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Idyls of Norway and other poems

Boyesen, Hjalmar Hjorth (1848-1895)

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[section]
  
DEDICATION TO L. K. B.
  
THE LOST HELLAS.
  
ELEGY ON A. G. L.
  
AWAKE!
  
THE MINSTREL AT CASTLE GARDEN.
  
ELEGY ON PRESIDENT GARFIELD.
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IDYLS OF NORWAY.
  
BRIER-ROSE.
  
HILDA'S LITTLE HOOD.
  
THORALF AND SYNNÖV.
  
LITTLE SIGRID.
  
MARIT AND I.
  
THORA.
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EARL SIGURD'S CHRISTMAS EVE., Etc.
  
EARL SIGURD'S CHRISTMAS EVE.
  
NORWAY.
  
THE NIXY.
  
AN EVERY-DAY TRAGEDY.
  
THE ELF-MAIDENS.
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NORSE STAVES.
  
INTRODUCTION.
  
STAVE IN “GUNNAR.”
  
COME, FAIREST MAID.
  
TELL ME, ILKA.
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SONNETS.
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JUNO LUDOVISI.
 1. 
[I. White, silent goddess, whose divine repose]
 2. 
[II. Sublime the thought that dwells within this stone]
 3. 
[III. Come, gentle mother, and resume thy sway]
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EVOLUTION.
 1. 
[I. Broad were the bases of all being laid]
 2. 
[II. I am the child of earth and air and sea]
 3. 
[III. A sacred kinship I would not forego]
 4. 
[IV. I stood and gazed with wonder blent with awe]
 5. 
[V. Sublime is life, though in beginnings base]
  
TO BAYARD TAYLOR.
 1. 
I.—THE SEA.
 2. 
II.—THE AIR.
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TO LILLIE.
 1. 
I SAT AND GAZED INTO THE BURNING SKY.
 2. 
I SAW THE LILY PALE AND PERFECT GROW.
 3. 
WITHIN THE ROSE I FOUND A TREMBLING TEAR.
 4. 
HOW CAN I LIGHTLY SPEAK THY WONDROUS NAME.
 5. 
AN ANXIOUS WHISPER STEALS UNTO MY EAR.
 6. 
THY GRACIOUS FACE I GREET WITH GLAD SURPRISE.
 7. 
YES, MY OLD SELF IS DEAD; AND IT IS WELL.
 8. 
IF I SHOULD LOSE THEE, DARLING, AND BEHOLD.
 9. 
I SAW THEE DRIFTING, DRIFTING FAR AWAY.
 10. 
I WONDER OFT WHY GOD, WHO IS SO GOOD.
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CALPURNIA.
 1. 
I. PRELUDE.
 2. 
II. IN THE PALACE OF THE CÆSARS.
 3. 
III. IN THE FLAVIAN ARENA.
 4. 
IV. IN THE CATACOMBS OF ST. CALIXTUS.

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129

TO BAYARD TAYLOR.

(Dedication of a Biography of Goethe.)

Unto those altitudes of thought where day
Reigns e'er serene, where unrelenting law
Guides circling worlds and growth of tiniest straw,
Thou led'st with prescient step my doubting way.
And from those radiant heights where naught could stay
The daring eye, there burst upon my view,
Uplooming 'gainst eternity's vast blue,
The image of the mighty sage. The gray,
Forgotten ages spread about his throne
As if his lofty solitude to guard,
And large, eternal voices—Nature's own—
Spoke to the wakeful senses of her bard.
Here have I traced the record of his fame;
Let me inscribe it, friend, with thy dear name.
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