 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE DESERTED FYLGIA.
Like a meteor, radiant, streaming,
Seems her hair to me,
And thou bear'st her feet like lilies,
Dark and chilly sea!
Seems her hair to me,
And thou bear'st her feet like lilies,
Dark and chilly sea!
Wannish fires enclasp her bosom,
Like the Northern Light,
And like icicles her fingers
Glisten, locked and white.
Like the Northern Light,
And like icicles her fingers
Glisten, locked and white.
On the blue and icy ocean,
As a stony floor,
Toward thy boat, O dying Viking,
Walks she evermore!
As a stony floor,
Toward thy boat, O dying Viking,
Walks she evermore!
Like a star on morning's forehead,
When the intense air,
Sweeping o'er the face of heaven,
Lays its far depths bare—
When the intense air,
Sweeping o'er the face of heaven,
Lays its far depths bare—
Is the beauty of her smiling,
Pale and cold and clear—
What, O fearful, dying Viking,
Doth the maiden here?
Pale and cold and clear—
What, O fearful, dying Viking,
Doth the maiden here?
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Hath the wretched hell-maid, Belsta,
Ever crossed her way,
Weirdly driving herds of cattle,
Cattle dark and gray?
Ever crossed her way,
Weirdly driving herds of cattle,
Cattle dark and gray?
Hath she seen the maids of Skulda
Draw from Urda's well
Water where the awful snake-king
Gnaws the roots of hell?
Draw from Urda's well
Water where the awful snake-king
Gnaws the roots of hell?
Hath she seen the harts that ever
Haunt the ashen tree,
Keeping all its buds from blooming?
Viking, answer me!
Haunt the ashen tree,
Keeping all its buds from blooming?
Viking, answer me!
Moaningly his white lips tremble,
But no voice replies—
Starlight in the blue waves frozen,
Seem his closing eyes.
But no voice replies—
Starlight in the blue waves frozen,
Seem his closing eyes.
Woman's lot is thine, O Fylgia,
Mourning broken faith,
And her mighty love outlasting
Chance and change and death!
Mourning broken faith,
And her mighty love outlasting
Chance and change and death!
“A Scandinavian warrior, having embraced Christianity, and being attacked by disease which he thought mortal, was naturally anxious that a spirit who had accompanied him through his pagan career should not attend him into that other world, where her society might involve him in disagreeable consequences. The persevering Fylgia, however, in the shape of a fair maiden, walked on the waves of the sea, after her Viking's ship.”
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |