The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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| 5. | PART FIFTH. |
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
5. PART FIFTH.
O come, gentle maiden
Of queenly Dunedin,
Array'd in thy beauty and gladdening smiles;
Thine the control I list,
Lovely mythologist!
Thine the monition that never beguiles.
Of queenly Dunedin,
Array'd in thy beauty and gladdening smiles;
Thine the control I list,
Lovely mythologist!
Thine the monition that never beguiles.
Over the mountain wave;
Over the hero's grave;
Over the darkness of ages gone by;
Be thou my inquirer,
And holy inspirer,
And keenly I'll follow the glance of thine eye.
Over the hero's grave;
Over the darkness of ages gone by;
Be thou my inquirer,
And holy inspirer,
And keenly I'll follow the glance of thine eye.
But, bowing before thee,
Far most I implore thee,
When rapt in the strain that I love beyond measure;
That theme so ecstatic,
Sublime and erratic,
The love of a maiden, the magnet of pleasure!
Far most I implore thee,
When rapt in the strain that I love beyond measure;
That theme so ecstatic,
Sublime and erratic,
The love of a maiden, the magnet of pleasure!
What were the sailor's joy,
Roll'd in his bavaroy,
Far in the gloom of the dark Polar Sea;
What were the warrior's deed,
Minstrel or monarch's meed,
What, without hope of approval from thee?
Roll'd in his bavaroy,
Far in the gloom of the dark Polar Sea;
What were the warrior's deed,
Minstrel or monarch's meed,
What, without hope of approval from thee?
Thou gem of creation,
The world's admiration,
Thy mind is a mystery I cannot explore;
I'll love and caress thee,
Admonish and bless thee,
But sound the high tone of thy feelings no more.
The world's admiration,
Thy mind is a mystery I cannot explore;
I'll love and caress thee,
Admonish and bless thee,
But sound the high tone of thy feelings no more.
The gray hairs of sorrow,
And dread of to-morrow,
Have bow'd down thy bard on his cold native lea;
Then list the last lay
Of the green bracken brae,
The song is a medley, and model of thee.
And dread of to-morrow,
Have bow'd down thy bard on his cold native lea;
Then list the last lay
Of the green bracken brae,
The song is a medley, and model of thee.
Queen Hynde's in her tower,
For the storm and the shower
Had driven the maidens within;
And shrouded the view
Of the anxious few
That yearn'd over the fates of their kin.
For the storm and the shower
Had driven the maidens within;
And shrouded the view
Of the anxious few
That yearn'd over the fates of their kin.
All trembling and pining,
The queen sat reclining,
She knew not what was befalling;
But she boded deep dismay,
For the shouts were far away,
And each sound through the storm was appalling.
The queen sat reclining,
She knew not what was befalling;
But she boded deep dismay,
For the shouts were far away,
And each sound through the storm was appalling.
229
One after one to the field she sent,
Who hasted away incontinent;
But out of the throng, the mire, and the rain,
No one return'd with the tidings again;
And the first that arrived was Allan Bane.
All sheeted in blood appear'd he there,
And his looks and his words were all despair.
King Eric's message in full he told,
And of his claim the queen to hold;
Then vouched the boast of his warrior slight,
As far inferior to his might;
For he said, that “enchanter's mighty charm
Had given that force into his arm.
The combat was lost; no power to deliver!
And so would the next, and the next for ever.”
Who hasted away incontinent;
But out of the throng, the mire, and the rain,
No one return'd with the tidings again;
And the first that arrived was Allan Bane.
All sheeted in blood appear'd he there,
And his looks and his words were all despair.
King Eric's message in full he told,
And of his claim the queen to hold;
Then vouched the boast of his warrior slight,
As far inferior to his might;
For he said, that “enchanter's mighty charm
Had given that force into his arm.
The combat was lost; no power to deliver!
And so would the next, and the next for ever.”
Perplexity reigned in every face,
As every rankling pang kept place
In various breasts; one there might see
Anger, regret, temerity,
Hope, fear, contempt, elation, shame,
And every passion tongue can name,
All crowded on a darksome scene,
With scarce a ray of light between.
As every rankling pang kept place
In various breasts; one there might see
Anger, regret, temerity,
Hope, fear, contempt, elation, shame,
And every passion tongue can name,
All crowded on a darksome scene,
With scarce a ray of light between.
As ever you saw, on winter eve,
When the sun takes a joyless leave,
Descending on some distant coast,
Beyond the waste of waters lost,
The ocean's breast all overspread
With shades of green and murky red,
With distant fields of sackcloth hue,
With pale, with purple, and with blue,
And every shade defined and strong,
Without one cheerful ray among;
And knew'st these spectres multiform,
The heralds of approaching storm:
So was it here. Proud Albyn's blood
Began to boil, the storm to brood;
Some blamed the preference by lot;
Nor were old jealousies forgot.
Some blamed the brave and wounded thane
Of brangle hurtful and insane;
And said, A thousand might be found
Would Eric beat, in Albyn's bound.
It was a scene of feud and dare,
As feudal councils always were.
When the sun takes a joyless leave,
Descending on some distant coast,
Beyond the waste of waters lost,
The ocean's breast all overspread
With shades of green and murky red,
With distant fields of sackcloth hue,
With pale, with purple, and with blue,
And every shade defined and strong,
Without one cheerful ray among;
And knew'st these spectres multiform,
The heralds of approaching storm:
So was it here. Proud Albyn's blood
Began to boil, the storm to brood;
Some blamed the preference by lot;
Nor were old jealousies forgot.
Some blamed the brave and wounded thane
Of brangle hurtful and insane;
And said, A thousand might be found
Would Eric beat, in Albyn's bound.
It was a scene of feud and dare,
As feudal councils always were.
Old Diarmid rose this feud to check—
His reverend age insured respect—
And thus he spoke: “My sovereign dame,
And noble maids, and chiefs of fame,
Hard is our fate, whate'er the worth
Of this bold wooer of the north.
This city of our fathers' names
In one short hour may be in flames,
And with the thousands of our kin
That now are throng'd its walls within,
Of every age, sex, and degree,
How dreadful would the sequel be!
King Eric's claim, confess I must,
Can scarcely be pronounced unjust;
'Tis only that for which he fought,
Else he has staked his all for nought—
And should he win again, 'tis clear
(And likely too from all we hear),
If we such claim should disallow,
He has no more than he has now.
Therefore I deem, in such a case,
To save our gather'd populace,
We must to Eric straight present
Some pledge, some great equivalent,
If such there be; but as for more,
I said but as I said before,
The moment with our queen we part,
Our country's freedom we desert.”
His reverend age insured respect—
And thus he spoke: “My sovereign dame,
And noble maids, and chiefs of fame,
Hard is our fate, whate'er the worth
Of this bold wooer of the north.
This city of our fathers' names
In one short hour may be in flames,
And with the thousands of our kin
That now are throng'd its walls within,
Of every age, sex, and degree,
How dreadful would the sequel be!
King Eric's claim, confess I must,
Can scarcely be pronounced unjust;
'Tis only that for which he fought,
Else he has staked his all for nought—
And should he win again, 'tis clear
(And likely too from all we hear),
If we such claim should disallow,
He has no more than he has now.
Therefore I deem, in such a case,
To save our gather'd populace,
We must to Eric straight present
Some pledge, some great equivalent,
If such there be; but as for more,
I said but as I said before,
The moment with our queen we part,
Our country's freedom we desert.”
“Forbid it, Heaven!” Queen Hynde replied,
“For me no warrior's hand be tied.
When I am gone, as go I must,
I in your patriot ardour trust,
That by your country's rights you stand,
Nor lose one jot for maiden's hand.
This hour I go, ere worse arrives,
To save my people's sacred lives.”
“For me no warrior's hand be tied.
When I am gone, as go I must,
I in your patriot ardour trust,
That by your country's rights you stand,
Nor lose one jot for maiden's hand.
This hour I go, ere worse arrives,
To save my people's sacred lives.”
One buzz of disapproval ran
Around the hall, from man to man;
And all prepared to take the field:
To sell their lives, but not to yield
Their youthful queen; as, doing so,
They stoop'd unto a foreign foe.
Around the hall, from man to man;
And all prepared to take the field:
To sell their lives, but not to yield
Their youthful queen; as, doing so,
They stoop'd unto a foreign foe.
As wilder still the uproar grew,
And nought but havoc was in view,
The city crowded perilously,
No room to fight, nor yet to flee;
Confusion, ruin, crowds aghast,
Defeat, and conflagration vast,
The certain consequence to be
Of this their fierce fidelity.
And nought but havoc was in view,
The city crowded perilously,
No room to fight, nor yet to flee;
Confusion, ruin, crowds aghast,
Defeat, and conflagration vast,
The certain consequence to be
Of this their fierce fidelity.
In this dilemma came relief;
Not from the clan of distant chief,
From friendly prince, nor subject isle,
But from a maiden's witching wile!
The restless Wene, since she had seen
Prince Haco, sore perplex'd had been;
And much she long'd for some deray,
To throw her in that hero's way,
Whose youthful arm and sprightly form
Had cow'd the might of Donald Gorm;
And hence her mind was wholly bent
On being with her mistress sent,
An hostage to King Eric's tent.
Not from the clan of distant chief,
From friendly prince, nor subject isle,
But from a maiden's witching wile!
The restless Wene, since she had seen
Prince Haco, sore perplex'd had been;
And much she long'd for some deray,
To throw her in that hero's way,
Whose youthful arm and sprightly form
Had cow'd the might of Donald Gorm;
And hence her mind was wholly bent
On being with her mistress sent,
An hostage to King Eric's tent.
Now, when she saw the proud resolve
Of Albyn's chiefs would straight involve
The land in trouble, toil, and woe,
And all her measures overthrow,
Forthwith she rose with seemly grace,
And all her majesty of face,
And proffer'd, for her mistress' sake,
Her place of royalty to take;
And on the instant to go thence,
In such an adverse exigence.
Of Albyn's chiefs would straight involve
The land in trouble, toil, and woe,
And all her measures overthrow,
Forthwith she rose with seemly grace,
And all her majesty of face,
And proffer'd, for her mistress' sake,
Her place of royalty to take;
230
In such an adverse exigence.
“Send me to Eric straight!” said she,
“In all the pomp of royalty;
With maids and pages at my beck,
Kneeling, and bowing with respect;
And loads of comfits, and of dress
Blazing in eastern sumptuousness.
His forward claim he may repent,
I'll queen it to his heart's content!
One only claim to make I choose,
Which as a king he can't refuse;
It is that, as a virgin queen,
My face by man may not be seen,
Until the seven days are outrun,
And Albyn's chiefs have lost or won.
This for my country's sake I crave,
Now trembling o'er her freedom's grave;
And then I yield me to his hand,
An hostage for my native land.
To plague that king I have a mind:
If he's not sick of woman kind,
And, ere the seventh day, driven insane,
My name no more is Wicked Wene!”
“In all the pomp of royalty;
With maids and pages at my beck,
Kneeling, and bowing with respect;
And loads of comfits, and of dress
Blazing in eastern sumptuousness.
His forward claim he may repent,
I'll queen it to his heart's content!
One only claim to make I choose,
Which as a king he can't refuse;
It is that, as a virgin queen,
My face by man may not be seen,
Until the seven days are outrun,
And Albyn's chiefs have lost or won.
This for my country's sake I crave,
Now trembling o'er her freedom's grave;
And then I yield me to his hand,
An hostage for my native land.
To plague that king I have a mind:
If he's not sick of woman kind,
And, ere the seventh day, driven insane,
My name no more is Wicked Wene!”
The courtiers smiled, as well they might,
And lauded much the maiden's sleight;
But sore they fear'd the plot would fail,
And do more mischief than avail.
Wene's form was slight, her stature small,
The queen's majestically tall;
And, worst of all, the king had seen
And held some converse with the queen.
And lauded much the maiden's sleight;
But sore they fear'd the plot would fail,
And do more mischief than avail.
Wene's form was slight, her stature small,
The queen's majestically tall;
And, worst of all, the king had seen
And held some converse with the queen.
Wene smiled, and bade them nothing dread.
She should be taller by a head,
Than Eric could of queenship guess;
She'd add one inch of wickedness,
And three of beauty, pride, and mind,
Should dazzle mighty Eric blind.
She'd swathe the braggart in amaze,
If not drive mad, in seven short days.
She should be taller by a head,
Than Eric could of queenship guess;
She'd add one inch of wickedness,
And three of beauty, pride, and mind,
Should dazzle mighty Eric blind.
She'd swathe the braggart in amaze,
If not drive mad, in seven short days.
Queen Hynde embraced the elf, and said,
No mistress e'er had such a maid;
And if success this effort crown'd,
She would for ever be renown'd;
For future bards, in many a strain,
Would sing the deeds of beauteous Wene.
And when a lover she should choose,
Her sovereign would no boon refuse;
While all her interest she might claim
To win a lord of noble fame.
No mistress e'er had such a maid;
And if success this effort crown'd,
She would for ever be renown'd;
For future bards, in many a strain,
Would sing the deeds of beauteous Wene.
And when a lover she should choose,
Her sovereign would no boon refuse;
While all her interest she might claim
To win a lord of noble fame.
“Ohon an Banrigh!” sigh'd the elf;
“Preserve your interest for yourself,
My generous queen; for you may need
That and some more, in marriage speed.
For me, henceforth I'll use mankind
As I would do the passing wind—
To breathe upon, and bid it fly
Away from great important I!
Or to supply this ardent breast
With cooling laughter and with jest.
Interest! The proffer is sublime!
Come, let us go, we lose but time.
When from this presence I depart
In all the pomp of female art,
'Mid grandeur and respect to move,
I'll queen it mortal queens above.”
“Preserve your interest for yourself,
My generous queen; for you may need
That and some more, in marriage speed.
For me, henceforth I'll use mankind
As I would do the passing wind—
To breathe upon, and bid it fly
Away from great important I!
Or to supply this ardent breast
With cooling laughter and with jest.
Interest! The proffer is sublime!
Come, let us go, we lose but time.
When from this presence I depart
In all the pomp of female art,
'Mid grandeur and respect to move,
I'll queen it mortal queens above.”
All present own'd with earnestness,
There was no mode so safe as this,
Save for the danger of the maid,
Of which she nothing seem'd afraid.
The queen assured them that she knew
The cunning of the lively shrew
Too well from trial, to suspect
That what she said she'd not effect.
Forthwith a herald went with speed
To Eric at his army's head,
Prepared to bathe their weapons' rust,
And lay old Beregon in dust.
Eric, with generous love inspired,
Conceded all the queen desired,
And straight made preparation high
For this most lovely prodigy—
This queen, of frame and soul refined,
Surpassing all of human kind!
There was no mode so safe as this,
Save for the danger of the maid,
Of which she nothing seem'd afraid.
The queen assured them that she knew
The cunning of the lively shrew
Too well from trial, to suspect
That what she said she'd not effect.
Forthwith a herald went with speed
To Eric at his army's head,
Prepared to bathe their weapons' rust,
And lay old Beregon in dust.
Eric, with generous love inspired,
Conceded all the queen desired,
And straight made preparation high
For this most lovely prodigy—
This queen, of frame and soul refined,
Surpassing all of human kind!
Eastward the storm its course had traced,
To roar amid the Grampian waste,
In one dark elemental stole
These everlasting hills to roll;
And in that deep impervious cloud
Were roll'd, as in a hellish shroud,
The hail, the thunder, and the flame;
And ghastly shades, without a name,
Holding them all in order due,
Prepared the outrage to renew—
To sport them all in wild excess,
And riot in the wilderness.
To roar amid the Grampian waste,
In one dark elemental stole
These everlasting hills to roll;
And in that deep impervious cloud
Were roll'd, as in a hellish shroud,
The hail, the thunder, and the flame;
And ghastly shades, without a name,
Holding them all in order due,
Prepared the outrage to renew—
To sport them all in wild excess,
And riot in the wilderness.
Soon as that cloud had pass'd away,
Forth issued Wene, like meteor gay,
With music pealing on the wind,
And troops before and troops behind;
Twelve pages, glancing all in green;
Twelve maidens, in their tartans sheen;
Twelve bards, who sung, in strains intense,
Their sovereign's great magnificence,
And deeds her ancestors had done,
Surpassing all beneath the sun.
All were sincere, you may believe't—
How oft poor minstrels are deceived!
Forth issued Wene, like meteor gay,
With music pealing on the wind,
And troops before and troops behind;
Twelve pages, glancing all in green;
Twelve maidens, in their tartans sheen;
Twelve bards, who sung, in strains intense,
Their sovereign's great magnificence,
And deeds her ancestors had done,
Surpassing all beneath the sun.
All were sincere, you may believe't—
How oft poor minstrels are deceived!
In all the splendour of the morn,
The beauteous dame herself was borne
On high, a gilded throne within—
A lightsome, yielding palanquin;
Her form begirt with many a gem,
Her head with sparkling diadem;
A gauzy veil of snowy white,
Befringed with gold and silver bright,
Floated around her on the air,
Circling a form so passing fair,
So pure, so lovely, so benign,
It almost seem'd a thing divine.
The beauteous dame herself was borne
On high, a gilded throne within—
A lightsome, yielding palanquin;
Her form begirt with many a gem,
Her head with sparkling diadem;
A gauzy veil of snowy white,
Befringed with gold and silver bright,
231
Circling a form so passing fair,
So pure, so lovely, so benign,
It almost seem'd a thing divine.
Eric, array'd in warrior trim,
Surrounded by his nobles grim,
Came forth the royal dame to meet,
And with kind salutations greet.
Behind him shone a goodlier view—
Prince Haco and his retinue;
And he himself that train before,
Robed in the armour which he wore
That morn upon the sanguine field,
The golden helmet and the shield;
And in his youthful hand display'd
The golden hilt and bloody blade,
All saying, with full fond regard,
“See for your sake what I have dared!”
Oh how his ardent bosom pined
For one sweet glance, approving, kind,
Of the dear being he had seen,
And now his bosom's only queen!
Surrounded by his nobles grim,
Came forth the royal dame to meet,
And with kind salutations greet.
Behind him shone a goodlier view—
Prince Haco and his retinue;
And he himself that train before,
Robed in the armour which he wore
That morn upon the sanguine field,
The golden helmet and the shield;
And in his youthful hand display'd
The golden hilt and bloody blade,
All saying, with full fond regard,
“See for your sake what I have dared!”
Oh how his ardent bosom pined
For one sweet glance, approving, kind,
Of the dear being he had seen,
And now his bosom's only queen!
Queen Wene approach'd with colours streaming,
Music sounding, lances gleaming,
Borne on high by gallant yeomen
Slowly forth to Albyn's foemen:
There stood Eric, smiling, bowing—
What a form for youthful wooing!
Bearded, dark, robust, and vigorous,
Stern, gigantic, blunt, and rigorous,
All his youthful manner over—
Such a man to play the lover,
'Mid such array, and such a scene,
And to such elf as wicked Wene!
Music sounding, lances gleaming,
Borne on high by gallant yeomen
Slowly forth to Albyn's foemen:
There stood Eric, smiling, bowing—
What a form for youthful wooing!
Bearded, dark, robust, and vigorous,
Stern, gigantic, blunt, and rigorous,
All his youthful manner over—
Such a man to play the lover,
'Mid such array, and such a scene,
And to such elf as wicked Wene!
Wene, from her gilded chair on high,
Return'd King Eric's courtesy,
With grace so courteous, and so kind,
It quite deranged the hero's mind.
He kiss'd his brown and brawny fist,
And laid it on his ample breast;
Then grinn'd with most afflicting leer,
And from his visage wiped the tear!
His nobles blush'd, and fretted sore,
And so did Eric, when 'twas o'er.
His face was like a winter day
Aping the summer's glancing ray,
With sunbeam low, and rainbow high,
Arching a frigid boreal sky,
Shaded with cloud so darkly bleak,
Like pall upon creation's cheek,
Rather than summer's youthful hue,
And cloudlets weeping balmy dew.
Return'd King Eric's courtesy,
With grace so courteous, and so kind,
It quite deranged the hero's mind.
He kiss'd his brown and brawny fist,
And laid it on his ample breast;
Then grinn'd with most afflicting leer,
And from his visage wiped the tear!
His nobles blush'd, and fretted sore,
And so did Eric, when 'twas o'er.
His face was like a winter day
Aping the summer's glancing ray,
With sunbeam low, and rainbow high,
Arching a frigid boreal sky,
Shaded with cloud so darkly bleak,
Like pall upon creation's cheek,
Rather than summer's youthful hue,
And cloudlets weeping balmy dew.
A herald then, with verge and sword,
And many a pompous, swelling word,
Approach'd King Eric, and at large,
Deliver'd o'er the sacred charge—
A charge, in value and esteem,
Ne'er trusted to a king but him.
Eric, with nodding burgonet,
Return'd an answer most discreet,
With sacred promise to neglect
No kind of homage or respect:
Wene curtsey'd with commanding air,
And motion'd him behind her chair!
And many a pompous, swelling word,
Approach'd King Eric, and at large,
Deliver'd o'er the sacred charge—
A charge, in value and esteem,
Ne'er trusted to a king but him.
Eric, with nodding burgonet,
Return'd an answer most discreet,
With sacred promise to neglect
No kind of homage or respect:
Wene curtsey'd with commanding air,
And motion'd him behind her chair!
The king look'd up, the king look'd down,
Uncertain if to laugh or frown;
But when he saw the flimsy fair
Moving like angel through the air,
With such a glittering gaudy show
Of flounce, and frill, and furbelow,
His eyes descended from the jilt
Slowly upon his weapon's hilt,
And something that he mutter'd there
Made all his warriors stern to stare.
Uncertain if to laugh or frown;
But when he saw the flimsy fair
Moving like angel through the air,
With such a glittering gaudy show
Of flounce, and frill, and furbelow,
His eyes descended from the jilt
Slowly upon his weapon's hilt,
And something that he mutter'd there
Made all his warriors stern to stare.
When Haco met the elfin's eye,
Her little heart ne'er beat so high:
Full well she noted, as she pass'd,
His eager glances upward cast,
And, turning by her snowy veil,
With such a glance, and such a smile,
And such a transport of delight—
Prince Haco's heart was ravish'd quite!
Her little heart ne'er beat so high:
Full well she noted, as she pass'd,
His eager glances upward cast,
And, turning by her snowy veil,
With such a glance, and such a smile,
And such a transport of delight—
Prince Haco's heart was ravish'd quite!
Straight to King Eric's royal tent
Wene and her retinue were sent,
And strict commands were left therein,
To Frotho, the old chamberlain,
That Albyn's queen and suite should have
Whate'er their utmost thoughts could crave:
To that the king had bound him fast,
And he would keep it to the last.
Wene and her retinue were sent,
And strict commands were left therein,
To Frotho, the old chamberlain,
That Albyn's queen and suite should have
Whate'er their utmost thoughts could crave:
To that the king had bound him fast,
And he would keep it to the last.
Alas! in vain the high behest!
He little wist what vixen guest
Under his guardship he had ta'en,
But found it nothing to his gain.
Ere half an hour had overpast,
Frotho had applications vast
For things so rare and unforeseen,
He cursed his chance, the truce, the queen.
At first the old man did not miss
To bustle round, and answer “yes;”
But, ere the fall of night, he stood
More like a chamberlain of wood,
Than living thing of flesh and blood;
His senses utterly confounded,
With pages and with maids surrounded,
Calling for this, for that, for more
Than the old man, with all his lore,
Had e'er heard specified before.
He little wist what vixen guest
Under his guardship he had ta'en,
But found it nothing to his gain.
Ere half an hour had overpast,
Frotho had applications vast
For things so rare and unforeseen,
He cursed his chance, the truce, the queen.
At first the old man did not miss
To bustle round, and answer “yes;”
But, ere the fall of night, he stood
More like a chamberlain of wood,
Than living thing of flesh and blood;
His senses utterly confounded,
With pages and with maids surrounded,
Calling for this, for that, for more
Than the old man, with all his lore,
Had e'er heard specified before.
Three times, in uttermost despair,
To Eric's presence did he fare,
With face that told how hard his lot,
And eyes that spoke what tongue could not,
Begging his master on his knee,
Of that dire charge his slave to free.
But the fourth time he came outright;
And then his straits were at the height.
The king on homelier couch was laid,
For sake of this illustrious maid;
And, when aroused from deep repose,
Full high his pride and choler rose:
“Frotho, begone! By heaven's good light,
I'll hear no more of queens to-night!”
To Eric's presence did he fare,
With face that told how hard his lot,
And eyes that spoke what tongue could not,
Begging his master on his knee,
Of that dire charge his slave to free.
But the fourth time he came outright;
And then his straits were at the height.
232
For sake of this illustrious maid;
And, when aroused from deep repose,
Full high his pride and choler rose:
“Frotho, begone! By heaven's good light,
I'll hear no more of queens to-night!”
“O king, my message I must tell:
I've served thee long, and served thee well;
But such a task as I have had
For one day more will drive me mad.
My heathbell beer, and cider good—
And two such browsts were never brew'd—
They've pour'd all forth; and now they whine
And yawn, and weep, and cry for wine.
My fish, they say, is food for hogs;
My hams they cast unto the dogs;
And seem united in one plot,
To crave for all that I have not.
And now, to crown these insults high,
The queen desires respectfully,
Her royal ally straight to send
Orders their treatment to amend;
And that 'tis meet her maids and she
Have night apartments separately,
Yet all conjoin'd, for their repose.
What's to be done, great Odin knows!
I've served thee long, and served thee well;
But such a task as I have had
For one day more will drive me mad.
My heathbell beer, and cider good—
And two such browsts were never brew'd—
They've pour'd all forth; and now they whine
And yawn, and weep, and cry for wine.
My fish, they say, is food for hogs;
My hams they cast unto the dogs;
And seem united in one plot,
To crave for all that I have not.
And now, to crown these insults high,
The queen desires respectfully,
Her royal ally straight to send
Orders their treatment to amend;
And that 'tis meet her maids and she
Have night apartments separately,
Yet all conjoin'd, for their repose.
What's to be done, great Odin knows!
“She says your tent's not meet for men,
Nor better than a lion's den;
And high-born dames can't make them lairs
On hides of badgers and of bears:
And, therefore, she intreats you, grant
Them chambers, which they greatly want.
For sake of Heaven, my master kind,
Return that pestilence, Queen Hynde!”
Nor better than a lion's den;
And high-born dames can't make them lairs
On hides of badgers and of bears:
And, therefore, she intreats you, grant
Them chambers, which they greatly want.
For sake of Heaven, my master kind,
Return that pestilence, Queen Hynde!”
“'Tis what she wants,” King Eric said—
“A plot amongst her nobles laid
To win their sacred pledge again:
Such stratagems are my disdain.
No crime to me shall one impute—
I'll keep her, and my word to boot;
And if I fail, all men shall see
From fault of mine it shall not be.
I'll keep her till the time be run,
And the last combat lost or won;
Else she is more to reason blind
Than all the rest of womankind.”
“A plot amongst her nobles laid
To win their sacred pledge again:
Such stratagems are my disdain.
No crime to me shall one impute—
I'll keep her, and my word to boot;
And if I fail, all men shall see
From fault of mine it shall not be.
I'll keep her till the time be run,
And the last combat lost or won;
Else she is more to reason blind
Than all the rest of womankind.”
“Reason, my liege? God bless the word!
She's free of that as of a sword.”
She's free of that as of a sword.”
King Eric rose in growling mood,
And hurrying on his cloak and hood,
Went forth at midnight gallantly,
Beds for these maidens to supply.
A fair arrangement soon was made;
Queen Wene in Haco's tent was laid—
The very spot on earth where she
Wish'd that her residence might be:
Her sprightly lover and his train
Her guards, all rudeness to restrain.
Oh ne'er was maid so blest as Wene!
And hurrying on his cloak and hood,
Went forth at midnight gallantly,
Beds for these maidens to supply.
A fair arrangement soon was made;
Queen Wene in Haco's tent was laid—
The very spot on earth where she
Wish'd that her residence might be:
Her sprightly lover and his train
Her guards, all rudeness to restrain.
Oh ne'er was maid so blest as Wene!
To tell the wiles of loving pairs,
And all the coquetry and airs
Of blooming maids, I do not deign—
Such theme is no delight of mine:
But Haco was in love sincere,
As most of youthful warriors are;
And Wene held hers of higher worth
Than e'er did maiden of the north.
And all the coquetry and airs
Of blooming maids, I do not deign—
Such theme is no delight of mine:
But Haco was in love sincere,
As most of youthful warriors are;
And Wene held hers of higher worth
Than e'er did maiden of the north.
Sooth, they for one another's sake
Were kept for days and nights awake;
And there were fretting, toying, whining,
Jealousies, and inward pining,
Fears what others might discover,
Speaking looks that bless the lover!
Were kept for days and nights awake;
And there were fretting, toying, whining,
Jealousies, and inward pining,
Fears what others might discover,
Speaking looks that bless the lover!
Nor can I half the projects sing,
Which Wene contrived to plague the king;
So much she drove him from his wit,
No suit from her he would admit;
He spent his days 'mid thousands round,
His nights where he could not be found;
And thus the lovers had their leisure
For grief, for strife, for pain, or pleasure.
But darker paths are to be trod,
For darker doings are abroad;
And secrets strange are on the wing,
Which you must list, and I must sing.
Which Wene contrived to plague the king;
So much she drove him from his wit,
No suit from her he would admit;
He spent his days 'mid thousands round,
His nights where he could not be found;
And thus the lovers had their leisure
For grief, for strife, for pain, or pleasure.
But darker paths are to be trod,
For darker doings are abroad;
And secrets strange are on the wing,
Which you must list, and I must sing.
King Eric sat conceal'd, and free
Of woman's importunity,
And to the nobles of his land
Pass'd round the cup with ready hand:
When, lo! the captain of the ward
Brought in a stranger under guard!—
“My liege, here is a churlish wight,
Who craves admission to your sight;
But neither will his name disclose,
Nor whether of our friend or foes;
But so important is his suit,
He will no other tongue depute.”
Of woman's importunity,
And to the nobles of his land
Pass'd round the cup with ready hand:
When, lo! the captain of the ward
Brought in a stranger under guard!—
“My liege, here is a churlish wight,
Who craves admission to your sight;
But neither will his name disclose,
Nor whether of our friend or foes;
But so important is his suit,
He will no other tongue depute.”
“Ay, captain; doubtless one of those,
Who, thrusting his officious nose
Into the affairs of other men,
Presumes their notice to obtain.—
Speak out, intruder—say at once
Thy name, thy business, and from whence?”
Who, thrusting his officious nose
Into the affairs of other men,
Presumes their notice to obtain.—
Speak out, intruder—say at once
Thy name, thy business, and from whence?”
“My name or business few shall hear;
They're for King Eric's private ear.
If thou art he, I deem it fit
That these gruff carles who round thee sit,
Should be dismiss'd; for I have theme
Of which you could not even dream—
It is so base. Perhaps I'll sue
For matters touching maidens too:
That's as I choose; but must request
Your private ear, if so you list.”
They're for King Eric's private ear.
If thou art he, I deem it fit
That these gruff carles who round thee sit,
Should be dismiss'd; for I have theme
Of which you could not even dream—
It is so base. Perhaps I'll sue
For matters touching maidens too:
That's as I choose; but must request
Your private ear, if so you list.”
233
“It is not difficult to guess,
From thy presuming sauciness,
From whom thou comest; but perchance
Thy errand thou shalt miss for once.
Drag forth the knave without the line;
This is no business hour of mine.”
From thy presuming sauciness,
From whom thou comest; but perchance
Thy errand thou shalt miss for once.
Drag forth the knave without the line;
This is no business hour of mine.”
The captain seized the plaided breast
Of this austere and stubborn guest;
But better had his hand withheld—
The stranger's haughty blood rebell'd:
He aim'd a blow so fierce and full
On that rude captain's burly skull,
That down he dropp'd with growlings deep,
Mumbling out oaths as in a sleep.
Of this austere and stubborn guest;
But better had his hand withheld—
The stranger's haughty blood rebell'd:
He aim'd a blow so fierce and full
On that rude captain's burly skull,
That down he dropp'd with growlings deep,
Mumbling out oaths as in a sleep.
“Curse on thy petulance and thee!”
The stranger cried indignantly;
“I stand unarm'd, as knight should do
Who comes before a king to bow,
Else I had given thee, for thy meed,
That which should have laid low thy head
In peace from insult or affray,
Until the final judgment-day.
Here do I stand in Eric's sight,
A messenger in my own right,
Who tidings bring you to your cost;
Refuse them, and your army's lost,
While you shall stand as stocks or poles,
A horde of brainless jobbernoles,
A byword ever to remain:
Dismiss me at your peril and pain.”—
King Eric stood, amazed to see
The stranger's bold effrontery,
And to a chamber led the way,
To listen what such guest would say.
The stranger cried indignantly;
“I stand unarm'd, as knight should do
Who comes before a king to bow,
Else I had given thee, for thy meed,
That which should have laid low thy head
In peace from insult or affray,
Until the final judgment-day.
Here do I stand in Eric's sight,
A messenger in my own right,
Who tidings bring you to your cost;
Refuse them, and your army's lost,
While you shall stand as stocks or poles,
A horde of brainless jobbernoles,
A byword ever to remain:
Dismiss me at your peril and pain.”—
King Eric stood, amazed to see
The stranger's bold effrontery,
And to a chamber led the way,
To listen what such guest would say.
The stranger doff'd his deep disguise,
And show'd to Eric's wondering eyes
A chief he formerly had known,
A traitor to the Scottish throne,
With whom he secret league had framed:
That chief in song must not be named;
Such shame it is to move a hand,
Or utter word, or lift a brand
Against our sacred native land.
Such cursed laurels, and such fame,
Shall blur the face of heaven with shame.
And show'd to Eric's wondering eyes
A chief he formerly had known,
A traitor to the Scottish throne,
With whom he secret league had framed:
That chief in song must not be named;
Such shame it is to move a hand,
Or utter word, or lift a brand
Against our sacred native land.
Such cursed laurels, and such fame,
Shall blur the face of heaven with shame.
“I come to thee, my sovereign lord,
According to my pledged word,”
The traitor said. “In enmity
I fought against thy sway and thee;
My life by thee was saved, and all
My people from Norwegian thrall:
I will requite it, if I may.
Eric, with all thy proud array,
With all thy might, and valour wild,
Thou art as simple as a child.
Thou think'st thou hast within thy tent
A pledge the most magnificent;
The jewel of all earthly things,
The daughter of an hundred kings:
Eric (to Albyn's shame be't said),
Thou nothing hast but waiting maid,
And some few gigglets of the court
Sent forth of thee to make their sport.
According to my pledged word,”
The traitor said. “In enmity
I fought against thy sway and thee;
My life by thee was saved, and all
My people from Norwegian thrall:
I will requite it, if I may.
Eric, with all thy proud array,
With all thy might, and valour wild,
Thou art as simple as a child.
Thou think'st thou hast within thy tent
A pledge the most magnificent;
The jewel of all earthly things,
The daughter of an hundred kings:
Eric (to Albyn's shame be't said),
Thou nothing hast but waiting maid,
And some few gigglets of the court
Sent forth of thee to make their sport.
“The queen is fled, with her the crown,
And all the riches of the town;
Each thing of value is defaced,
Or safely in Dunstaffnage placed;
The guards are set at ford and pier,
And now at thee they laugh and jeer.
The queen by night was borne away—
I bore a hand across the bay,
And viewed the works—the huge fascines,
The fosse, the bridge, the martial lines;
And must confess, ere them you win,
You'll buy all dear that is within.”
And all the riches of the town;
Each thing of value is defaced,
Or safely in Dunstaffnage placed;
The guards are set at ford and pier,
And now at thee they laugh and jeer.
The queen by night was borne away—
I bore a hand across the bay,
And viewed the works—the huge fascines,
The fosse, the bridge, the martial lines;
And must confess, ere them you win,
You'll buy all dear that is within.”
King Eric's rage was too severe
His indignation to declare
In human speech: he look'd around,
And smiled, with eyes cast on the ground;
But when again those eyes were raised,
A flame unearthly in them blazed,
Which, from a face of generous light,
Had something dreadful to the sight.
It was as if the lightning's gleam
Had mingled with the noonday beam—
As ray of heaven and flash of hell
Together upon mortals fell.
His indignation to declare
In human speech: he look'd around,
And smiled, with eyes cast on the ground;
But when again those eyes were raised,
A flame unearthly in them blazed,
Which, from a face of generous light,
Had something dreadful to the sight.
It was as if the lightning's gleam
Had mingled with the noonday beam—
As ray of heaven and flash of hell
Together upon mortals fell.
No word the king had yet express'd,
When other message on him press'd:
Odin's high-priest it was who came,
With bloody hands and bloated frame—
A man who Eric more enchain'd
Than he the serfs o'er whom he reign'd.
And thus he spoke:—“O mighty king,
Some dire events are gathering
Around our heads. The heavenly host
Is wroth, and Norway's army's lost,
Unless these tyrants of the skies
Are straight appeased by sacrifice.
When other message on him press'd:
Odin's high-priest it was who came,
With bloody hands and bloated frame—
A man who Eric more enchain'd
Than he the serfs o'er whom he reign'd.
And thus he spoke:—“O mighty king,
Some dire events are gathering
Around our heads. The heavenly host
Is wroth, and Norway's army's lost,
Unless these tyrants of the skies
Are straight appeased by sacrifice.
“I've sacrificed on Odin's shrine,
And Thor's, and Freya's, nine times nine
Of living creatures, one and all,
On which they feast in Odin's hall;
But all my omens are of death,
And all my answers given in wrath.
Now, mighty king, there's but one meed;
A human sacrifice must bleed.
A solemn offering there must be
Of stainless virgins three times three;
Though all the bounds of Caledon
In search of them should be outgone,
They must be had, whate'er the cost—
Else thou, and I, and all, are lost.
If these are found, in beauty's prime,
And to Valhalla sent in time,
To join the galliardise and noise,
And reap Valhalla's boisterous joys—
I pledge my word, and faith in Heaven,
Ample success shall yet be given
Unto your arms. But, sure as thou
And I are living creatures now,
That rite neglected, all is done,
And mighty Eric's race is run.”
And Thor's, and Freya's, nine times nine
Of living creatures, one and all,
On which they feast in Odin's hall;
But all my omens are of death,
And all my answers given in wrath.
Now, mighty king, there's but one meed;
A human sacrifice must bleed.
A solemn offering there must be
Of stainless virgins three times three;
Though all the bounds of Caledon
In search of them should be outgone,
They must be had, whate'er the cost—
Else thou, and I, and all, are lost.
If these are found, in beauty's prime,
And to Valhalla sent in time,
234
And reap Valhalla's boisterous joys—
I pledge my word, and faith in Heaven,
Ample success shall yet be given
Unto your arms. But, sure as thou
And I are living creatures now,
That rite neglected, all is done,
And mighty Eric's race is run.”
“Sire, I attend thy hest sublime—
Thou ne'er could'st come in better time:
I now have under my control
Twelve virgins, pure of frame and soul;
And thou as freely them shalt have
As e'er thou hadst a worthless slave.
Without the light of Odin's eye,
We're less than nought and vanity;
Then take them all, without debate,
And on thy altars immolate.
Captain, attend my strict behest:
Go forth with Odin's ancient priest,
And guard the altar of the Sun,
Until this great oblation's done;
And whosoever dares control
This high command, or fret, or growl,
Straight cut him off, whate'er he be,
Regardless of his high degree.”
Thou ne'er could'st come in better time:
I now have under my control
Twelve virgins, pure of frame and soul;
And thou as freely them shalt have
As e'er thou hadst a worthless slave.
Without the light of Odin's eye,
We're less than nought and vanity;
Then take them all, without debate,
And on thy altars immolate.
Captain, attend my strict behest:
Go forth with Odin's ancient priest,
And guard the altar of the Sun,
Until this great oblation's done;
And whosoever dares control
This high command, or fret, or growl,
Straight cut him off, whate'er he be,
Regardless of his high degree.”
The priest let fall his ghastful jaw,
When Eric's ireful looks he saw;
He deem'd the order given in jest,
If not in mockery of a priest.
To immolate a sovereign dame,
And hostage maidens without blame,
Was act so ruthless and severe,
As Scania's annals did not bear.
But when he heard the closing threat,
His blood-shot eye became elate;
And through his soul of dark alloy
There darted stern and bloody joy.
When Eric's ireful looks he saw;
He deem'd the order given in jest,
If not in mockery of a priest.
To immolate a sovereign dame,
And hostage maidens without blame,
Was act so ruthless and severe,
As Scania's annals did not bear.
But when he heard the closing threat,
His blood-shot eye became elate;
And through his soul of dark alloy
There darted stern and bloody joy.
As when, in ages long agone,
The sons of God before the throne
Of their almighty Father came,
To pay their vows, and name his name;
And there came one, the rest among,
In hopes that, in the glorious throng,
A skulking vagabond and spy
Might 'scape his lord's omniscient eye—
Think how that felon would appear
When these dread words fell on his ear,
“Whence comest thou?”—Sure then that eye
That once had beam'd in heaven high,
Would be upraised in terror, fierce,
Towards the Lord of the universe!
If that great God had added then,
“Go, seize that righteous, best of men,
My servant Job, with all his kin,
And close them up thy den within
For evermore”—think of the air,
The savage joy, the dark despair,
That would have mingled in the mien
Of face that once had angel's been!
And think, too, of this look below—
This look from type of mankind's foe!
I love to draw a scene to thee
Where misconstruction cannot be,
And spread it to thy spirit's view,
In hopes the mental glass is true.
The sons of God before the throne
Of their almighty Father came,
To pay their vows, and name his name;
And there came one, the rest among,
In hopes that, in the glorious throng,
A skulking vagabond and spy
Might 'scape his lord's omniscient eye—
Think how that felon would appear
When these dread words fell on his ear,
“Whence comest thou?”—Sure then that eye
That once had beam'd in heaven high,
Would be upraised in terror, fierce,
Towards the Lord of the universe!
If that great God had added then,
“Go, seize that righteous, best of men,
My servant Job, with all his kin,
And close them up thy den within
For evermore”—think of the air,
The savage joy, the dark despair,
That would have mingled in the mien
Of face that once had angel's been!
And think, too, of this look below—
This look from type of mankind's foe!
I love to draw a scene to thee
Where misconstruction cannot be,
And spread it to thy spirit's view,
In hopes the mental glass is true.
Eric went forth without delay;
The war-note rang from brake and brae,
And Norway's warriors rush'd with joy
To reave, to ravish, and destroy.
The priest of Odin likewise went
Up to Prince Haco's gaudy tent,
And laid the splendid Wene in thrall,
With her attendant maidens all.
Their feet with silken bands they tied,
Their lily hands down by each side;
Then bathed their bodies in the milk,
And robed them in the damask silk;
While every flower of lovely bloom,
And all that shed the sweet perfume,
In wreaths and fillets richly bound,
Bedeck'd their heads and bodies round.
The red rose of Damascus shed
Down from the brow the tints of red,
O'er faces late in beauty's glow,
But now as pale as winter snow.
The war-note rang from brake and brae,
And Norway's warriors rush'd with joy
To reave, to ravish, and destroy.
The priest of Odin likewise went
Up to Prince Haco's gaudy tent,
And laid the splendid Wene in thrall,
With her attendant maidens all.
Their feet with silken bands they tied,
Their lily hands down by each side;
Then bathed their bodies in the milk,
And robed them in the damask silk;
While every flower of lovely bloom,
And all that shed the sweet perfume,
In wreaths and fillets richly bound,
Bedeck'd their heads and bodies round.
The red rose of Damascus shed
Down from the brow the tints of red,
O'er faces late in beauty's glow,
But now as pale as winter snow.
They were, in sooth, a lovely sight,
Stretch'd side by side in bridal white;
Their lips in prayer to be forgiven;
Their streaming eyes turn'd towards heaven;
While Odin's priest and suffragan
The consecration-work began.
Stretch'd side by side in bridal white;
Their lips in prayer to be forgiven;
Their streaming eyes turn'd towards heaven;
While Odin's priest and suffragan
The consecration-work began.
The bloated heathen cast his eyes
On that benignant sacrifice,
And, lifting up his hands on high,
The briny tear dropp'd from his eye:
It was not for the grievous doom
Of beauty blasted in the bloom,
But at the triumph and delight
Would be in Odin's halls that night.
He thought how his great god would laugh,
And how his warrior ghosts would quaff
Their skull-cups, fill'd unto the brim,
In long and generous healths to him
Who sent them such a lovely store
As warrior ghosts ne'er saw before;
And then he thought, how welcome he
In high Valhalla's dome would be.
On that benignant sacrifice,
And, lifting up his hands on high,
The briny tear dropp'd from his eye:
It was not for the grievous doom
Of beauty blasted in the bloom,
But at the triumph and delight
Would be in Odin's halls that night.
He thought how his great god would laugh,
And how his warrior ghosts would quaff
Their skull-cups, fill'd unto the brim,
In long and generous healths to him
Who sent them such a lovely store
As warrior ghosts ne'er saw before;
And then he thought, how welcome he
In high Valhalla's dome would be.
Great God! 'tis thou alone can'st scan
Thy lingering, longing creature—man;
Who from the time that reason's ray
Beams from his eye on nature's sway,
Still onward must insatiate press
To unknown state of blissfulness.
One summit gain'd, how many more?
Before! before! 'tis still before,
But must be reach'd; till grasping far
Beyond the range of sun and star,
He rears himself a heavenly home,
In glory's everlasting dome.
Thy lingering, longing creature—man;
Who from the time that reason's ray
Beams from his eye on nature's sway,
Still onward must insatiate press
To unknown state of blissfulness.
One summit gain'd, how many more?
Before! before! 'tis still before,
235
Beyond the range of sun and star,
He rears himself a heavenly home,
In glory's everlasting dome.
Still must that state, to be believed,
Be something dark and unconceived;
And, distant far, involved must be
In shadows of futurity:—
Our Caledonian sires of yore
Look'd upward to their mountains hoar,
As to the place they loved the best
For home of everlasting rest;
And there, within his shroud of mist,
The rude, romantic sciolist
Hoped with the souls of friends to meet,
And roam in conversation sweet;
Or on his downy bark to sail,
High o'er the billows of the gale.
The Scandinavian look'd before
For wine and wassail, ramp and roar;
For virgins radiant as the sun,
And triumphs ever, ever won;
For revels on the fields above,
And maddening joys which warriors love.
But now, where rests the morbid eye
Of sceptical philosophy?
On the cold grave; and only this—
Worms, dust, and final nothingness!
Great God! within this world of thine,
Is there a human soul divine
That hopes no further bliss to scan!
How dark the question, “What is man?”—
What he hath been, the world can see;
Thou only know'st what he shall be!
Be something dark and unconceived;
And, distant far, involved must be
In shadows of futurity:—
Our Caledonian sires of yore
Look'd upward to their mountains hoar,
As to the place they loved the best
For home of everlasting rest;
And there, within his shroud of mist,
The rude, romantic sciolist
Hoped with the souls of friends to meet,
And roam in conversation sweet;
Or on his downy bark to sail,
High o'er the billows of the gale.
The Scandinavian look'd before
For wine and wassail, ramp and roar;
For virgins radiant as the sun,
And triumphs ever, ever won;
For revels on the fields above,
And maddening joys which warriors love.
But now, where rests the morbid eye
Of sceptical philosophy?
On the cold grave; and only this—
Worms, dust, and final nothingness!
Great God! within this world of thine,
Is there a human soul divine
That hopes no further bliss to scan!
How dark the question, “What is man?”—
What he hath been, the world can see;
Thou only know'st what he shall be!
While this ecstatic rite went on,
The battle raged in Beregon.
With Eric's host the day went hard,
Which caused the holy altar's guard
To be withdrawn. A virgin's prayer
No passing gale can waft in air
From its high aim: the gods are kind,
And lover's eyes are ill to blind.
The battle raged in Beregon.
With Eric's host the day went hard,
Which caused the holy altar's guard
To be withdrawn. A virgin's prayer
No passing gale can waft in air
From its high aim: the gods are kind,
And lover's eyes are ill to blind.
Prince Haco, from the battle-field,
The stir within the camp beheld—
For still his eyes unconscious moved
Toward the treasure which he loved—
And sore he fear'd mischance might fall
To Albyn's queen and maidens all.
He sent a friend, whose truth he knew,
That scene of bustle to review,
And bring him word. Short then the space
Ere Haco vanish'd from his place,
And more with him, for there was need
Of ardent lover's utmost speed.
The stir within the camp beheld—
For still his eyes unconscious moved
Toward the treasure which he loved—
And sore he fear'd mischance might fall
To Albyn's queen and maidens all.
He sent a friend, whose truth he knew,
That scene of bustle to review,
And bring him word. Short then the space
Ere Haco vanish'd from his place,
And more with him, for there was need
Of ardent lover's utmost speed.
Wene in life's bustle took delight,
Whether in frolic or despite;
And even this splendid sacrifice
Held some enchantment to her eyes;
The robes, the flowers, the proud display,
The pallid forms that round her lay,
Whom Wene from year to year had known
To frolic prone, and that alone.
Though sore beset, she felt delight,
Some sly enjoyment, at their plight;
For still she deem'd that honour's law
So dire a warrant would withdraw.
Whether in frolic or despite;
And even this splendid sacrifice
Held some enchantment to her eyes;
The robes, the flowers, the proud display,
The pallid forms that round her lay,
Whom Wene from year to year had known
To frolic prone, and that alone.
Though sore beset, she felt delight,
Some sly enjoyment, at their plight;
For still she deem'd that honour's law
So dire a warrant would withdraw.
But when the priests their hymns had sung,
And their white robes aside had flung;
When from long words they came to deeds;
Had laid their hands on victims' heads,
And sacred fire deposed the while,
To set on flame that lofty pile;
Good sooth! but Wene thought it was time
For her best wits to be in prime;
And straight she brought them to the test—
They ne'er could be in more request.
And their white robes aside had flung;
When from long words they came to deeds;
Had laid their hands on victims' heads,
And sacred fire deposed the while,
To set on flame that lofty pile;
Good sooth! but Wene thought it was time
For her best wits to be in prime;
And straight she brought them to the test—
They ne'er could be in more request.
Soon as the rapt and ruthless priest
Had strew'd the death-dew on her breast,
(An ointment rich in heavenly worth,
And fragrance of the flowery north;)
And said the words that they were all
To say on entering Odin's hall,
Wene thus, with sharp and cutting speech,
Presumed the pedagogues to teach:—
Had strew'd the death-dew on her breast,
(An ointment rich in heavenly worth,
And fragrance of the flowery north;)
And said the words that they were all
To say on entering Odin's hall,
Wene thus, with sharp and cutting speech,
Presumed the pedagogues to teach:—
“List me, thou priest of Scania's land,
And dolts that drudge at his command;
If you dare Christian maidens send
To Odin's hall, 'tis at an end—
Valhalla falls! And, take my word,
His godship of the shield and sword
From heaven descends with all his crew,
Driven headlong from yon vales of blue,
A banish'd, branded, broken corps,
Doom'd to disturb the heavens no more.
And dolts that drudge at his command;
If you dare Christian maidens send
To Odin's hall, 'tis at an end—
Valhalla falls! And, take my word,
His godship of the shield and sword
From heaven descends with all his crew,
Driven headlong from yon vales of blue,
A banish'd, branded, broken corps,
Doom'd to disturb the heavens no more.
“A sacred sovereign, just and true,
Should better know these things than you;
For God's vicegerent must have wit
What the Supreme approves as fit;
And this is truth. If you would please
Great Odin, and his wrath appease,
Preserve us lovely, living things,
An offering to your King of kings.
For, should you dare suppose that he,
A god, so brutalized could be,
As in dead virgin to delight
More than in living beauty bright,
You shall stand beacons of his scorn,
And rue the time that you were born!
Should better know these things than you;
For God's vicegerent must have wit
What the Supreme approves as fit;
And this is truth. If you would please
Great Odin, and his wrath appease,
Preserve us lovely, living things,
An offering to your King of kings.
For, should you dare suppose that he,
A god, so brutalized could be,
As in dead virgin to delight
More than in living beauty bright,
You shall stand beacons of his scorn,
And rue the time that you were born!
“But what is more; though Eric, blind
With anger, hath to you consign'd
Me and my maidens, to disgrace
The faith of Odin's kingly race;
On this rely: his ire and hate
Will turn on you when all too late;
For on his name you fix a stain
That ne'er can be wash'd out again.
Think of a sovereign's sacred blood;
And for a word in churlish mood
Dare not to break through law divine,
And bring a curse on all your line;
That curse that rends from Heaven's fair grace,
Pronounced by all the human race.”
With anger, hath to you consign'd
Me and my maidens, to disgrace
The faith of Odin's kingly race;
On this rely: his ire and hate
Will turn on you when all too late;
For on his name you fix a stain
That ne'er can be wash'd out again.
236
And for a word in churlish mood
Dare not to break through law divine,
And bring a curse on all your line;
That curse that rends from Heaven's fair grace,
Pronounced by all the human race.”
At the first part of Wene's address
The priesthood smiled in scornfulness,
But the last part appear'd too true,
Even to their own distorted view.
They paused, and whisper'd round the pile,
Keeping the flame subdued the while.
The virgins cried aloud to God
To look down from his blest abode,
And for his sake, who took the scorn
Of earthly virgin to be born,
Regard their peril and their grief,
And in his mercy send relief.
The priest of Odin was distress'd,
But to proceed he judged it best;
Though reason show'd the thing unjust,
These Christian prayers were ne'er to trust.
The priesthood smiled in scornfulness,
But the last part appear'd too true,
Even to their own distorted view.
They paused, and whisper'd round the pile,
Keeping the flame subdued the while.
The virgins cried aloud to God
To look down from his blest abode,
And for his sake, who took the scorn
Of earthly virgin to be born,
Regard their peril and their grief,
And in his mercy send relief.
The priest of Odin was distress'd,
But to proceed he judged it best;
Though reason show'd the thing unjust,
These Christian prayers were ne'er to trust.
The flame unto the pile was set,
But seem'd to mount in slow regret;
Reluctantly, from spray to spray,
It crackled, hiss'd, and crept away.
The smoke arose in writhing pain,
Then bent its course to earth again,
As if affrighten'd to bedim
The snowy robe and tender limb;
A throe of hesitation dumb
Seem'd struggling not to be o'ercome.
But seem'd to mount in slow regret;
Reluctantly, from spray to spray,
It crackled, hiss'd, and crept away.
The smoke arose in writhing pain,
Then bent its course to earth again,
As if affrighten'd to bedim
The snowy robe and tender limb;
A throe of hesitation dumb
Seem'd struggling not to be o'ercome.
Bless'd be the power of maiden's tongue,
Aye, in the lovely and the young,
Supreme; and blest the shrewd surmise
That marr'd this odious sacrifice!
Before the prayer of rueful Wene
Had half-way reach'd the last Amen;
Before the blaze had half-way won
Around the altar of the Sun,
The gods, or men, contrived so well
(For which the priests could never tell)
To send relief, that at one bound
It seem'd to spring from out the ground.
A rapid rush of clansmen true,
In tartans dark, and bonnets blue,
Sprung on the pile as on a prey,
And bore the sacrifice away.
The priests were hurtled to a side,
And with the fetters firmly tied;
Then up the flame rose to the sky,
Without a human groan or cry;
While Odin's servants lay amazed,
And on the bloodless offering gazed.
Aye, in the lovely and the young,
Supreme; and blest the shrewd surmise
That marr'd this odious sacrifice!
Before the prayer of rueful Wene
Had half-way reach'd the last Amen;
Before the blaze had half-way won
Around the altar of the Sun,
The gods, or men, contrived so well
(For which the priests could never tell)
To send relief, that at one bound
It seem'd to spring from out the ground.
A rapid rush of clansmen true,
In tartans dark, and bonnets blue,
Sprung on the pile as on a prey,
And bore the sacrifice away.
The priests were hurtled to a side,
And with the fetters firmly tied;
Then up the flame rose to the sky,
Without a human groan or cry;
While Odin's servants lay amazed,
And on the bloodless offering gazed.
Within the tents, or them behind,
Swift as an image of the mind,
The clansmen vanish'd from the scene,
As quickly as their rise had been;
Each bearing virgin on his arm,
Panting with joy and wild alarm,
Their forms bedeck'd with many a wreath,
And all the bridal robes of death.
Swift as an image of the mind,
The clansmen vanish'd from the scene,
As quickly as their rise had been;
Each bearing virgin on his arm,
Panting with joy and wild alarm,
Their forms bedeck'd with many a wreath,
And all the bridal robes of death.
The men were arm'd with sword and shield;
And, as the priests lay on the field,
Full sore they wonder'd how they fared
So well; and why their lives were spared;
And how it happ'd their enemies
Had not made them the sacrifice.
But there they lay, safe and alone,
And the mysterious troop was gone
Without a word of threat or dare;
They could not tell from whence they were;
If by the sea or air they went,
Or if by man or angel sent!
But this most shrewd conjecture rose,
On priest's conception comatose,
That these gods of the Christian crew
Somewhat of earthly matters knew.
And, as the priests lay on the field,
Full sore they wonder'd how they fared
So well; and why their lives were spared;
And how it happ'd their enemies
Had not made them the sacrifice.
But there they lay, safe and alone,
And the mysterious troop was gone
Without a word of threat or dare;
They could not tell from whence they were;
If by the sea or air they went,
Or if by man or angel sent!
But this most shrewd conjecture rose,
On priest's conception comatose,
That these gods of the Christian crew
Somewhat of earthly matters knew.
But all this while, from side to side,
The battle roll'd like swelling tide;
Now southward, bearing all before,
Now north, with eddy and with roar.
It raged in every lane and street,
And space where foemen chanced to meet.
There was no foot of hallow'd ground,
The regal Beregonium round,
That, ere the setting of the sun,
Was, inch by inch, not lost and won.
The battle roll'd like swelling tide;
Now southward, bearing all before,
Now north, with eddy and with roar.
It raged in every lane and street,
And space where foemen chanced to meet.
There was no foot of hallow'd ground,
The regal Beregonium round,
That, ere the setting of the sun,
Was, inch by inch, not lost and won.
The men of Moray, cautious still,
Kept by the rampart of the hill,
And hurl'd their javelins afar,
Sore galling the Norwegian war;
But the fierce clansmen of the north,
And western tribes, of equal worth,
Rush'd to the fight withouten awe,
Whene'er a foeman's face they saw,
And grievous was the slaughter then,
Among the bravest Scottish men.
Kept by the rampart of the hill,
And hurl'd their javelins afar,
Sore galling the Norwegian war;
But the fierce clansmen of the north,
And western tribes, of equal worth,
Rush'd to the fight withouten awe,
Whene'er a foeman's face they saw,
And grievous was the slaughter then,
Among the bravest Scottish men.
Oh what a waste of mortal life!
And what a stern and stormy strife
Prevail'd around, as far it spread,
Reeling, as warriors fought or fled!
Not then, as now, met mortal foes
In phalanx firm, to wheel and close,
Trying to win by warrior sleight,
Manœuvring by the left or right—
In those rude days they closed amain,
Fought shield to shield upon the plain;
And the more hot the battle glow'd,
The farther was it shed abroad;
Till every warrior, as might be,
Fought one with one, with two, or three;
And one resistless hero's hand
Oft bore the honours from a band.
And what a stern and stormy strife
Prevail'd around, as far it spread,
Reeling, as warriors fought or fled!
Not then, as now, met mortal foes
In phalanx firm, to wheel and close,
Trying to win by warrior sleight,
Manœuvring by the left or right—
In those rude days they closed amain,
Fought shield to shield upon the plain;
And the more hot the battle glow'd,
The farther was it shed abroad;
Till every warrior, as might be,
Fought one with one, with two, or three;
And one resistless hero's hand
Oft bore the honours from a band.
So was it there; the battle's roar
Spread all along the level shore;
The city lanes were too confined,
Men had not scope unto their mind;
And forth they issued, west around
The citadel, on level ground;
And there, in motley mortal coil,
Went on the battle's bloody toil.
Spread all along the level shore;
237
Men had not scope unto their mind;
And forth they issued, west around
The citadel, on level ground;
And there, in motley mortal coil,
Went on the battle's bloody toil.
Gods! how King Eric's sovereign wrath
Peopled the ghostly vales of death!
Where'er his rapid course he turn'd,
With deadlier heat the combat burn'd;
Forward, around, where Eric came,
There roar'd the vortex of the flame.
'Twas like the whirlwind's rolling ire
Careering through a field of fire,
Rending and tossing, as in play,
The thundering element away.
Peopled the ghostly vales of death!
Where'er his rapid course he turn'd,
With deadlier heat the combat burn'd;
Forward, around, where Eric came,
There roar'd the vortex of the flame.
'Twas like the whirlwind's rolling ire
Careering through a field of fire,
Rending and tossing, as in play,
The thundering element away.
There was a chief of Albyn's land,
Of proud renown, hight Coulan Brande,
Who held his sway by forest stern,
And many a mountain dark and dern,
From where the Lwin meets the tide,
To proud Ben-Airley's shaggy side;
That land of red-deer and of roe,
Possess'd by the great Gordon now.
Of proud renown, hight Coulan Brande,
Who held his sway by forest stern,
And many a mountain dark and dern,
From where the Lwin meets the tide,
To proud Ben-Airley's shaggy side;
That land of red-deer and of roe,
Possess'd by the great Gordon now.
That chief had borne his honours far,
Amid the waning southern war;
And his red balachs of the hill
The foremost in the broil were still.
Ill brook'd he the degrading sight
Of that deray, by Eric's might;
The vortex came like rolling tide;
Brande call'd his followers to his side,
And bade them open and give ground
Till Eric pass'd, then wheel around,
And close upon his giant train,
Their ruthless ravage to restrain.
Amid the waning southern war;
And his red balachs of the hill
The foremost in the broil were still.
Ill brook'd he the degrading sight
Of that deray, by Eric's might;
The vortex came like rolling tide;
Brande call'd his followers to his side,
And bade them open and give ground
Till Eric pass'd, then wheel around,
And close upon his giant train,
Their ruthless ravage to restrain.
“Press on them hard; retreat be none;
Be work like that of warriors done.
Let me behold no broad claymore
That is not stain'd with foeman's gore;
Let me behold no buckler's face
That is not clour'd with sword or mace.
And could you sever from his train
That Hector of the northern main;
Then, by my Ciothar's lofty crest,
That props the heaven's own holy breast,
And by that heaven's uplifted dome,
The warrior's everlasting home,
This sword shall make that hero's brow
Stoop lowlier than his footstep now!”
Be work like that of warriors done.
Let me behold no broad claymore
That is not stain'd with foeman's gore;
Let me behold no buckler's face
That is not clour'd with sword or mace.
And could you sever from his train
That Hector of the northern main;
Then, by my Ciothar's lofty crest,
That props the heaven's own holy breast,
And by that heaven's uplifted dome,
The warrior's everlasting home,
This sword shall make that hero's brow
Stoop lowlier than his footstep now!”
Alongst the field King Eric flew,
The boldest from his brand withdrew;
Red desolation mark'd his track;
For his fierce veterans, at his back,
On either side were hard bestead,
Where gallant foeman fought and bled,
Along the midst of Coulan's train.
Oh dreadful grew the conflict then!
For the red balachs of the fell,
With shout, with clangour, and with yell,
Rush'd on the Norse from either hill,
And sore, with broadsword and with bill,
Gall'd the array of that fierce train,
Who, back to back, could scarce sustain,
Upon their long outlengthen'd line,
The claymore and the brigantine;
For every man that Coulan led
Had his broad breast with bull's-hide clad.
The boldest from his brand withdrew;
Red desolation mark'd his track;
For his fierce veterans, at his back,
On either side were hard bestead,
Where gallant foeman fought and bled,
Along the midst of Coulan's train.
Oh dreadful grew the conflict then!
For the red balachs of the fell,
With shout, with clangour, and with yell,
Rush'd on the Norse from either hill,
And sore, with broadsword and with bill,
Gall'd the array of that fierce train,
Who, back to back, could scarce sustain,
Upon their long outlengthen'd line,
The claymore and the brigantine;
For every man that Coulan led
Had his broad breast with bull's-hide clad.
But Eric, reckless oft of life,
Press'd forward in the bloody strife,
Till so it happ'd, his train out-gone,
There was he left to fight alone.
Coulan perceived, with joyous thought,
The chance had come for which he sought;
Longer the strife he could not shun,
Something illustrious must be done;
Either his life he must lay down,
Or raise his name to great renown.
Then rousing all his energies
To this momentous enterprise,
Shaking his javelin and claymore,
He took his stand the king before.
Press'd forward in the bloody strife,
Till so it happ'd, his train out-gone,
There was he left to fight alone.
Coulan perceived, with joyous thought,
The chance had come for which he sought;
Longer the strife he could not shun,
Something illustrious must be done;
Either his life he must lay down,
Or raise his name to great renown.
Then rousing all his energies
To this momentous enterprise,
Shaking his javelin and claymore,
He took his stand the king before.
“Oppressor of a guiltless land,
Presumptuous spoiler, stay thy hand,”
He cried, “and hear the truth severe,
That shall not quail for monarch's ear!
Say, is thy soul not darker now
Than e'er was Ethiop's sable brow,
Distain'd with every human crime,
That blotted has the rolls of time?
Detested persecutor! who
But thee would manhood's claim forego,
By raising war and breaking sooth
With beauty, innocence, and youth?
And, if no lies are on the wind,
With sacrifice of dreadful kind?
Thou monster! loathed be thy name
By all that bear the human frame!
Thy race is run, thy hour at hand,
God speed the shaft of Coulan Brande!”
Presumptuous spoiler, stay thy hand,”
He cried, “and hear the truth severe,
That shall not quail for monarch's ear!
Say, is thy soul not darker now
Than e'er was Ethiop's sable brow,
Distain'd with every human crime,
That blotted has the rolls of time?
Detested persecutor! who
But thee would manhood's claim forego,
By raising war and breaking sooth
With beauty, innocence, and youth?
And, if no lies are on the wind,
With sacrifice of dreadful kind?
Thou monster! loathed be thy name
By all that bear the human frame!
Thy race is run, thy hour at hand,
God speed the shaft of Coulan Brande!”
With that his brazen javelin true,
With all his mountain might he threw,
And steady aim that might to tell,
But short the winged weapon fell;
For to his left wrist it was tied
With plaited thong of badger's hide;
And swifter than a mind can frame,
Unpractised in that warlike game,
He haul'd it back, and threw, and threw
With force increased, as nigh he drew.
With all his mountain might he threw,
And steady aim that might to tell,
But short the winged weapon fell;
For to his left wrist it was tied
With plaited thong of badger's hide;
And swifter than a mind can frame,
Unpractised in that warlike game,
He haul'd it back, and threw, and threw
With force increased, as nigh he drew.
Eric was gall'd, his ire arose;
For faster, fiercer, came the blows,
Without impediment or let,
From that aerial dragonet.
It pierced his gorget and his gear,
Stunning his brow and sovereign ear;
Yet farther durst he not advance,
But check'd his own precipitance;
For all his valour and his rage
Were temper'd by reflection sage.
He foam'd with ire, then plunged amain,
Like restive steed that scorns the rein,
But saw, if once his men he left,
An hundred balachs, stern and deft,
Watching with keen and eager eye,
Unto their leader's aid to fly;
And with a smile of fierce disdain,
He back drew to his lines again.
For faster, fiercer, came the blows,
Without impediment or let,
From that aerial dragonet.
238
Stunning his brow and sovereign ear;
Yet farther durst he not advance,
But check'd his own precipitance;
For all his valour and his rage
Were temper'd by reflection sage.
He foam'd with ire, then plunged amain,
Like restive steed that scorns the rein,
But saw, if once his men he left,
An hundred balachs, stern and deft,
Watching with keen and eager eye,
Unto their leader's aid to fly;
And with a smile of fierce disdain,
He back drew to his lines again.
Loud shouted Brande's obstreperous horde,
Lauding their brave and matchless lord,
Who, in the splendour of his might,
In single combat had outright
Put the great northern king to flight.
Lauding their brave and matchless lord,
Who, in the splendour of his might,
In single combat had outright
Put the great northern king to flight.
What vengeance Eric pour'd around,
Where'er a combatant he found
That dared the strife! and many a brave
And gallant knight found timeless grave.
Oft did his glance embrace the strand,
In search of haughty Coulan Brande,
Who on his name had cast a stain
That would not well wash out again;—
Alas! he knew not, nor could see
How much more deep that stain would be!
Where'er a combatant he found
That dared the strife! and many a brave
And gallant knight found timeless grave.
Oft did his glance embrace the strand,
In search of haughty Coulan Brande,
Who on his name had cast a stain
That would not well wash out again;—
Alas! he knew not, nor could see
How much more deep that stain would be!
Brande of his fortune was so proud,
The very ground on which he stood
He seem'd to spurn, as o'er the war
His eye roll'd loftily afar.
This, Donald Bane, his neighbour sly,
Beheld, and strode up hastily,
And said these words, for clansmen near
Each other's pride could never bear:—
The very ground on which he stood
He seem'd to spurn, as o'er the war
His eye roll'd loftily afar.
This, Donald Bane, his neighbour sly,
Beheld, and strode up hastily,
And said these words, for clansmen near
Each other's pride could never bear:—
“Oh gallant Brande, make haste, advance;
For none, save thee, with sword or lance,
Can check yon scourge of Scotia's host;
Advance, or Albyn's banner's lost!
Gillespick's down; Clan-Gillan's broke;
Lochourn leans o'er his tarnish'd oak;
My brother Allan keeps aloof,
Trustless of arm and armour's proof;
The field's laid waste!—Oh, Brande, there's none
Can turn that tide but thou alone.”
For none, save thee, with sword or lance,
Can check yon scourge of Scotia's host;
Advance, or Albyn's banner's lost!
Gillespick's down; Clan-Gillan's broke;
Lochourn leans o'er his tarnish'd oak;
My brother Allan keeps aloof,
Trustless of arm and armour's proof;
The field's laid waste!—Oh, Brande, there's none
Can turn that tide but thou alone.”
“Reptiles!” cried Brande, and forth he flew,
Curling his lip, and eke his brow,
Straight onward, Eric to amate;
Yet, there was something in his gait
That show'd reluctance to the way;
A hurry, mingled with delay,
Perhaps an omen ill defined,
A darksome boding of the mind.
Curling his lip, and eke his brow,
Straight onward, Eric to amate;
Yet, there was something in his gait
That show'd reluctance to the way;
A hurry, mingled with delay,
Perhaps an omen ill defined,
A darksome boding of the mind.
As ever you saw a fiery steed
Eyeing the path with wistful dread,
And eyes with gleams of fury glancing,
Wheeling, snorting, rearing, prancing;
Till, lashed amain, away he breaks,
The steep ascent with fury takes,
And, panting, foaming, flounders on,
Until, his strength and spirits gone,
Straining to do more than he can,
Down rush the chariot, horse, and man.
Eyeing the path with wistful dread,
And eyes with gleams of fury glancing,
Wheeling, snorting, rearing, prancing;
Till, lashed amain, away he breaks,
The steep ascent with fury takes,
And, panting, foaming, flounders on,
Until, his strength and spirits gone,
Straining to do more than he can,
Down rush the chariot, horse, and man.
So was it now with Coulan Brande,
The Lord of Lwin's forest land,
The hunter proud of Garnachoy,
Of Laggan, Lurich, and Glen-Roy.
Goaded along, he cross'd the field,
Uprear'd his sword, advanced his shield,
And straight in front of Eric ran,
And thus address'd the godlike man:—
The Lord of Lwin's forest land,
The hunter proud of Garnachoy,
Of Laggan, Lurich, and Glen-Roy.
Goaded along, he cross'd the field,
Uprear'd his sword, advanced his shield,
And straight in front of Eric ran,
And thus address'd the godlike man:—
“Traitor, methought that I had once
Given thee to know thy puissance
Not matchless was. Why wilt thou then
Come fuming 'mid ignoble men,
Staining thy brand with boorish blood?
Tyrant, this braggart lustihood
Becomes thee not. Desist, for shame!
Here stands thy conqueror, thee to tame.”
Given thee to know thy puissance
Not matchless was. Why wilt thou then
Come fuming 'mid ignoble men,
Staining thy brand with boorish blood?
Tyrant, this braggart lustihood
Becomes thee not. Desist, for shame!
Here stands thy conqueror, thee to tame.”
Eric laugh'd loud; both cliff and shaw
Made answer to his keen ha, ha!
No more he said, but sword in hand
He ruthless rush'd on Coulan Brande;
Furious upon the chief he came,
Trowing his mountain might to tame
At the first blow; but tale he lost,
And reckon'd once without his host.
Made answer to his keen ha, ha!
No more he said, but sword in hand
He ruthless rush'd on Coulan Brande;
Furious upon the chief he came,
Trowing his mountain might to tame
At the first blow; but tale he lost,
And reckon'd once without his host.
Brande his broad buckler managed so,
That Eric's furious rush and blow
Were borne aside with science yare,
And Eric spent his force in air;
So freely spent, that, on the strand,
Forward he stumbled o'er his brand;
And since his restless life began,
Such perilous risk it never ran.
That Eric's furious rush and blow
Were borne aside with science yare,
And Eric spent his force in air;
So freely spent, that, on the strand,
Forward he stumbled o'er his brand;
And since his restless life began,
Such perilous risk it never ran.
Brande was too brave of soul and mind
To strike a prostrate foe behind;
Else doubt is none, that, in that strife,
Low at his steps lay Eric's life;
And kinsmen ever blamed the hand
That nail'd him not to Scotia's strand.
To strike a prostrate foe behind;
Else doubt is none, that, in that strife,
Low at his steps lay Eric's life;
And kinsmen ever blamed the hand
That nail'd him not to Scotia's strand.
Eric arose; his cheek was flush'd;
With shame the mighty monarch blush'd,
In such an onset thus to be
Outdone, and more in courtesy;
The pangs he felt were so severe,
They were too much for him to bear;
And wish from these his heart to free,
Had nearly brought him to his knee;
But pride of rank, and pride of name,
His brilliant and untarnish'd fame,
Muster'd around without control,
And whisper'd vengeance to his soul.
He rose and turn'd upon his foe;
Brande all undaunted met the blow;
And in the combat that ensued,
Show'd equal might and fortitude.
With shame the mighty monarch blush'd,
In such an onset thus to be
Outdone, and more in courtesy;
The pangs he felt were so severe,
They were too much for him to bear;
And wish from these his heart to free,
Had nearly brought him to his knee;
But pride of rank, and pride of name,
His brilliant and untarnish'd fame,
239
And whisper'd vengeance to his soul.
He rose and turn'd upon his foe;
Brande all undaunted met the blow;
And in the combat that ensued,
Show'd equal might and fortitude.
The king rush'd in, with guard and clasp,
And, trusting to his powerful grasp,
From which no single force could free,
He closed with Brande impetuously;
And seizing on his gorget fast,
With wrench that giant force surpass'd,
He snapp'd the clasps of burnish'd steel;
And casque and cuirass, to his heel,
Came off with jangle and with clang,
And on the level roll'd and rang.
And, trusting to his powerful grasp,
From which no single force could free,
He closed with Brande impetuously;
And seizing on his gorget fast,
With wrench that giant force surpass'd,
He snapp'd the clasps of burnish'd steel;
And casque and cuirass, to his heel,
Came off with jangle and with clang,
And on the level roll'd and rang.
Brande turn'd to fly, for, in a word,
His buckler too, if not his sword,
Had in that struggle fall'n or broke;
He turn'd to fly; but at a stroke
Eric, while at his utmost speed,
Sheer from his body hew'd his head.
Far roll'd the bloody pate away;
The body ran, without a stay,
A furlong in that guise uncouth;
So said the Norse, and swore it truth!
His buckler too, if not his sword,
Had in that struggle fall'n or broke;
He turn'd to fly; but at a stroke
Eric, while at his utmost speed,
Sheer from his body hew'd his head.
Far roll'd the bloody pate away;
The body ran, without a stay,
A furlong in that guise uncouth;
So said the Norse, and swore it truth!
The shouts of subjects from each side
Aroused the hero's warrior pride—
A moment roused it; but anon
On his brown cheek the tear-drop shone,
And throbs, that in his bosom's cell
Heaved like an earthquake, told too well
How sore he rued the ruthless blow
Inflicted on so brave a foe,
To whose high generous soul he owed
A life most haplessly bestow'd;
And, like a man from dream awoke,
These words he rather groan'd than spoke:
“Ah! how this laurel galls my brow!
Eric ne'er vanquish'd was till now.”
Aroused the hero's warrior pride—
A moment roused it; but anon
On his brown cheek the tear-drop shone,
And throbs, that in his bosom's cell
Heaved like an earthquake, told too well
How sore he rued the ruthless blow
Inflicted on so brave a foe,
To whose high generous soul he owed
A life most haplessly bestow'd;
And, like a man from dream awoke,
These words he rather groan'd than spoke:
“Ah! how this laurel galls my brow!
Eric ne'er vanquish'd was till now.”
The battle now had spread away
Round all the friths of Keila bay—
Parties with adverse parties meeting,
And both sides losing and defeating.
Where chief 'gainst adverse chief prevail'd,
Their partial success never fail'd;
And braver feats were never done
Than were that day round Beregon;
Nor more illustrious were the slain—
No, not on Ilium's classic plain.
Round all the friths of Keila bay—
Parties with adverse parties meeting,
And both sides losing and defeating.
Where chief 'gainst adverse chief prevail'd,
Their partial success never fail'd;
And braver feats were never done
Than were that day round Beregon;
Nor more illustrious were the slain—
No, not on Ilium's classic plain.
The chiefs that most distinguish'd shone
In that dire day's confusion
Were Allan Bane, who, 'mid the war,
O'erthrew the giant Osnagar
Despite the monster's might in weir,
And execrations dread to hear:
Roaring and cursing his decay,
He foam'd his savage soul away.
In that dire day's confusion
Were Allan Bane, who, 'mid the war,
O'erthrew the giant Osnagar
Despite the monster's might in weir,
And execrations dread to hear:
Roaring and cursing his decay,
He foam'd his savage soul away.
And the brave Lord of Sutherland,
Of dauntless heart, and steady hand,
Never, in all that bloody coil,
Engaged with foe he did not foil;
A Finnish prince and Danish lord
Both sunk beneath his heavy sword;
And all their buskin'd followers fierce,
Dismay'd at such a stern reverse,
Before the men of Navern dale
Fled like the chaff before the gale.
Of dauntless heart, and steady hand,
Never, in all that bloody coil,
Engaged with foe he did not foil;
A Finnish prince and Danish lord
Both sunk beneath his heavy sword;
And all their buskin'd followers fierce,
Dismay'd at such a stern reverse,
Before the men of Navern dale
Fled like the chaff before the gale.
Intrepid Gaul, the Lord of Tain,
And Ross's wild and wide domain,
Bore on with unresisted sway;
He seem'd some demon of dismay,
That through the ranks of Scania's war
Bore desolation fierce and far;
His hideous face was grisly grim,
His form distorted every limb;
Yet his robust and nervous arm
Laid warriors low as by a charm—
For that rude form contain'd a mind
Above the rest of human kind.
And Ross's wild and wide domain,
Bore on with unresisted sway;
He seem'd some demon of dismay,
That through the ranks of Scania's war
Bore desolation fierce and far;
His hideous face was grisly grim,
His form distorted every limb;
Yet his robust and nervous arm
Laid warriors low as by a charm—
For that rude form contain'd a mind
Above the rest of human kind.
Distress'd by Brande's unworthy fate,
Eric drew off ere it was late,
Scowling and sobbing by the way,
Like warrior that had lost the day;
And oft repeating, as before,
These words, that grieved his captains sore:
“Eric is conquer'd at the last!
His day of victory is o'erpast;
A conquest ne'er to be believed,
Reversed, remitted, nor retrieved!”
Eric drew off ere it was late,
Scowling and sobbing by the way,
Like warrior that had lost the day;
And oft repeating, as before,
These words, that grieved his captains sore:
“Eric is conquer'd at the last!
His day of victory is o'erpast;
A conquest ne'er to be believed,
Reversed, remitted, nor retrieved!”
The gathering trumpets' lordly sound
Gather'd his scatter'd bands around,
And from a fiercer, bloodier fray,
That note ne'er call'd his troops away;
For, though the 'vantage they had won,
Never was Eric so outdone.
Gather'd his scatter'd bands around,
And from a fiercer, bloodier fray,
That note ne'er call'd his troops away;
For, though the 'vantage they had won,
Never was Eric so outdone.
The pride of Albyn's mountain strand,
The great emporium of the land,
The royal city now was lost,
And occupied by Eric's host;
The seven high towers of Selma too,
Alas! were all abandon'd now,
That for a thousand years had stood,
Circled by mountain, cliff, and flood,
And ne'er had oped at foe's behest,
Except to captive or to guest.
The great emporium of the land,
The royal city now was lost,
And occupied by Eric's host;
The seven high towers of Selma too,
Alas! were all abandon'd now,
That for a thousand years had stood,
Circled by mountain, cliff, and flood,
And ne'er had oped at foe's behest,
Except to captive or to guest.
For why, this landing unawares
Placed Hynde amid a thousand snares;
Her throne, her city, and her state,
Beleaguer'd by a force so great,
That the least turn of fortune might
Place all at Eric's steps outright.
Her nobles, this to countervail,
Bore her away by oar and sail
In dead of night, and not alone;
Her court, her treasures, and her throne,
Safe in Dunstaffnage did they place,
Where they had vantage-ground and space
To place their guards by ford and mere,
That none should come their treasure near.
Placed Hynde amid a thousand snares;
Her throne, her city, and her state,
Beleaguer'd by a force so great,
That the least turn of fortune might
Place all at Eric's steps outright.
Her nobles, this to countervail,
Bore her away by oar and sail
In dead of night, and not alone;
Her court, her treasures, and her throne,
240
Where they had vantage-ground and space
To place their guards by ford and mere,
That none should come their treasure near.
Their queen thus safe, it was not strange
That they, with coolness and revenge,
Fought out the field, from early noon
Until the rising of the moon;
And then drew off, from pursuit free,
In still and sullen enmity.
That they, with coolness and revenge,
Fought out the field, from early noon
Until the rising of the moon;
And then drew off, from pursuit free,
In still and sullen enmity.
Though conscious that a fraud full low
They practised had upon the foe,
They knew not yet on what pretence
Eric had dared this bold offence,
Breaking his faith without regard,
And rushing on them unprepared.
Their loss was great, without defeat;
Yet still their queen and coronet,
And sacred choir, they, all the three,
Had placed in full security;
Hence they resolved to suffer dumb
The good or ill, as each should come.
They practised had upon the foe,
They knew not yet on what pretence
Eric had dared this bold offence,
Breaking his faith without regard,
And rushing on them unprepared.
Their loss was great, without defeat;
Yet still their queen and coronet,
And sacred choir, they, all the three,
Had placed in full security;
Hence they resolved to suffer dumb
The good or ill, as each should come.
Outposts and watchers not a few
They placed around in order due,
And straight prepared, with rueful speed,
To pay due honours to the dead.
At dawn a messenger was sent,
With all despatch to Eric's tent;
To ask of him one peaceful day,
Due honours to their slain to pay.
They placed around in order due,
And straight prepared, with rueful speed,
To pay due honours to the dead.
At dawn a messenger was sent,
With all despatch to Eric's tent;
To ask of him one peaceful day,
Due honours to their slain to pay.
The king at first declined discourse;
O'erwhelm'd with sorrow and remorse,
He sat alone, and neither foe
Nor friend durst nigh his presence go.
His ruthless and ungenerous deed
Gnaw'd his great soul without remede;
And the brave youth he loved the most,
Prince Haco, was in battle lost,
With all the chief men of his train,
And were not found among the slain.
If these were captives, what avail
Had fall'n into his enemy's scale!
If they had only quit the land,
The sceptre trembled in his hand.
O'erwhelm'd with sorrow and remorse,
He sat alone, and neither foe
Nor friend durst nigh his presence go.
His ruthless and ungenerous deed
Gnaw'd his great soul without remede;
And the brave youth he loved the most,
Prince Haco, was in battle lost,
With all the chief men of his train,
And were not found among the slain.
If these were captives, what avail
Had fall'n into his enemy's scale!
If they had only quit the land,
The sceptre trembled in his hand.
But, worst of all, the sacrifice
By which he trusted from the skies
Support to win, at Odin's frown,
That dear-bought hope had been struck down;
And now his priests, in deep despair,
Foreboded nought but dole and care.
By which he trusted from the skies
Support to win, at Odin's frown,
That dear-bought hope had been struck down;
And now his priests, in deep despair,
Foreboded nought but dole and care.
Eric sat wondering all alone
Into what land these maids had gone—
If some intrepid chief's array
Had come and stolen his pledge away,
Or Odin had upborne them all
Alive into Valhalla's hall.
At all events, that stay was cross'd,
The mighty sacrifice was lost,
And Eric was assured too well
Of more mishap than tongue could tell;
In such a toilsome mood he flounced
When Albyn's herald was announced.
And this was all the answer brief
He deign'd unto the Scottish chief:
Into what land these maids had gone—
If some intrepid chief's array
Had come and stolen his pledge away,
Or Odin had upborne them all
Alive into Valhalla's hall.
At all events, that stay was cross'd,
The mighty sacrifice was lost,
And Eric was assured too well
Of more mishap than tongue could tell;
In such a toilsome mood he flounced
When Albyn's herald was announced.
And this was all the answer brief
He deign'd unto the Scottish chief:
“Go, tell him to speed home apace;
With son of that deceitful race
No speech I hold—no, not a word,
Save o'er the gauntlet or the sword.”
With son of that deceitful race
No speech I hold—no, not a word,
Save o'er the gauntlet or the sword.”
“Sire, he is sent express, to say
The Scots request one peaceful day,
To bury those in battle slain,
Which, if refused, they come again
Over their carcases to fight,
And God in heaven support the right!
For that dear privilege they'll stand,
While living man is in the land.”
The Scots request one peaceful day,
To bury those in battle slain,
Which, if refused, they come again
Over their carcases to fight,
And God in heaven support the right!
For that dear privilege they'll stand,
While living man is in the land.”
“The Scots' request is bold and high,”
King Eric said with kindling eye;
“And straight I grant it, with demand
That, at the bier of Coulan Brande,
I as chief mourner may appear;
Then all the obsequies, so dear
To kindred souls, shall mingled be,
Without offence or frown from me.
In feast and sport we all combine;
No answer—let the charge be mine.”
King Eric said with kindling eye;
“And straight I grant it, with demand
That, at the bier of Coulan Brande,
I as chief mourner may appear;
Then all the obsequies, so dear
To kindred souls, shall mingled be,
Without offence or frown from me.
In feast and sport we all combine;
No answer—let the charge be mine.”
Next morn, by mutual consent,
The arms of either host were pent
In heaps within each camp, and all
Flock'd to the mingled festival.
At Coulan's bier King Eric took
Chief place, with attitude and look
That struck both friend and foeman's eye
As fraught with dread solemnity.
High on the hill of Kiel were laid
The ashes of the mighty dead,
Hence call'd, with all its cairns so gray,
“Hill of the Slain,” until this day.
There, over Coulan's lowly urn,
The mighty Eric deign'd to mourn;
Bow'd his imperial head full low,
Wiped his red-eye and burning brow,
And thus address'd the gaping crowd,
That motley, moving multitude:—
The arms of either host were pent
In heaps within each camp, and all
Flock'd to the mingled festival.
At Coulan's bier King Eric took
Chief place, with attitude and look
That struck both friend and foeman's eye
As fraught with dread solemnity.
High on the hill of Kiel were laid
The ashes of the mighty dead,
Hence call'd, with all its cairns so gray,
“Hill of the Slain,” until this day.
There, over Coulan's lowly urn,
The mighty Eric deign'd to mourn;
Bow'd his imperial head full low,
Wiped his red-eye and burning brow,
And thus address'd the gaping crowd,
That motley, moving multitude:—
“Soldiers and denizens, give ear;
I say the words that all may hear:
Here, o'er the dust of chief, I bow,
That conquer'd him who speaks to you.
He owns it. Eric of the north,
Who ne'er before acknowledged worth
Superior to his own, avows
That Coulan Brande has shorn his brows
Of all the honours there that grew,
So lone, untarnish'd, bright, and new.
I say the words that all may hear:
Here, o'er the dust of chief, I bow,
That conquer'd him who speaks to you.
He owns it. Eric of the north,
Who ne'er before acknowledged worth
Superior to his own, avows
That Coulan Brande has shorn his brows
Of all the honours there that grew,
So lone, untarnish'd, bright, and new.
241
“This chief, in battle's deadliest hour,
A forfeit life held in his power;
That life was mine; it lay full low
Beneath his lifted, threaten'd blow:
But, scorning vantage and reward,
High honour only his regard,
His hand withheld the blow intended:
Would to the gods it had descended!
And cleft this heart, whose festering core
Feels pangs it never felt before.
A forfeit life held in his power;
That life was mine; it lay full low
Beneath his lifted, threaten'd blow:
But, scorning vantage and reward,
High honour only his regard,
His hand withheld the blow intended:
Would to the gods it had descended!
And cleft this heart, whose festering core
Feels pangs it never felt before.
“Fortune gave me such chance again;
Where was thine honour, Eric, then?
In heat of ire I struck the blow
That laid this injured hero low;
But that this stroke I did not stay
I'll rue until my dying day,
And to the world this truth proclaim—
Eric, with all his martial fame,
For once acknowledges compeer;
Vanquish'd in that he held most dear,
He shrouds the palm can ne'er return
Within this low and sacred urn.
Where was thine honour, Eric, then?
In heat of ire I struck the blow
That laid this injured hero low;
But that this stroke I did not stay
I'll rue until my dying day,
And to the world this truth proclaim—
Eric, with all his martial fame,
For once acknowledges compeer;
Vanquish'd in that he held most dear,
He shrouds the palm can ne'er return
Within this low and sacred urn.
“Warriors from shores of either main,
In honour of this hero slain,
Contend in every manly game,
To be memorial of his name
And theirs, upon that fatal field,
Who rather chose to die than yield.
Prizes I grant of warrior store,
Such as were never given before.
In honour of this hero slain,
Contend in every manly game,
To be memorial of his name
And theirs, upon that fatal field,
Who rather chose to die than yield.
Prizes I grant of warrior store,
Such as were never given before.
“As is the wont, in Albyn's land,
For the chief hero's shield and brand,
The trial first of skill must be
Who throws the dart as well as he;
For in that art he could outdo
All men that ever javelin threw.
Hie to the contest; every throw
Be steady as at breast of foe.”
For the chief hero's shield and brand,
The trial first of skill must be
Who throws the dart as well as he;
For in that art he could outdo
All men that ever javelin threw.
Hie to the contest; every throw
Be steady as at breast of foe.”
Each chief, each prince, and petty king,
Prepared the javelin to fling;
But, of them all, the steadiest hand
And eye were those of Olaf Brande,
Who bore in triumph from the field
His honour'd brother's sword and shield,
Though it was ween'd superior skill
Could well have won, but had not will.
Prepared the javelin to fling;
But, of them all, the steadiest hand
And eye were those of Olaf Brande,
Who bore in triumph from the field
His honour'd brother's sword and shield,
Though it was ween'd superior skill
Could well have won, but had not will.
The prize that next was raised in sight
Was golden bracelet burnish'd bright,
To him that in the race should speed,
And chief, and hind, and all exceed.
For there no preference was to be
Conferr'd on lineage or degree;
Nor was it needful: in that age,
The low estate of vassalage
Withheld the peasant from the bound
Of high exploit or deed renown'd.
A being mean of mind and frame,
Of chief supreme the creature tame,
No heart had he, no towering hope
With proud Milesian might to cope;
And of these castes, as legends say,
The traits remain until this day.
Was golden bracelet burnish'd bright,
To him that in the race should speed,
And chief, and hind, and all exceed.
For there no preference was to be
Conferr'd on lineage or degree;
Nor was it needful: in that age,
The low estate of vassalage
Withheld the peasant from the bound
Of high exploit or deed renown'd.
A being mean of mind and frame,
Of chief supreme the creature tame,
No heart had he, no towering hope
With proud Milesian might to cope;
And of these castes, as legends say,
The traits remain until this day.
Eager the golden prize to win,
The light of heart came pouring in—
All noble youths, of agile make,
Who loved the race for running's sake,
And hoped, at least, to mar the way
Of the superiors in the play;
But chiefly, if they saw the Norse,
Would Albyn's youths put to the worse.
The light of heart came pouring in—
All noble youths, of agile make,
Who loved the race for running's sake,
And hoped, at least, to mar the way
Of the superiors in the play;
But chiefly, if they saw the Norse,
Would Albyn's youths put to the worse.
No fewer wights than twenty-two,
All rank'd in one continuous row,
Stood stripp'd and belted for the fun,
And panting for the word to run.
The bugle sounded short and low—
A paleness glitter'd on each brow;
The bugle sounded loud and long,
And every chest, with heavings strong,
And mouth, seem'd gasping breath to gain
More than their circuits could contain.
The bugle's third note was a yell,
A piercing, momentary knell;
Oh what relief to every heart!—
It was the warning note to start.
Then, like a flock of sheep new shorn,
Or startled roes at break of morn,
Away they spring mid whoop and hollo,
And light of foot were those could follow.
All rank'd in one continuous row,
Stood stripp'd and belted for the fun,
And panting for the word to run.
The bugle sounded short and low—
A paleness glitter'd on each brow;
The bugle sounded loud and long,
And every chest, with heavings strong,
And mouth, seem'd gasping breath to gain
More than their circuits could contain.
The bugle's third note was a yell,
A piercing, momentary knell;
Oh what relief to every heart!—
It was the warning note to start.
Then, like a flock of sheep new shorn,
Or startled roes at break of morn,
Away they spring mid whoop and hollo,
And light of foot were those could follow.
For three good furlongs of the space
All was confusion in the race;
For there was jostling, jumping, fretting,
And breasts with elbows rudely meeting.
One luckless youth, who took the van,
Had overstrain'd him as he ran;
His ardent breast had borne him so
Much faster than his wont to go,
That his untoward limbs declined
To strike as fast as he'd a mind;
Refused the effort with disdain,
And down he stumbled on the plain.
Before one could have utter'd cry,
Or sworn an oath, or closed an eye,
A dozen flagrant youths and more
Were heap'd and tumbling on the shore,
Each muttering terms uncouth to tell,
And cursing aye the last that fell.
All was confusion in the race;
For there was jostling, jumping, fretting,
And breasts with elbows rudely meeting.
One luckless youth, who took the van,
Had overstrain'd him as he ran;
His ardent breast had borne him so
Much faster than his wont to go,
That his untoward limbs declined
To strike as fast as he'd a mind;
Refused the effort with disdain,
And down he stumbled on the plain.
Before one could have utter'd cry,
Or sworn an oath, or closed an eye,
A dozen flagrant youths and more
Were heap'd and tumbling on the shore,
Each muttering terms uncouth to tell,
And cursing aye the last that fell.
Some rose and ran, though far behind;
Some join'd the laugh and lay reclined;
But now the interest grew extreme—
Feldborg the Dane, like lightning's gleam,
Shot far ahead, and still askance
Backward he threw his comely glance,
Which said full plainly, “I opine,
Most worthy sirs, the prize is mine.”
And still, as straining in the race,
A smile play'd on his courteous face;
For who, in courtly form and air,
With Danish Feldborg could compare?
Some join'd the laugh and lay reclined;
But now the interest grew extreme—
Feldborg the Dane, like lightning's gleam,
Shot far ahead, and still askance
Backward he threw his comely glance,
Which said full plainly, “I opine,
Most worthy sirs, the prize is mine.”
And still, as straining in the race,
A smile play'd on his courteous face;
242
With Danish Feldborg could compare?
The farthest goal is won and past,
And Feldborg still is gaining fast;
Aloud the joyous clamour grew
From Eric's grim and boisterous crew,
While one small voice alone could cry
From Albyn's host, “Fie, kinsmen, fie!”
Eon of Elry heard that word
Call'd by a loved and honour'd lord,
And straight the bold athletic bard
Was after Feldborg straining hard,
Skimming the sandy level plain
With swiftness man could not sustain.
And Feldborg still is gaining fast;
Aloud the joyous clamour grew
From Eric's grim and boisterous crew,
While one small voice alone could cry
From Albyn's host, “Fie, kinsmen, fie!”
Eon of Elry heard that word
Call'd by a loved and honour'd lord,
And straight the bold athletic bard
Was after Feldborg straining hard,
Skimming the sandy level plain
With swiftness man could not sustain.
Feldborg of Denmark, now the time
To weave thy name in lofty rhyme!
To rank thee with the seraphim
Depends but on thy strength of limb!
But well thou knew'st that chief, or king,
Or living creature without wing,
To scale the heaven might try as well,
As run with thee and thee excel;
All this thou knew'st; it was thy boast,
And so did many to their cost.
To weave thy name in lofty rhyme!
To rank thee with the seraphim
Depends but on thy strength of limb!
But well thou knew'st that chief, or king,
Or living creature without wing,
To scale the heaven might try as well,
As run with thee and thee excel;
All this thou knew'st; it was thy boast,
And so did many to their cost.
Eon M'Eon, do not flinch,
For thou art gaining inch by inch;
Strain thy whole frame and soul to boot;
Nay, thou art gaining foot by foot;
The crowd perceives it with acclaim,
And every accent breathes thy name.
Eon of Elry, God thee speed!
One other stretch, and thou'rt ahead.
For thou art gaining inch by inch;
Strain thy whole frame and soul to boot;
Nay, thou art gaining foot by foot;
The crowd perceives it with acclaim,
And every accent breathes thy name.
Eon of Elry, God thee speed!
One other stretch, and thou'rt ahead.
Feldborg, what's that which thee doth gall?
What does thy look equivocal
Note by thy side glittering so bright?—
A bracelet clasp, by Odin's might!
And that proud slieve in verity,
Eon of Elry forces by.
Strain, Feldborg, strain, or thou shalt lose;
His elbow kythes, and eke his nose!—
Where are they now? In moment gone!
And Feldborg gains the goal alone!
Elry lies prostrate on the plain,
Laughing aloud, in breathless pain,
Spurning the land with fitful scream;
While his bright eye's unearthly gleam,
Bespoke full well how ill content
His heart was with the incident.
With curling lip, and brow of flame,
And cheek that rankled half for shame,
He laughing rose, and wiped his brow,
“By Heaven, sir, I no more could do!”
What does thy look equivocal
Note by thy side glittering so bright?—
A bracelet clasp, by Odin's might!
And that proud slieve in verity,
Eon of Elry forces by.
Strain, Feldborg, strain, or thou shalt lose;
His elbow kythes, and eke his nose!—
Where are they now? In moment gone!
And Feldborg gains the goal alone!
Elry lies prostrate on the plain,
Laughing aloud, in breathless pain,
Spurning the land with fitful scream;
While his bright eye's unearthly gleam,
Bespoke full well how ill content
His heart was with the incident.
With curling lip, and brow of flame,
And cheek that rankled half for shame,
He laughing rose, and wiped his brow,
“By Heaven, sir, I no more could do!”
The golden gem of potent charm
Glitters on Feldborg's swarthy arm;
While he survey'd the trophy grand,
With countenance as proudly bland,
As every bard in Albyn green
An eulogist to him had been,
And given to him a fulsome lay,
The dearest pledge e'er came his way.
Glitters on Feldborg's swarthy arm;
While he survey'd the trophy grand,
With countenance as proudly bland,
As every bard in Albyn green
An eulogist to him had been,
And given to him a fulsome lay,
The dearest pledge e'er came his way.
Feldborg, thou hast effected feat
That stamps thee consummately great;
For thou hast vanquish'd one whose name
Stands highest on the list of fame.
Although an enemy and a Dane,
I hold thy victory immane;
Laud to thy noble visage swart!
Illustrious man of tale and chart!
Professor of the running art!
That stamps thee consummately great;
For thou hast vanquish'd one whose name
Stands highest on the list of fame.
Although an enemy and a Dane,
I hold thy victory immane;
Laud to thy noble visage swart!
Illustrious man of tale and chart!
Professor of the running art!
The game that follow'd next the race,
Was pitching of an iron mace
From buskin'd foot, which made it wheel
With whirling motion like a reel
Aloft in air—I not pretend
This ancient game to comprehend;
But yet th' expert could pitch it straight,
Like arrow at convenient height,
And lodge it at the farthest goal,
Fix'd in the earth like upright pole.
A Danish game it was, therefore
The Danish chiefs the mastery bore;
As for the Scots, they toil'd in vain;
Like coursers without curb or rein,
They spent their spirits and their might
In efforts without rule or slight.
Was pitching of an iron mace
From buskin'd foot, which made it wheel
With whirling motion like a reel
Aloft in air—I not pretend
This ancient game to comprehend;
But yet th' expert could pitch it straight,
Like arrow at convenient height,
And lodge it at the farthest goal,
Fix'd in the earth like upright pole.
A Danish game it was, therefore
The Danish chiefs the mastery bore;
As for the Scots, they toil'd in vain;
Like coursers without curb or rein,
They spent their spirits and their might
In efforts without rule or slight.
King Eric, grimly smiling, came
As if in sport to share the game;
He heaved the mace like stager's poy,
And twirl'd it like a lady's toy;
Then from his buskin's brazen toe,
Like arching meteor made it go;
Till far beyond the utmost cast,
Deep in the soil 'twas planted fast.
No clamour rose, as one might trow,
From such a monarch's master-throw;
But through the host, from man to man,
A buzz of admiration ran,
And no one judged it for his thrift
The mighty mace again to lift.
As if in sport to share the game;
He heaved the mace like stager's poy,
And twirl'd it like a lady's toy;
Then from his buskin's brazen toe,
Like arching meteor made it go;
Till far beyond the utmost cast,
Deep in the soil 'twas planted fast.
No clamour rose, as one might trow,
From such a monarch's master-throw;
But through the host, from man to man,
A buzz of admiration ran,
And no one judged it for his thrift
The mighty mace again to lift.
“Come, princes! captains!” Eric cried,
With voice as though he meant to chide;
“Come! To the sport! It is confest
You're playing with it for a jest.
Pitch all again. I gave that throw
As earnest of what more I'll do.”
With voice as though he meant to chide;
“Come! To the sport! It is confest
You're playing with it for a jest.
Pitch all again. I gave that throw
As earnest of what more I'll do.”
Each chief disclaim'd the fruitless deed
Or hemm'd, and smiled, and shook the head,
And all prepared the prize to yield,
And rush into some other field.
When lo! a burly peasant proud
Came dashing through the heartless crowd
Shouldering both chief and vassal by
As things of no utility.
Straight to th' avoided mace he broke,
And aye he stutter'd as he spoke;
Fast from his tongue the threat'nings fell,
Though what they were no man could tell.
Up from its hold he tore the mace,
And ran unto the footing place;
But, lo! his sinewy foot was bare,
Nor sandal, hoe, nor brog was there!
To pitch the iron club from thence,
Surpass'd even savage truculence.
Or hemm'd, and smiled, and shook the head,
And all prepared the prize to yield,
And rush into some other field.
When lo! a burly peasant proud
Came dashing through the heartless crowd
Shouldering both chief and vassal by
As things of no utility.
Straight to th' avoided mace he broke,
And aye he stutter'd as he spoke;
243
Though what they were no man could tell.
Up from its hold he tore the mace,
And ran unto the footing place;
But, lo! his sinewy foot was bare,
Nor sandal, hoe, nor brog was there!
To pitch the iron club from thence,
Surpass'd even savage truculence.
The laugh was loud, while, in his need,
The kerne look'd round for some remede,
And for a bonnet grasp'd his hair,
But a red snood alone was there.
With grasp of power he seized the bent,
A sod from the earth's surface rent;
Which, placing on his foot with care,
The massive club he rested there;
Then his strong limb behind him drew,
And grinn'd and goggled as he threw;
But with such force he made it fly,
It swither'd through the air on high,
Soughing with harsh and heavy ring,
Like sound of angry condor's wing,
Till far beyond King Eric's throw
It delved the earth with awkward blow.
The kerne look'd round for some remede,
And for a bonnet grasp'd his hair,
But a red snood alone was there.
With grasp of power he seized the bent,
A sod from the earth's surface rent;
Which, placing on his foot with care,
The massive club he rested there;
Then his strong limb behind him drew,
And grinn'd and goggled as he threw;
But with such force he made it fly,
It swither'd through the air on high,
Soughing with harsh and heavy ring,
Like sound of angry condor's wing,
Till far beyond King Eric's throw
It delved the earth with awkward blow.
“Beshrew the knave!” King Eric cried;
His nobles with a curse replied,
And crowded to the spot outright,
To wonder at the peasant's might.
“Who, or what is this savage young?”
Was ask'd by every flippant tongue;
But to make answer there was none,
Nor one could tell where he was gone;
The golden prize on high was rear'd,
But claimant there was none appear'd.
His nobles with a curse replied,
And crowded to the spot outright,
To wonder at the peasant's might.
“Who, or what is this savage young?”
Was ask'd by every flippant tongue;
But to make answer there was none,
Nor one could tell where he was gone;
The golden prize on high was rear'd,
But claimant there was none appear'd.
“It is the giant Lok, I know,
Sent by the gods from hell below,
Against my growing power to plot,
And vanquish might which man could not,”
With look demure, King Eric cried.
“'Tis Lok!” each Scanian tongue replied.
The victor was not found, nor came
His prize of lofty worth to claim;
And all the Norse believed, and said,
Their king by Lok was vanquished.
Sent by the gods from hell below,
Against my growing power to plot,
And vanquish might which man could not,”
With look demure, King Eric cried.
“'Tis Lok!” each Scanian tongue replied.
The victor was not found, nor came
His prize of lofty worth to claim;
And all the Norse believed, and said,
Their king by Lok was vanquished.
The leaping, wrenching, fencing, all
Were won by youths of Diarmid's hall;
While Eric's soldiers took their loss,
With manners quarrelsome and cross.
But of the boat-race these made sure;
The gilded barge was theirs secure;
On that they reckon'd, and prepared
To row with skill and strength unspared.
Were won by youths of Diarmid's hall;
While Eric's soldiers took their loss,
With manners quarrelsome and cross.
But of the boat-race these made sure;
The gilded barge was theirs secure;
On that they reckon'd, and prepared
To row with skill and strength unspared.
Fourteen fair barges in a row,
Started at once with heaving prow;
With colours, flags, and plumes bedight;
It was forsooth a comely sight!
King Eric's seven good rowers swarth,
Chosen from all the sinewy north,
Were men of such gigantic parts,
And science in the naval arts,
And with such force their flashes hurl'd,
They fear'd no rowers of this world.
Started at once with heaving prow;
With colours, flags, and plumes bedight;
It was forsooth a comely sight!
King Eric's seven good rowers swarth,
Chosen from all the sinewy north,
Were men of such gigantic parts,
And science in the naval arts,
And with such force their flashes hurl'd,
They fear'd no rowers of this world.
King Eric, crown'd with many a gem,
Took station on his barge's stem;
Secure of victory, and proud
To shoot before the toiling crowd,
And spring the first upon the shore;
Full oft he'd done the same before.
Took station on his barge's stem;
Secure of victory, and proud
To shoot before the toiling crowd,
And spring the first upon the shore;
Full oft he'd done the same before.
Seven boats of either nation bore,
In proud array from Keila's shore,
With equal confidence endow'd;
To each seven rowers were allow'd;
But by the way they spied, with glee,
That one Scots barge had only three,
And she was bobbing far behind,
As toiling with the tide and wind;
The rowers laugh'd till all the firth
Resounded with the boist'rous mirth.
In proud array from Keila's shore,
With equal confidence endow'd;
To each seven rowers were allow'd;
But by the way they spied, with glee,
That one Scots barge had only three,
And she was bobbing far behind,
As toiling with the tide and wind;
The rowers laugh'd till all the firth
Resounded with the boist'rous mirth.
Around an isle the race was set,
A nameless isle, and nameless yet;
And when they turn'd its southern mull,
The wind and tide were fair and full;
Then 'twas a cheering sight to view
How swift they skimm'd the ocean blue;
How lightly o'er the wave they scoop'd,
Then down into the valley swoop'd;
Like flock of sea-birds gliding home,
They scarcely touch'd the floating foam,
But like dim shadows through the rain,
They swept across the heaving main;
While in the spray, that flurr'd and gleam'd,
A thousand little rainbows beam'd.
A nameless isle, and nameless yet;
And when they turn'd its southern mull,
The wind and tide were fair and full;
Then 'twas a cheering sight to view
How swift they skimm'd the ocean blue;
How lightly o'er the wave they scoop'd,
Then down into the valley swoop'd;
Like flock of sea-birds gliding home,
They scarcely touch'd the floating foam,
But like dim shadows through the rain,
They swept across the heaving main;
While in the spray, that flurr'd and gleam'd,
A thousand little rainbows beam'd.
King Eric's bark, like pilot swan,
Aright before the centre ran,
Stemming the current and the wind
For all his cygnet fleet behind,
And proudly look'd he back the while,
With lofty and imperial smile.
O mariners! why all that strife?
Why plash and plunge 'twixt death and life?
When 'tis as plain as plain can be,
That barge is mistress of the sea.
Aright before the centre ran,
Stemming the current and the wind
For all his cygnet fleet behind,
And proudly look'd he back the while,
With lofty and imperial smile.
O mariners! why all that strife?
Why plash and plunge 'twixt death and life?
When 'tis as plain as plain can be,
That barge is mistress of the sea.
Pray, not so fast, Sir Minstrel rath!
Look back upon that foamy path,
As Eric does with doubtful eye,
On little boat that gallantly
Escapes from out the flashing coil,
And presses on with eager toil,
Full briskly stemming tide and wind,
And following Eric hard behind;
And, worst of all for kingly lot,
Three rowers only man the boat!
Look back upon that foamy path,
As Eric does with doubtful eye,
On little boat that gallantly
Escapes from out the flashing coil,
And presses on with eager toil,
Full briskly stemming tide and wind,
And following Eric hard behind;
And, worst of all for kingly lot,
Three rowers only man the boat!
“Ply, rowers, ply! We're still ahead.
Lean from your oars—shall it be said
That the seven champions of the sea
Were beat outright by random three?
Ply, rowers, ply! She gains so fast,
I hear their flouts upon us cast.
'Tis the small boat, as I'm on earth!
That gave so much untimely mirth.”
Lean from your oars—shall it be said
244
Were beat outright by random three?
Ply, rowers, ply! She gains so fast,
I hear their flouts upon us cast.
'Tis the small boat, as I'm on earth!
That gave so much untimely mirth.”
“Curse on her speed! Strain, rowers, strain!”
Impatient Eric cried again;
“See how she cleaves the billow proud,
Like eagle through a wreathy cloud:
Strain, vassals, strain! If we're outrun,
By moving thing below the sun,
I swear by Odin's mighty hand,
I'll sink the boat and swim to land!”
Impatient Eric cried again;
“See how she cleaves the billow proud,
Like eagle through a wreathy cloud:
Strain, vassals, strain! If we're outrun,
By moving thing below the sun,
I swear by Odin's mighty hand,
I'll sink the boat and swim to land!”
Hard toil'd King Eric's giant crew;
Their faces grim to purple grew;
At last their cheering loud ye-ho
Was changed into a grunt of woe.
For she, the little bark despised
And foully at the first misprised,
Came breasting up with skimming motion,
Scarce gurgling in the liquid ocean;
And by, and by, and by she bore,
With whoop of joy, and dash of oar!
The foremost rower plied his strength
On two oars of tremendous length,
Which boards on further end reveal'd,
Broader than Eric's gilded shield;
The monarch trembled and look'd grave
To see the strokes that rower gave.
Their faces grim to purple grew;
At last their cheering loud ye-ho
Was changed into a grunt of woe.
For she, the little bark despised
And foully at the first misprised,
Came breasting up with skimming motion,
Scarce gurgling in the liquid ocean;
And by, and by, and by she bore,
With whoop of joy, and dash of oar!
The foremost rower plied his strength
On two oars of tremendous length,
Which boards on further end reveal'd,
Broader than Eric's gilded shield;
The monarch trembled and look'd grave
To see the strokes that rower gave.
Just then he heaved his oars behind,
Like falcon's wings lean'd to the wind
As pass'd his little pinnace plain
The monarch's meteor of the main;
And, as he bent his might to row,
He struck King Eric's gilded prow
With such a bounce and such a heave,
That back she toppled o'er the wave,
And nigh had thrown, as nigh could be,
Her king and champions in the sea.—
“Ho! oar-room, friends! your distance keep,”
Cried that rude Hector of the deep;
“Ye-ho! ye-ho!
How well we go!
Ours is the bark that fears no foe!”
Like falcon's wings lean'd to the wind
As pass'd his little pinnace plain
The monarch's meteor of the main;
And, as he bent his might to row,
He struck King Eric's gilded prow
With such a bounce and such a heave,
That back she toppled o'er the wave,
And nigh had thrown, as nigh could be,
Her king and champions in the sea.—
“Ho! oar-room, friends! your distance keep,”
Cried that rude Hector of the deep;
“Ye-ho! ye-ho!
How well we go!
Ours is the bark that fears no foe!”
Then, not till then, King Eric saw
A sight that struck him dumb with awe;
He saw that wight, the very same
In the last sport who overcame,
And now, by Odin's dread decree,
Had vanquish'd him most ominously.—
“'Tis Lok the giant! Lok again!”
King Eric cried in thrilling pain;
“How flourish can our sovereign sway
If gods and demons both gainsay?”—
“'Tis Lok!” responsed each rower grim,
“Too oft I've thwarted been by him!”
A sight that struck him dumb with awe;
He saw that wight, the very same
In the last sport who overcame,
And now, by Odin's dread decree,
Had vanquish'd him most ominously.—
“'Tis Lok the giant! Lok again!”
King Eric cried in thrilling pain;
“How flourish can our sovereign sway
If gods and demons both gainsay?”—
“'Tis Lok!” responsed each rower grim,
“Too oft I've thwarted been by him!”
With sullen prow and lagging oar
The vanquished barges reach'd the shore,
But there the conqu'rors could not see;
The boat stood leaning to the lee;
An ancient boat, with wale and wem,
And gilded mermaid on her stem.
Then great the press and bustle grew,
That wondrous boat of hell to view,
Till an old man of Isla came,
And of the marvel made a claim;
He'd lent his boat for trivial fare,
But knew not who the hirers were.
That poor man got the prize prepared,
Or in its stead a meet reward.
The vanquished barges reach'd the shore,
But there the conqu'rors could not see;
The boat stood leaning to the lee;
An ancient boat, with wale and wem,
And gilded mermaid on her stem.
Then great the press and bustle grew,
That wondrous boat of hell to view,
Till an old man of Isla came,
And of the marvel made a claim;
He'd lent his boat for trivial fare,
But knew not who the hirers were.
That poor man got the prize prepared,
Or in its stead a meet reward.
The tossing of the pond'rous mall
Was won by Ross of Armidell;
And he who farthest threw the stone
Was from the Spey, his name unknown.
But when the rival archers came,
At target hung afar to aim,
The Scandinavians bore the gree,
For ages trained to archery.
No bard can now detail those games,
Nor modern tongue express their names,
But at the setting of the sun,
Nor Scot nor Norse had lost or won;
The rival nations equal stood
In feats of skill and lustihood;
One prize remain'd—one, and no more,
To stamp one side the conqueror!
And now, no living can conceive
The ardour that prevail'd that eve;
It was as if each nation's fate
Hung on the scale, it was so great.
Was won by Ross of Armidell;
And he who farthest threw the stone
Was from the Spey, his name unknown.
But when the rival archers came,
At target hung afar to aim,
The Scandinavians bore the gree,
For ages trained to archery.
No bard can now detail those games,
Nor modern tongue express their names,
But at the setting of the sun,
Nor Scot nor Norse had lost or won;
The rival nations equal stood
In feats of skill and lustihood;
One prize remain'd—one, and no more,
To stamp one side the conqueror!
And now, no living can conceive
The ardour that prevail'd that eve;
It was as if each nation's fate
Hung on the scale, it was so great.
The prize was one of high avail,
A Roman sword and coat-of-mail;
A sword most dazzling to behold,
Its basket was of burnish'd gold;
Such blade no Briton ever drew,
A two-edged blade of glancing blue,
Five feet from point to bandelet,
And yet when bent they fairly met.
A mighty Roman general wore
That sword and armour both of yore.
The feat of wrestling was the game,
On which each nation's pride or shame,
As on a balance heaving, hung,
While every patriot heart was wrung
With feelings of such poignant sway,
As none can rate this latter day.
A Roman sword and coat-of-mail;
A sword most dazzling to behold,
Its basket was of burnish'd gold;
Such blade no Briton ever drew,
A two-edged blade of glancing blue,
Five feet from point to bandelet,
And yet when bent they fairly met.
A mighty Roman general wore
That sword and armour both of yore.
The feat of wrestling was the game,
On which each nation's pride or shame,
As on a balance heaving, hung,
While every patriot heart was wrung
With feelings of such poignant sway,
As none can rate this latter day.
A level field was fenced around
With palisades, 'mid rising ground,
And, after proclamation due,
Into that field the wrestlers drew;
But that no vantage one might gain,
The Norse and Scot went twain by twain.
Each prince and chief of note was there;
Threescore and four came pair by pair;
Eric among the rest appear'd,
Who never man at wrestling fear'd.
With palisades, 'mid rising ground,
And, after proclamation due,
Into that field the wrestlers drew;
But that no vantage one might gain,
The Norse and Scot went twain by twain.
Each prince and chief of note was there;
Threescore and four came pair by pair;
245
Who never man at wrestling fear'd.
The bugle sounded to begin,
And two by two, as they came in,
The wrestlers join'd most orderly,
With toe to toe, and knee to knee.
And there each stood with parched throat,
Waiting the bugle's warning note;
Then fiercely heel on heel 'gan dashing,
And bones and sinews rudely crashing,
And, ere the heart of keenest throes
Had beat on breast a hundred blows,
Or three short minutes were outgone,
Thirty and two were overthrown.
And two by two, as they came in,
The wrestlers join'd most orderly,
With toe to toe, and knee to knee.
And there each stood with parched throat,
Waiting the bugle's warning note;
Then fiercely heel on heel 'gan dashing,
And bones and sinews rudely crashing,
And, ere the heart of keenest throes
Had beat on breast a hundred blows,
Or three short minutes were outgone,
Thirty and two were overthrown.
They counted heads of Dane and Scot,
And wrestled till the end by lot;
And, after many a strain and twist,
And many a bruised antagonist,
Two conquerors there stood reveal'd,
One at each corner of the field.
Eric was one in trial true;
The belted plaid and bonnet blue
Bespoke the country and degree
Of his tall comely enemy;
From his high bearing and his mien,
He seem'd some chief in manhood green;
All knew him as he forward came,
They said, though none could say his name;
But many an anxious eye was bent,
On this decisive throw intent.
And wrestled till the end by lot;
And, after many a strain and twist,
And many a bruised antagonist,
Two conquerors there stood reveal'd,
One at each corner of the field.
Eric was one in trial true;
The belted plaid and bonnet blue
Bespoke the country and degree
Of his tall comely enemy;
From his high bearing and his mien,
He seem'd some chief in manhood green;
All knew him as he forward came,
They said, though none could say his name;
But many an anxious eye was bent,
On this decisive throw intent.
Slowly they near'd; the stranger's air,
Was sauntering, stately, void of care,
But Eric's eye had fiery glow
Like that of planet rising low;
His brows the while projecting far,
Like dark cloud over rising star;
And once he started and uprear'd
His form as if he treachery fear'd,
Or mark'd a feature undefined
That brought some guilty deed to mind.
Was sauntering, stately, void of care,
But Eric's eye had fiery glow
Like that of planet rising low;
His brows the while projecting far,
Like dark cloud over rising star;
And once he started and uprear'd
His form as if he treachery fear'd,
Or mark'd a feature undefined
That brought some guilty deed to mind.
The youth, too, paused, and still as death,
Like statue without blood or breath,
He stood, with hands half raised and bent,
And face fix'd on the firmament,
As if he wrestled had with heaven,
Or with some strong enchantment striven.
Men were afraid, and Eric's jaw
Descended as oppress'd with awe,
For Lok across his memory came,
Like thrill of an electric flame;
But whether the youth the powers unblest
And adverse to the gods address'd,
Or look'd with suppliant's humble eye
To Odin's stern divinity,
Bowed to the glorious God of Day,
Or own'd the Son of David's sway,
No one could guess; for in those times,
These were the gods of northern climes.
This wild and solemn reverie o'er,
Eric stood up the youth before,
And words of wonderment express'd
How he had vanquished all the rest;
For that some champions had been thrown,
Who ne'er in prowess had been known
To yield to man, save one alone.
Like statue without blood or breath,
He stood, with hands half raised and bent,
And face fix'd on the firmament,
As if he wrestled had with heaven,
Or with some strong enchantment striven.
Men were afraid, and Eric's jaw
Descended as oppress'd with awe,
For Lok across his memory came,
Like thrill of an electric flame;
But whether the youth the powers unblest
And adverse to the gods address'd,
Or look'd with suppliant's humble eye
To Odin's stern divinity,
Bowed to the glorious God of Day,
Or own'd the Son of David's sway,
No one could guess; for in those times,
These were the gods of northern climes.
This wild and solemn reverie o'er,
Eric stood up the youth before,
And words of wonderment express'd
How he had vanquished all the rest;
For that some champions had been thrown,
Who ne'er in prowess had been known
To yield to man, save one alone.
The youth no answer deign'd, or heed,
To this sly boast of matchless deed,
But moveless stood as form of stone,
And turn'd his eye to Beregon.
“Come, art thou ready?” Eric said.
The youth a slight obeisance made,
With due respect, as it behoved;
But neither hand nor foot he moved,
Till Eric laid his arms around,
And in his iron grasp him bound;
Then lithely did he square each limb,
And set his joints in proper trim.
To this sly boast of matchless deed,
But moveless stood as form of stone,
And turn'd his eye to Beregon.
“Come, art thou ready?” Eric said.
The youth a slight obeisance made,
With due respect, as it behoved;
But neither hand nor foot he moved,
Till Eric laid his arms around,
And in his iron grasp him bound;
Then lithely did he square each limb,
And set his joints in proper trim.
The king that day had thrown his men
By heaving them aloft, and then,
With foot advanced, and ready knee,
Twisting them down full dexterously.
But when he tried that youth to foil,
He seem'd to grow unto the soil;
Despite the force of Eric's frame,
Which might of man could never maim,
That stranger wight with careless air
Preserved his footing firm and fair,
And circumvented with such sleight
His great opponent's perilous might,
That even the monarch's breathless jest
Began his doubts to manifest.
By heaving them aloft, and then,
With foot advanced, and ready knee,
Twisting them down full dexterously.
But when he tried that youth to foil,
He seem'd to grow unto the soil;
Despite the force of Eric's frame,
Which might of man could never maim,
That stranger wight with careless air
Preserved his footing firm and fair,
And circumvented with such sleight
His great opponent's perilous might,
That even the monarch's breathless jest
Began his doubts to manifest.
“Ay, ay! so thou refusest even
To make one movement towards heaven!
Bespeaks not this a perverse mind,
And heart most sordidly inclined?
Well, some new mode we then must press
To suit thy taste of daintiness.”
To make one movement towards heaven!
Bespeaks not this a perverse mind,
And heart most sordidly inclined?
Well, some new mode we then must press
To suit thy taste of daintiness.”
With that the hero nerved his might,
And roused his spirit to the height;
That might which (save by wizard's charm)
Had never blench'd at mortal arm,
That so by one resistless throw
He might o'erpower this haughty foe,
And in the lists the highest place
Might still pertain to Odin's race.
And roused his spirit to the height;
That might which (save by wizard's charm)
Had never blench'd at mortal arm,
That so by one resistless throw
He might o'erpower this haughty foe,
And in the lists the highest place
Might still pertain to Odin's race.
The effort's past; the trip, the strain,
All given full sway, and given in vain!
And ne'er before had human eye
Beheld such marvellous energy,
Without all surliness or wrath;
But now King Eric gasp'd for breath
So sore, that every Danish eye
Saw double; many a heart beat high,
While ears sang out the torrent's lay,
Dreading the issue of the day.
All given full sway, and given in vain!
And ne'er before had human eye
Beheld such marvellous energy,
Without all surliness or wrath;
But now King Eric gasp'd for breath
So sore, that every Danish eye
Saw double; many a heart beat high,
While ears sang out the torrent's lay,
Dreading the issue of the day.
246
The doughty youth had all this while
Nor utter'd word nor deign'd a smile;
On the defensive kept he shy,
The monarch's utmost skill to try;
But now, with such an agile pace
That eye his motions scarce could trace,
He wheel'd, and sprang from side to side,
And sundry feints and amblings tried;
Till, ere on-looker was aware,
He struck King Eric's heels in air.
Yet to the game inured so well,
He caught the monarch as he fell,
And, as supporting him he stood,
These words nigh chill'd King Eric's blood:—
“Ah! God forbid that king renown'd,
And head with sacred honours crown'd,
Should fall degraded to the ground!”
Nor utter'd word nor deign'd a smile;
On the defensive kept he shy,
The monarch's utmost skill to try;
But now, with such an agile pace
That eye his motions scarce could trace,
He wheel'd, and sprang from side to side,
And sundry feints and amblings tried;
Till, ere on-looker was aware,
He struck King Eric's heels in air.
Yet to the game inured so well,
He caught the monarch as he fell,
And, as supporting him he stood,
These words nigh chill'd King Eric's blood:—
“Ah! God forbid that king renown'd,
And head with sacred honours crown'd,
Should fall degraded to the ground!”
Although the faltering cluck was gone,
At once the tongue and voice's tone
Assured King Eric of the sway
That twice had vanquish'd him that day.
And to be thus within the clasp
Of giant Lok's own hellish grasp
(Whom Scania's priests, a thing full odd!
Hold both a demon and a god)—
Oh that was such a direful case,
It spoke the end of Odin's race!
At once the tongue and voice's tone
Assured King Eric of the sway
That twice had vanquish'd him that day.
And to be thus within the clasp
Of giant Lok's own hellish grasp
(Whom Scania's priests, a thing full odd!
Hold both a demon and a god)—
Oh that was such a direful case,
It spoke the end of Odin's race!
“Down with immortal rivalship!”
King Eric cried, with quivering lip;
“This is unfair! Let mortal man
Vanquish King Eric if he can;
But with the Eternal's rival he
Presumes no chance of mastery.
I know thee, fiend! thy dreadful name,
Thy malice, and thy power supreme!
And, for one punishment condign,
Thy hate to Odin's heavenly line.
Though of the race of gods, thou art
A deadly demon at the heart!
And though in various forms this day
Thou hast o'ercome me in the play,
Be't known to all the world abroad,
To man I yield not, but a god.
For thou art Lok, that being stern,
Whom reason's eye can ill discern;
A god—yet virtue's deadliest foe,
And ruler of the realms below.”
King Eric cried, with quivering lip;
“This is unfair! Let mortal man
Vanquish King Eric if he can;
But with the Eternal's rival he
Presumes no chance of mastery.
I know thee, fiend! thy dreadful name,
Thy malice, and thy power supreme!
And, for one punishment condign,
Thy hate to Odin's heavenly line.
Though of the race of gods, thou art
A deadly demon at the heart!
And though in various forms this day
Thou hast o'ercome me in the play,
Be't known to all the world abroad,
To man I yield not, but a god.
For thou art Lok, that being stern,
Whom reason's eye can ill discern;
A god—yet virtue's deadliest foe,
And ruler of the realms below.”
The youth laugh'd a derisive peal,
And lightly turn'd upon his heel,
To work his way throughout the list,
And aye he mumbled as he press'd
Some scraps of high contempt, that spoke
Of “mongrel gods, and fabulous Lok.”
And he had vanish'd in a trice,
As was his wont; but every voice
Call'd out to stop him, friend or foe,
That Albyn might her champion know.—
“Stop him?” cried Eric; “'tis my mind
You may as well oppose the wind;
Or try to stop, by mortal force,
The lightning in its vengeful course.”
And lightly turn'd upon his heel,
To work his way throughout the list,
And aye he mumbled as he press'd
Some scraps of high contempt, that spoke
Of “mongrel gods, and fabulous Lok.”
And he had vanish'd in a trice,
As was his wont; but every voice
Call'd out to stop him, friend or foe,
That Albyn might her champion know.—
“Stop him?” cried Eric; “'tis my mind
You may as well oppose the wind;
Or try to stop, by mortal force,
The lightning in its vengeful course.”
The youth was stay'd and brought to task;
All came to listen, few to ask;
And there they heard, without reserve,
From tongue they deem'd that could not swerve
From native truth; for there stood he,
Telling, in flush'd simplicity,
How he was all unknown to fame;
That poor MacUiston was his name,
Though some there were, on Erin's shore,
Call'd him M'Righ, and Eiden More,
He knew not why; but he had come
Of late to seek his native home,
And there had first that self-same day
Beheld his country's proud array;
That, eager in the lists to try
His youthful strength with princes high,
He had in various garbs appear'd,
And gain'd, because he nothing fear'd;
Having no title of renown,
Nor line, to bring discredit on.
All came to listen, few to ask;
And there they heard, without reserve,
From tongue they deem'd that could not swerve
From native truth; for there stood he,
Telling, in flush'd simplicity,
How he was all unknown to fame;
That poor MacUiston was his name,
Though some there were, on Erin's shore,
Call'd him M'Righ, and Eiden More,
He knew not why; but he had come
Of late to seek his native home,
And there had first that self-same day
Beheld his country's proud array;
That, eager in the lists to try
His youthful strength with princes high,
He had in various garbs appear'd,
And gain'd, because he nothing fear'd;
Having no title of renown,
Nor line, to bring discredit on.
With shouts that echoed far away,
And hush'd the waves on Keila Bay,
The sons of Albyn gather'd round,
And heaved their champion from the ground;
And with obstreperous acclaim,
Lauded MacUiston's humble name.
The Norsemen's looks were all dismay,
And dark as gloom of winter day,
As well they might; for he whose worth
They eyed as pole-star of the north,
By a Scots peasant overcome,
Stood sullen, mortified, and dumb!
And hush'd the waves on Keila Bay,
The sons of Albyn gather'd round,
And heaved their champion from the ground;
And with obstreperous acclaim,
Lauded MacUiston's humble name.
The Norsemen's looks were all dismay,
And dark as gloom of winter day,
As well they might; for he whose worth
They eyed as pole-star of the north,
By a Scots peasant overcome,
Stood sullen, mortified, and dumb!
The sword was brought, of magic mould,
And armour glittering all with gold,
And proffer'd to this wondrous guest,
Whom Eric mildly thus address'd:—
And armour glittering all with gold,
And proffer'd to this wondrous guest,
Whom Eric mildly thus address'd:—
“This is thy prize, and fairly won;
But, as no man beneath the sun
Can this enormous weapon wield,
Or prove the armour and the shield,
Let them by friends appraised be,
And I'll pay down that sum to thee.
They are an old bequest. I may
Not part with them in sportive way.”
But, as no man beneath the sun
Can this enormous weapon wield,
Or prove the armour and the shield,
Let them by friends appraised be,
And I'll pay down that sum to thee.
They are an old bequest. I may
Not part with them in sportive way.”
“No, sire; exchange there can be none;
The prize I claim, and that alone.”
The prize I claim, and that alone.”
“I'll pay it thee in warrior store
In silver, brass, or golden ore;
So they be valued, here in sight
I'll pay thee triple for thy right.”
In silver, brass, or golden ore;
So they be valued, here in sight
I'll pay thee triple for thy right.”
“No, I have said it; and I swear
By the great God whom I revere,
If proffer me thy royal throne,
The prize I'd have, and that alone.’
By the great God whom I revere,
If proffer me thy royal throne,
The prize I'd have, and that alone.’
247
“Then take it thee; and be thou first
He that repents the claim accursed!
If I had ween'd that human might
Could e'er have reft them from my right,
I would have staked a kingdom's worth,
Ere that I valued most on earth.
Ah, hind! thou little art aware
Of what hath fall'n unto thy share!
Curse on these feats of youthful play,
Unmeet for men whose heads are gray!”
He that repents the claim accursed!
If I had ween'd that human might
Could e'er have reft them from my right,
I would have staked a kingdom's worth,
Ere that I valued most on earth.
Ah, hind! thou little art aware
Of what hath fall'n unto thy share!
Curse on these feats of youthful play,
Unmeet for men whose heads are gray!”
MacUiston grasp'd the treasure bright,
And ran, and laugh'd with all his might,
Loud jabbering something 'bout the Sun,
And kingly treasures fairly won;
While many a youth of Albyn's land
Follow'd the wight along the strand,
With clamour vast, and song combined,
Till far upon the wavy wind,
Within the Connel's winding coast,
The loud and jarring sounds were lost.
And ran, and laugh'd with all his might,
Loud jabbering something 'bout the Sun,
And kingly treasures fairly won;
While many a youth of Albyn's land
Follow'd the wight along the strand,
With clamour vast, and song combined,
Till far upon the wavy wind,
Within the Connel's winding coast,
The loud and jarring sounds were lost.
Fair maid of Albyn's latter day,
How brook'st thou now thy shepherd's lay?
Dost thou not grieve that royal blood
Should yield to vassal's dogged brood?
And grievest thou not that beauteous Hynde
Should in old fortress be confined,
And ne'er appear in martial show,
In proud defiance of her foe?
And, worst of all, the wayward Wene,
That thing of whim, caprice, and bane,
Is lost, transported to the skies,
To Odin's barbarous paradise;
Or borne to place unknown to man,
Save some uncouth, outlandish clan;
While he, the premier of the brave
For maiden's love or warrior's glaive,
Prince Haco of the northern main,
Is lost upon the battle-plain?
Full sorely art thou cross'd, I ween,
In what thou wishedst to have been;
The amends lie not within my power,
But in thine own, beloved flower!
How brook'st thou now thy shepherd's lay?
Dost thou not grieve that royal blood
Should yield to vassal's dogged brood?
And grievest thou not that beauteous Hynde
Should in old fortress be confined,
And ne'er appear in martial show,
In proud defiance of her foe?
And, worst of all, the wayward Wene,
That thing of whim, caprice, and bane,
Is lost, transported to the skies,
To Odin's barbarous paradise;
Or borne to place unknown to man,
Save some uncouth, outlandish clan;
While he, the premier of the brave
For maiden's love or warrior's glaive,
Prince Haco of the northern main,
Is lost upon the battle-plain?
Full sorely art thou cross'd, I ween,
In what thou wishedst to have been;
The amends lie not within my power,
But in thine own, beloved flower!
Be this thy lesson; pause, and think,
Fair seraph, leaning o'er the brink
Of sublunary joy and bliss,
The pale of human happiness.
Stretch not too far the boundary o'er,
To prove the sweets that float before,
Or certain is thy virgin meed;
To shed the tear and rue the deed!
Fair seraph, leaning o'er the brink
Of sublunary joy and bliss,
The pale of human happiness.
Stretch not too far the boundary o'er,
To prove the sweets that float before,
Or certain is thy virgin meed;
To shed the tear and rue the deed!
Can nought allay that burning thirst
That hath annoyed thee from the first;
That fluttering hope that spurns control;
That yearning of the aspiring soul,
Which gilds the future with a ray
Still brighter than thy present day,
And onward urges thee to strain
For what 'tis ruin to obtain?
That hath annoyed thee from the first;
That fluttering hope that spurns control;
That yearning of the aspiring soul,
Which gilds the future with a ray
Still brighter than thy present day,
And onward urges thee to strain
For what 'tis ruin to obtain?
Ah! that inherent fault in thee
Has ruin'd worlds, thyself, and me.
While yet thy lovely mould was new,
And pure as dawning's orient dew,
Bright as an angel's form could be,
A flower of immortality;—
Alas! when then thy sacred core
The germs of this impatience bore,
Which ill thy tongue can disavow;
What has thy bard to hope for now?
Has ruin'd worlds, thyself, and me.
While yet thy lovely mould was new,
And pure as dawning's orient dew,
Bright as an angel's form could be,
A flower of immortality;—
Alas! when then thy sacred core
The germs of this impatience bore,
Which ill thy tongue can disavow;
What has thy bard to hope for now?
One grace he asks, a trivial suit,
That thou for once this flame acute
Wilt conquer, and peruse along,
Straight to the end, his epic song,
Else he shall rue it to his cost;
His hope, his little charm is lost.
And can'st thou tarnish by a look
The treasures of his valued book?
Valued alone, when it hath proved
Itself by Scotia's maids beloved.
That thou for once this flame acute
Wilt conquer, and peruse along,
Straight to the end, his epic song,
Else he shall rue it to his cost;
His hope, his little charm is lost.
And can'st thou tarnish by a look
The treasures of his valued book?
Valued alone, when it hath proved
Itself by Scotia's maids beloved.
He once was crown'd by virgin's hand
The laureate of his native land,
While many a noble lady's voice
Lauded along the fond caprice.
By virtue of that office now,
Which maiden dares not disallow,
He hereby, in the sacred names
Of reason, right, and regal claims,
Debars, with due and stern regard,
The following characters unspared
From the plain banquet here prepared:—
The laureate of his native land,
While many a noble lady's voice
Lauded along the fond caprice.
By virtue of that office now,
Which maiden dares not disallow,
He hereby, in the sacred names
Of reason, right, and regal claims,
Debars, with due and stern regard,
The following characters unspared
From the plain banquet here prepared:—
First, he debars without redress,
All those of so much frowardness
As yield them to the subtile sway
Of their great foe on primal day,
And, without waiting to contend,
Begin the book at the wrong end,
And read it backward. By his crook,
This is a mode he will not brook!
All those of so much frowardness
As yield them to the subtile sway
Of their great foe on primal day,
And, without waiting to contend,
Begin the book at the wrong end,
And read it backward. By his crook,
This is a mode he will not brook!
Next, he debars all those who sew
Their faith unto some stale review;
That ulcer of our mental store,
The very dregs of manly lore;
Bald, brangling, brutal, insincere;
The bookman's venal gazetteer.
Down with the trash, and every gull
That gloats upon their garbage dull!
Their faith unto some stale review;
That ulcer of our mental store,
The very dregs of manly lore;
Bald, brangling, brutal, insincere;
The bookman's venal gazetteer.
Down with the trash, and every gull
That gloats upon their garbage dull!
He next debars (God save the mark!)
All those who read when it is dark;
Boastful of eyesight, harping on,
Page after page in mawkish tone,
And roll the flowing words off-hand,
Yet neither feel nor understand;
All those who read and doze by day,
To while the weary time away;
All maids in love; all jealous wives,
Plague of their own and husbands' lives;
All who have balls and routs to give
Within a fortnight; all who live
In open breach of any rule
Imposed by Calvin's rigid school;
All such as sit alone and weep;
All those who lisp, or talk in sleep;
Who simper o'er a fading flower,
Or sing before the breakfast hour.
All such have more whereof to think,
Than pages marbled o'er with ink;
And I beseech them keep the tone
Of their own thoughts—let mine alone!
All those who read when it is dark;
Boastful of eyesight, harping on,
Page after page in mawkish tone,
And roll the flowing words off-hand,
Yet neither feel nor understand;
All those who read and doze by day,
To while the weary time away;
248
Plague of their own and husbands' lives;
All who have balls and routs to give
Within a fortnight; all who live
In open breach of any rule
Imposed by Calvin's rigid school;
All such as sit alone and weep;
All those who lisp, or talk in sleep;
Who simper o'er a fading flower,
Or sing before the breakfast hour.
All such have more whereof to think,
Than pages marbled o'er with ink;
And I beseech them keep the tone
Of their own thoughts—let mine alone!
All those must next excluded be
Who feel no charm in melody;
That dogged, cold, slow-blooded set,
Who scarce know jig from minuet;
And, what is worse, pretend to love
Some foreign monstrous thing above
Their native measures, sweetly sung
By Scottish maid in Scottish tongue.
Who feel no charm in melody;
That dogged, cold, slow-blooded set,
Who scarce know jig from minuet;
And, what is worse, pretend to love
Some foreign monstrous thing above
Their native measures, sweetly sung
By Scottish maid in Scottish tongue.
He next debars all those who dare,
Whether with proud and pompous air,
With simpering frown, or nose elate,
To name the word indelicate!
For such may harp be never strung,
Nor warbling strain of Scotia sung;
But worst of guerdons be her meed,
The garret, poll, and apes to lead:
Such word or term should never be
In maiden's mind of modesty.
But little is the bard afraid
Of thee, to whom this tale is said.
Whether with proud and pompous air,
With simpering frown, or nose elate,
To name the word indelicate!
For such may harp be never strung,
Nor warbling strain of Scotia sung;
But worst of guerdons be her meed,
The garret, poll, and apes to lead:
Such word or term should never be
In maiden's mind of modesty.
But little is the bard afraid
Of thee, to whom this tale is said.
Oft hast thou grieved his heart full sore
With thy sly chat and flippant lore;
Thy emphasis on error small,
And smile, more cutting far than all;
The praise, half compliment, half mock,
The minstrel's name itself a joke!
But yet, for all thy airs and whims,
And lightsome lore the froth that skims,
He must acknowledge in the end
To 've found thee still the poet's friend,
His friend at heart: would jeer and blame;
But aught degrading to his fame
Would ne'er admit, nor join the gall
Of slanders mean and personal;
Therefore I bless thee, and engage
To profit by thy patronage.
With thy sly chat and flippant lore;
Thy emphasis on error small,
And smile, more cutting far than all;
The praise, half compliment, half mock,
The minstrel's name itself a joke!
But yet, for all thy airs and whims,
And lightsome lore the froth that skims,
He must acknowledge in the end
To 've found thee still the poet's friend,
His friend at heart: would jeer and blame;
But aught degrading to his fame
Would ne'er admit, nor join the gall
Of slanders mean and personal;
Therefore I bless thee, and engage
To profit by thy patronage.
Ah, how unlike art thou to those
(Warm friends profess'd, yet covert foes)
Who witness'd, grinning with despite,
A peasant's soul assume its right;
Rise from the dust, and mounting o'er
Their classic toils and boasted lore,
Take its aerial seat on high
Above their buckram fulgency.
In vain each venom'd shaft they tried,
The impartial world was on his side;
Their sport was marr'd—lost was the game—
The halloo hush'd and eke the name!
(Warm friends profess'd, yet covert foes)
Who witness'd, grinning with despite,
A peasant's soul assume its right;
Rise from the dust, and mounting o'er
Their classic toils and boasted lore,
Take its aerial seat on high
Above their buckram fulgency.
In vain each venom'd shaft they tried,
The impartial world was on his side;
Their sport was marr'd—lost was the game—
The halloo hush'd and eke the name!
Then lower stoop'd they for a fee
To poor and personal mockery;
The gait, the garb, the rustic speech,
All that could homely worth appeach,
Unweariedly, time after time,
In loathed and everlasting chime
They vended forth. Who would believe
There were such men? and who not grieve
That they should stoop, by ruthless game,
To stamp their own eternal shame?
While he, the butt of all their mocks,
Sits throned amid his native rocks
Above their reach, and grieves alone
For their unmanly malison.
To poor and personal mockery;
The gait, the garb, the rustic speech,
All that could homely worth appeach,
Unweariedly, time after time,
In loathed and everlasting chime
They vended forth. Who would believe
There were such men? and who not grieve
That they should stoop, by ruthless game,
To stamp their own eternal shame?
While he, the butt of all their mocks,
Sits throned amid his native rocks
Above their reach, and grieves alone
For their unmanly malison.
And so dost thou: the base and mean
Will gloat, and scorn, and scoff, I ween.
So be it. We must now pursue
Our theme, for we have much to do;
And if before the closing measure,
I yield thee not the promised pleasure,
Then must I from my patrons sever,
And give my darlings up for ever.
Will gloat, and scorn, and scoff, I ween.
So be it. We must now pursue
Our theme, for we have much to do;
And if before the closing measure,
I yield thee not the promised pleasure,
Then must I from my patrons sever,
And give my darlings up for ever.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |