The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) Selected and revised by the author. Copyright edition. In two volumes |
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![]() | The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) | ![]() |
177
THE DEATH OF KING HACON.
I
It was Odin that whisper'd in Vingolf,“Go forth to the heath by the sea;
Find Hacon before the moon rises,
And bid him to supper with me.”
II
They go forth to choose from the PrincesOf Yngvon, and summons from fight
A man who must perish in battle,
And sup where the gods sup to-night.
III
Leaning over her brazen spear, GondulaThus bespake her companions, “The feast
Of the gods shall, in Vingolf, this evening,
O ye Daughters of War, be encreast.
IV
“For Odin hath beckon'd unto me,For Odin hath whisper'd me forth,
To bid to his supper King Hacon
With the half of the hosts of the North.”
178
V
Their horses gleam'd white through the vapour:In the moonlight their corselets did shine:
As they waver'd and whisper'd together,
And fashion'd their solemn design.
VI
Hacon heard them discoursing—“Why hast thouThus disposed of the battle so soon?
Oh were we not worthy of conquest?
Lo! we die by the rise of the moon.”
VII
“It is not the moon that is rising,But the glory which penetrates death,
When heroes to Odin are summon'd:
Rise, Hacon, and stand on the heath!
VIII
“It is we,” she replied, “that have givenTo thy pasture the flower of the fight,
It is we, it is we, that have scatter'd
Thine enemies yonder in flight.
IX
“Come now, let us push on our horsesOver yonder green worlds in the east,
Where the great gods are gather'd together,
And the tables are piled for the feast.
179
X
“Betimes to give notice to Odin,Who waits in his sovran abodes,
That the King to his palace is coming
This evening to visit the gods.”
XI
Odin rose when he heard it, and with himRose the gods, every god to his feet.
He beckon'd Hermoder and Brago,
They came to him, each from his seat.
XII
“Go forth, O my sons, to King Hacon,And meet him and greet him from all,
A King that we know by his valour
Is coming to-night to our hall.”
XIII
Then saintly King Hacon approaches,Arriving from battle, and sore
With the wounds that yet bleed through his armour,
Bedabbled and dripping with gore.
XIV
His visage is pallid and awefulWith the awe and pallor of death,
Like the moon that at midnight arises
Where the battle lies strewn on the heath.
180
XV
To him spake Hermoder and Brago,“We meet thee and greet thee from all,
To the gods thou art known by thy valour,
And they bid thee a guest to their hall.
XVI
“Come hither, come hither, King Hacon,And join those eight brothers of thine,
Who already, awaiting thy coming,
With the gods in Walhala recline.
XVII
“And loosen, O Hacon, thy corselet,For thy wounds are yet ghastly to see.
Go, pour ale in the circle of heroes,
And drink, for the gods drink to thee!
XVIII
But he answer'd, the hero, “I neverWill part with the armour I wear.
Shall a warrior stand before Odin
Unshamed, without helmet and spear?”
XIX
Black Fenris, the wolf, the destroyer,Shall arise and break loose from his chain,
Before that a hero like Hacon
Shall stand in the battle again.
![]() | The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) | ![]() |