
Two beings were gliding as if in a dream;
The one was a warrior noble and tall,
The other a lady very fair,
A shadowy figure with auburn hair;
And her beautiful bright and expressive eyes
Were a deeper blue than the summer skies.
But sorrow saddened her marble brow,
And her bosom heaved with many a sigh,
“Oh! Rollo, thou canst not leave me now,
Thou canst not leave me thus to die.
VII.
“Let others seek the battle field,
Who neither love nor friendship know,
Let others smite the glittering shield
Thou Rollo wilt not, shalt not go!
In my sleep last night a figure came,
A figure all in horror drest;
His eyes sent forth a sickly flame,
And a ghastly wound was in his breast.
VIII.
I looked upon his noble brow,
But it was damp as any cloud,
And,—Rollo if I see thee now
I saw thee then and in thy shroud!
The blood ran freezing to my heart,
I shall forget it,—never—never—
Oh hear me! if we now should part,
We part, I know we part,—forever!”
IX.
“Nay, dearest Thora, say not so,
Let not illusions break thy rest;
And weep thou not o'er fancied woe,
Nor let vain dreams disturb thy breast.
Fierce Gylfe comes rushing in his might,
His armed hosts come thundering on,
And Thora I must join the fight
Ere death or victory be won.”
He said, and turned his head aside
To hide the pulsing of his heart,
He turned his secret pain to hide,
He found it hard I ween to part.
X
The maiden marked his secret grief,
She saw the tear stand in his eye,
And aye she would for his relief
Have shared that deep, reluctant sigh.
She strove his fixed resolve to move
And keep him from the bloody fray;
“I pray thee by the power of love,
And by the heavenly host above
My life,—my Rollo stay away.
XI.
“But if the wailings of the dying,
And if the deep despairing groan,
Are sweeter than a maiden's sighing
Then go,—and leave me all alone.
And if the hideous form of war
Presents an aspect fair to thee,
Surpassing my poor charms by far,—
Oh! then forget thy love and me,
And go,—and raise the battle cry,
Why should thy lingering footsteps stay?
Nor shed a tear, nor heave a sigh
For thou art happier far, away.
Haste, haste, and leave the maid alone
Who only asks a maiden's part,
Heed not her prayer, her sigh, her groan,
Go, Rollo go,—and break my heart!”
XII.
“Nay Thora check these idle fears,
My duty calls me hence away,
Restrain the torrent of thy tears,
I must not, cannot, dare not stay.
How could I at my country's need
Desert her when I ought to bleed?
Perish the thought! my very name
Would be a lasting mark of shame.
And if I thus should recreant prove,
I could not look on thee again,
The very sight would give me pain,
I should feel far beneath thy love,
Thou wouldst be lost to me forever;—
Thora it cannot be,—no never!
XIII.
“And Thora though thou sorrowest now,
Thou soon shalt deck a victor's brow.
I seek the field the maddening fight
To set my native country free,
The Gods will surely aid the right
And I will think of them and thee.
Nay lovely being weep no more,
Thy sighs, thy doubts, thy fears are vain,
For when the bloody strife is o'er
We two shall surely meet again.—”
“Yes in another world,” she said,
And meekly hung her pensive head.
