 | Idyls of Norway and other poems |  |
95
THE NIXY.
She sat at the opened window,
And mused o'er an old romance;
And the glorious peal of the legend
Still held her soul in its trance.
And her heart was thronged with yearnings
That cried for utterance.
And mused o'er an old romance;
And the glorious peal of the legend
Still held her soul in its trance.
And her heart was thronged with yearnings
That cried for utterance.
The world seemed so pale and dreary,
A vain and inglorious play;
The thundering heroes of old time
Had left it to fade and decay;
The radiant soul had departed
And left the inanimate clay.
A vain and inglorious play;
The thundering heroes of old time
Had left it to fade and decay;
The radiant soul had departed
And left the inanimate clay.
96
She closed the dear book of her heroes,
And down from her tower she sped,
Where the shivering leaves of the birches
A lingering glamour spread.
Strange murmurs stole through the forest,
Strange voices of warning and dread.
And down from her tower she sped,
Where the shivering leaves of the birches
A lingering glamour spread.
Strange murmurs stole through the forest,
Strange voices of warning and dread.
She stood at the brink of the river,
And heard the loud waters fall;
Now rising with deafening thunder,
And wrestling with clamorous brawl;
Now breathing a quivering whisper
Adown o'er the rocky wall.
And heard the loud waters fall;
Now rising with deafening thunder,
And wrestling with clamorous brawl;
Now breathing a quivering whisper
Adown o'er the rocky wall.
Anon o'er the darksome waters
The shadows of midnight brood,
And the ghosts of a thousand legends
Flit through the shuddering wood;
But still at the brink of the river
The maiden, wondering, stood.
The shadows of midnight brood,
And the ghosts of a thousand legends
Flit through the shuddering wood;
But still at the brink of the river
The maiden, wondering, stood.
There was a strong soul in the waters,
A soul grand, noble, and free—
For the yawning abysses panted
With tremulous ecstasy—
Which rose with a misty fulness,
Then burst into melody.
A soul grand, noble, and free—
97
With tremulous ecstasy—
Which rose with a misty fulness,
Then burst into melody.
And hushed was the night-wind's murmur,
And hushed seemed the cataract's roll,
While clear and airily trembling
The tones through the forest stole.
They came like familiar voices,
That soothe the unrest of the soul.
And hushed seemed the cataract's roll,
While clear and airily trembling
The tones through the forest stole.
They came like familiar voices,
That soothe the unrest of the soul.
The hopes her young heart had cherished,
The dreams of the days gone by,
The yearnings that throbbed in her bosom,
Deep-hidden from mortal eye,
Had gained a voice in the music,
And joyfully rose to the sky.
The dreams of the days gone by,
The yearnings that throbbed in her bosom,
Deep-hidden from mortal eye,
Had gained a voice in the music,
And joyfully rose to the sky.
A tenderly luring sadness
Abode in the mellow tone.
Ah, there was love and solace
For a life that was drear and lone!
A leap in the dark, a brief flutter,—
And darkly the waves hurried on.
Abode in the mellow tone.
Ah, there was love and solace
For a life that was drear and lone!
98
And darkly the waves hurried on.
Two men at morn sought the river;
And lo! to the tree-roots clung
The form of a lifeless maiden,
So wondrously fair and young.
“'Twas the Nixy,” they said, “who allured her,
Beguiling her heart with his song.”
And lo! to the tree-roots clung
The form of a lifeless maiden,
So wondrously fair and young.
“'Twas the Nixy,” they said, “who allured her,
Beguiling her heart with his song.”
The Nixy (Necken), according to Norse superstition, is a male sprite who lives in the rivers and roaring cataracts, through whose brawl the alluring music of his harp is often heard. He frequently beguiles young maidens by his wondrous melodies, in which his longing for human love and fellowship is expressed.
| Idyls of Norway and other poems | |