The Sea-King A metrical romance, in six cantos. With notes, historical and illustrative. By J. Stanyan Bigg |
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| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| I. |
| II. | PART II.—The Shipwreck. |
| IV. |
| I. |
| III. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| V. |
| IV. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| VI. |
 | The Sea-King |  |
85
II. PART II.—The Shipwreck.
XXIX.
There is no sight in heaven, or earth, or hell,More terrible
Than the fierce stormy ocean,—
Go view it in that hour
When tossed in wild commotion
It puts forth all its power.—
How the fierce waters leap, and rush, and drive,
As though in their wild fury they would strive
To ascend high heaven, and rive
From their primeval seat, the heavenly host!
XXX.
When like the frenzy of a dream,The shocked ear on the whirling blast
May catch, as it flies past,
The Demon's wild discordant scream,
Or laugh of dissonance.
It seems as though the furies of deep hell,
Were all let loose to work their purpose fell,
Their purpose of malignity,
86
And that they love to dwell
For-ever, in the turbulential motion
Of the mad and foaming sea, the frenzy of the ocean.
XXXI.
Three nights, three days, the tempest fierce has lasted;And now the evening of the fourth arrives,
Yet still upon the wave,
That yawns before it like a greedy grave,
The lost ship madly drives.
Its helm, and masts were long since torn away,
By the strong incessant blast,
That ever whirleth past
On wings of rapid fury through the air;—
The seamen in despair
Have long since yielded up the guidance of their ship
To those fell sprites who sweep the troubled air,
And dance and skip
In the dread lightning's lurid glare.
Now the mad ship would seem to rise,
And pierce the misty texture of the skies:
87
It would descend,
As though the bosom of the sea to tear,—
Then with a start and splash
It darted here, it darted there,
To left, to right, above, below,
Around, and everywhere.
XXXII.
The night draws on apace,And still the whirling ship—
With crash and splash, with leap and skip,
Maintains its dreadful race:
Now on the mighty ocean upward bending,
Now like the bolt of heaven descending.
The seamen of that vessel once were proud,
And aye they one and all were brave;
But now,—a timid band
They pale and shivering stand,—
And shrink with horror from the cloud
That rises from the boiling wave,
88
And that their fated grave.
XXXIII.
The current drove the ship one way,And the roaring winds another;
Yet on it went, without intent
Upon its path of woe,
As swift as is an arrow sent
From a sturdy twanging bow.
Just then one pale and ghastly beam of light
Came through the veil of the incumbent night.
Whence came that transitory beam?
It matters not;—it came, it came
And rested like a bloody flame
Above that fated ship,
That onward sped more fleet than air,
Upon its path of woe, its path of dark despair.
XXXIV.
And aye that light revealed89
As chill as is the stagnant flood,
When by stern winter's frost congealed.
As swift as passes through the air
The flash from the impending thunder-cloud,
Came thundering on its darkened way
(Reflecting the red glare
That ever lay
Athwart the bleaching heavens,)
Riding upon its chariot proud
A mass of ice; a wondrous isle,
Stretching from east to west full many a mile.
XXXV.
Towards its own destruction swiftly spedThe fated vessel; while the crew
Frozen with horror, silent as the dead
Too swiftly grew
To their own hearts, and courage tried, untrue.
Wildly they gazed about for help,—
No help was near.
90
And yea with fearful speed the vessel went,
As though impatient, and in haste
To be by that strange mass embraced,—
Upon its own destruction bent.
Between them and their fate still lay
The dark and dread abyss,—
The path o'er which they took their way
Towards the land of woe, or bliss.
Darkly the red light on the waters beamed,
Darkly the waters to the red light gleamed.
XXXVI.
But he, the chieftain of that fated shipGazed with an aspect stern upon the seas,
As if in fierce defiance of the breeze,
And of the dreadful waves that play, and skip
In cruel mock'ry of man's woe:
With folded arms he stood,
And gazed upon the dark and foaming flood
That boiled below.
91
By the red light that blazed
Far overhead, the Sea-King gazed
Upon his own approaching destiny;
Betraying no emotion, not a sigh
Escaped him, but unmoved still
He viewed the threatening sky;
Nor winds, nor waves, nor powers of good or ill
Could bend his stubborn will:
He proudly gazed upon his restless tomb,
Nor with averted eye surveyed his doom.
XXXVII.
With fearful speed towards the frozen mass,See the mad vessel o'er the waters pass,
It comes,—it comes,—and loud the waters roar,
Sea-monsters on their way
Gambol and lash that sea without a shore,
And gather round their prey.
The wild winds whistle, and the lightnings flash,
The heavens thunder, and the waters crash.—
92
And aye they seemed to gaze with dizzy eye
Spectators of a fearful destiny
Awaiting others than themselves;—but nigh
And with a noise like thunder
The dreadful island drew; and then on high
The shivered fragments of the lost ship flew;
And one destruction whelmed, the vessel and its crew.
XXXVIII.
The tempest paused,—the mighty wavesSeemed filled with horror at their tragic deed:
But soon again, across the main
Like the fierce champing warlike steed
Upon the battle plain,
(When its dilated nostrils scent afar
The direful carnage of the sanguine war)
They in their fury came again:—
And leaping up to heaven, and thundering down to hell,
They rose and fell,
Darkling in ire, and rushing downward crashing
93
Turbid and fierce, they onward darted, splashing,
And with a noise like thunder:
And still the tempest with incessant roar,
Rushed o'er that furious sea, without a shore.
XXXIX.
A moment since,—two hundred beings stoodAbove that dark enfuriated flood;
And now,—alas! for their ill-fated destiny
They sink, to prove the dread profundity
Of that inhospitable sea,
And all, alas! are gone:—
But what is that dark object? See
How the black waters with fell swoop and swing
Break o'er it;—'tis a human being; one
Who struggles hard for life; 'tis he, 'tis he
The terrible Sea-King!
Fainting he clings to one detached mass
Of ice, that down the current strives to pass:
His chin already rests upon its brink,
94
Riding to heaven upon the wave:—they sink
With one tremendous crash, into the gulph below!
XL.
The mass broke from him, and away it sped;And now all helpless on the troubled sea
Ragnar looked round him; hope, alas! seemed fled,
And he prepared to meet his destiny.
It comes, it comes! for, towering to the sky,
And like a rolling mountain, proud and high,
The huge wave rushes o'er his head.
Oh! how shall he escape the waters? How
Shall his existence be continued now?
Far over him the swelling mountains rise,
And threat to deluge the impending skies;
Yet still determined not to yield his breath,
Nor unsubdued, resign himself to death;
Ragnar like one exhausted by his foes,
Struggling, and buoyant, to the surface rose.
95
XLI.
Now for a moment on the liquid plain,The Sea-King wearied lay;
When near him in its rough uneven way,
A thundering mass of ice came on amain.
He darted at it;—and with eager speed
Seized it with hands whose frozen fingers bleed.
Now summoning every energy, he tries
To mount the slippery surface. The emprize
Is one of life or death;—he mounts it or he dies.
The strife was fearful, but the man was brave,
And unsubdued in soul by wind or wave.
He gains the surface with his vent'rous knee
And baffles for a time, the raging sea.
XLII.
Proudly the Sea-King gazed around.—Oh! thus to be alone on such a night;
No land, no country near,
No friend the troubled soul to cheer,
No feeling, sight, or sound
96
No comfort but a tear!
A tear,—a tear?—but no!
A tear was never shed
By that dread man, he may not show
His weakness thus; nor weep for woe,
Or aught beside, save for the dead!
The dead may justly claim the tear,
From those who never knew a fear.
XLIII.
It is a saddening thoughtThat now his bosom rends.—
Those faithful men whom he had brought
Far from their country and their friends,
Had fallen and perished, one and all,
And not as warriors love to fall!
'Midst scenes of terror and of strife,
'Tis bliss to yield up breath and life.
Thus had they fall'n their streaming blood
Had proved their courage tried;
97
Like children they had died;
And oh! he felt their shame to rest
Like a dead weight, within his breast.
XLIV.
Just then behind a cloud,Like a pale spectre in its shroud,
The trembling moonbeams fell upon the raging sea.
It was a dreadful sight
That burst upon the Sea-King's view;
The pale and glimmering light
Just served to show the horrors of the night.
Above him hung a threatening canopy,
But down below,
More dark, more fearful, than the sky,
And full of woe,
Roared the terrific sea.
He gazed around,—and on his sight
Broke a chaotic world of leaping mountains,
That, liquid, sparkled in the light
98
See how he starts;—oh! sight of bliss,
Another being dwells on the abyss!
XLV.
But he who broke upon the Sea-King's view,Alas! was not of his ill-fated crew.
See through the air how gloriously he rides,
And in his pride the tossing sea derides.
Now up to heaven upon the waves he flies,
And hides his person in the veiling skies.
Then downward glides
And in the ocean's bosom hides,—
That seems to shroud him in his grave;
Thus now above, and now below,
He ever tosses to and fro,
And dances on the wave:
Approaching nearer, and more near;—
It was a wondrous sight
To see him thus ascend the air;
His silvery hair
99
More wondrous still, a sight of fear,
That old man held a lamp, whose lurid glare
Was that ill-omened light
That hung above the ship in its despair!
XLVI.
That red light glared upon the floodThat boiled below,
With a lurid glow
Like a convulsing sea of blood.
And then a muttering sound
Burst o'er the dread profound,
Deep as a voice sent from an ancient sepulchre.
“Frail man what dost thou here?”
Broke on the Sea-King's ear.
And over head he saw the lambent flame
Dart here and there
Its lurid glare;—
And in a tone of mockery,
A voice that issued from the sea
100
And something whispered in his ear
These words again “frail man what dost thou here?”
XLVII.
The Sea-King feared not death;And he was bold and brave;
And yet he held his very breath
To gaze at him who wandered on the wave.
And in a tone far more imperious than before,
A tone of dread and fear,
That voice demanded “man what dost thou here?”
“What brought me here shall ever rest
A secret locked within my breast,”
The brave Sea-King replied:
“But if my melancholy tale
May, man of wonder, aught avail,—
I will relate to thee my woe,
Provided thou wilt show
On what dread sea I sail.”
“Granted!” a thrilling voice replied,
101
XLVIII.
“Short is my tale, not so my list of woes”Ragnar began;
“I who ne'er shrank before my foes
Or mortal man,
Have had a feeling in my bosom here,
Too much like that which men call fear.
Tis hard to war against the skies,
And have the waves for enemies,
Yet such has been my lot;—
My business led to the Norwegian coast,
Think not that I forgot
(I say it not in boast,)
To move the Gods who govern sea and air,
By gifts and sacrifice and prayer:
That they propitious, would my voyage bless
And grant me what I sought,—success.
XLIX.
“I thought the Gods had surely heard my prayer,102
Until the long desired land
Burst full upon our view;—
Its frozen hills of snowy hue,
Its dark forbidding strand.
Just then there rose from out the seas,
Dark curling mists; that on the breeze
Surrounded us full fast;
Yet still we wandered o'er the sea,
And hoped to reach our destiny
Borne onward by the blast.—
Vain hope! for through the mists, the light
Like some half-spent, and flickering flame,
So faint, so dim, and glimmering came
We knew not day from night!
Yet on,—and on,—as if by some mysterious helmsman guided
Our vessel swiftly glided;—
And nights and days and weeks have past
Since we surveyed the North-Land last!
103
L.
“So long had we been on the seas,So long had bent beneath the breeze,
We might have travelled where the Gods had birth,
And spanned the seas that gird the solid earth.
When on a fatal day
The vapours cleared away,—
Once more we hailed the cheering light,
(Better have been involved in night!)
For to our half-extinguished sight
The black heavens told us of the tomb,
The raging waters spake our doom!
LI.
“We saw we were alone,The habitable earth, far, far behind;—
The seamen with a sigh and groan
Themselves to fate resigned.
Soon rose the fierce expected blast,
And then the waves on high,
Bore us into the blackening sky;
104
We saw huge icebergs on the waters cast
And heard them crashing nigh:
But dark as are the shadows of the tomb
The mists came on again, and wrapped us in their gloom.
LII.
“Three nights, three days we wandered on our way,Still by the tempest tost;
Our helm and masts were rent away
We were already lost!
And now the evening of a fourth arrives,
And still our helpless vessel madly drives
Towards the bleaching North:—
The night set in with a roaring din
As though hell's fiends had issued forth;
A mass of ice came in the vessel's way,
And she at once a wreck, all shivered lay!
It was this thrice-accursed night,
My own brave followers sank below;
This night they bade farewell to light,
105
Of friends, of hope, of every good bereft
I,—I alone, of all the crew am left.—
My tale is ended, and I wait to know
What, man of wonder, thou hast yet to show.”
LIII.
“Ragnar! and dost thou think” he said,With a stern voice and full of dread;
“To hide aught from that searching eye
That reads thy future destiny?
And thinkest thou that aught can rest,
A secret locked within thy breast
That is not known to me?
Go where thou wilt, let any sky be o'er thee,
I tell thee King I have been there before thee.
Thy tongue needs not thy purpose tell,
For aye long since I knew full well
Why thus thou sought'st the sea!
And who I am thou soon shalt know,
And where thou art,—short time will show,
106
He said,—the leaping waves anon,
Lift high their foamy crests,—and he is gone.
LIV.
Just then the heavens seemed rent in twain,And the moon shone clearly on the troubled main.
Ragnar had felt a strange unwonted motion,
No waves he had encountered, but seemed sliding
Upon the surface of a tranquil ocean,
And swiftly gliding.
But when the moonbeams issued forth,
To set himself at rest,
He gazed to the south and north,
He gazed to east and west.
A strange sight burst upon his view;—
“Is this a dream or is it true?”
The wondering Sea-King said;
The sky still held its threatening hue,
The unabated tempest blew,
And whistled overhead:
107
So swift he scarce could draw his breath,—
Against the wind he seemed to pass
Upon a lake of liquid glass.
LV.
At distance still, like a vast watery wall,The undulating waves still rise and fall:
Far as his eye can reach, the waters rise,
And leap into the lowering skies.
But when he looks around,
He views a black revolving lake,
On which no waters ever break
With their crashing, dinning sound.
Close to the waves (had they been land,
He might have leaped upon the strand,)
He flew, and flew full fast;
And when he stretched out his hand
It cut the whistling blast.
What was it that thus urged him on?
He knew not;—but all hope was gone!
108
LVI.
Ragnar now saw that he was moving round,For his back was towards the moon;
Then on his ear there broke full soon
A distant, rumbling sound.
Thrice round that lake as fleet as air he sped,
While the wild winds whistled past,
And the pale moon beamed far overhead,—
Upon the scene he cast
His firm unflinching eye;
But his great soul shrank in his haughty breast,
When he gazed on that unwonted scene,
And strange, and unknown fears opprest
His stubborn heart I ween.
He saw that he was whirling round and round
With dread rapidity;
Approaching fast the centre of that pitchy lake:—
And now a dire tremendous sound
Broke on his ear, and wholly drowned
The tempest of the distant sea.
109
LVII.
That was a night of contrasts; in the skyThe moon hung out her lamp so fair;
But down below, the storm raged high,
And still the leaping waters fly
Far up into the air.
All round, the wild waves surge and swing,
And threaten from afar;
And wage a vain impotent war
Against the fierce Sea-King,
Encircled as he seems, within a charmed ring.
But round and round incessant still he flies,
And nearer to the dreadful centre hies.
Just then a fearful thought shot through his brain,
And in a tone of agony,
He said “it cannot,—cannot be,—
Yet to conceal the truth is vain;
I am not now impelled by wave or breeze,
Yet on I move with ease
Around this watery plain.
Alas! this is that place of dread,
110
Beneath the chambers of the seas,
And moulder with the dead.
So let it be;—I am prepared to die,
My friends have gone before, now follow I.”
LVIII.
So spake the dread Sea-King;—and now the soundThat long at distance seemed, broke on the sense
With such tremendous violence
That the swol'n nerves, with throb, and bound,
Proclaimed the power immense.
On,—on,—and ever on he flies,
And now he hangs right o'er the dread abyss,
Now dances on the verge
Of the dire precipice:
Still he preserves a stern unruffled brow,
Although in him hope has no being now.
Hope is a thing to laugh at there,
The Maël-Strom will admit, no feeling but despair.
LIX.
The Maël-Strom? aye the Maël-Strom,—'tis a name111
Down the deep vortex now the Sea-King whirls
Beyond the reach of sight:
He looks into the yawning gulph below;—
And in that dread abyss of night
He spies the red and glaring light,
The harbinger of woe!
Guiding him onward in his dreadful flight.
But far above, those wheeling walls of water,
Down which he hurries to the hidden deep,
(Where haply his bare bones must sleep)
Like a small speck of sickly blue,
The overhanging sky
Breaks on his dizzy eye,—
Then vanishes from view.
And now enshrouded in the deepest night
Senseless he wheels his deadly flight,
His pulse beats not, nor gasps he now for breath,
As though already in the jaws of death,
Entranced he closes now his eyes,
Yet pauses not, but ever hies
A thousand fathoms down;—into the gulph he flies.
| The Sea-King | |