The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival :: :: University of Virginia Library

[The three Norns (Nornir) were the three Fates or Destinies of the Scandinavian Mythology. They were really only personifications of the three periods of time: the Past (Urd), the Present (Verandi), and the Future (Skuld).]

Urd.
Far in the depths of ages gone I dwell,—
Around me forms of earliest splendor rise;
Temple and heaven-like dome, with graceful swell,
Blend, in their brightness, with the orient skies.
On pyramid and column, glorious, shine
High myths of heroes, carved in mystic line;
Mysterious light o'er all, from Heaven, is thrown:
And songs of glory fill the vocal air,
Aloft the deeds of fame sublimely bear;
Deep as the thunder, but how sweet, their tone!

373

Verandi.
On the rushing stream I sweep along;
Sun-bright o'er me swells the cloudless blue;
Joys around, a gay, triumphant throng,
Lead me on, with high and cheerful song,
Give me ever greetings, bright and new.
Onward still the stream, in golden glow,
Heaves and tosses, as if life were there:
Warm and kindling, breathes the inspiring air;
Wakened by its touch, in bounding flow,
Thought and feeling in the joyance share.

Urd.
Calm, on my high-piled trophies, I repose,—
On polished bronze I grave the immortal lay.
A stream, from unseen fountain, by me flows,
And hurrying bears my scattered leaves away.
That is the rushing stream that leads thee on:
Catch from its wave the leaves that, in the sun,
Quick flash, like ice-gems in the dawn's first light.
These from the holy past to thee are borne:
Look reverent back, nor, in thy joyance, scorn
The gifts from me that make thy present bright.

Verandi.
In my heart a living spirit burns,
Nerved to earnest act and daring deed.
Never, as it hastens, back it turns;
All the past holds buried in its urns
Win it not to check its onward speed.
Who would give this glorious world around,
Sun-bright stream, and fair and flowery shore,
Hopes, like visions, leading on before,
On, in light, to time's remotest bound,—
Give, for all the great thou hast in store!

Urd.
Then speed thee reckless on,—but I remain,
Where ancient glories still unfading tower:
Deeds such as mine shall ne'er be done again,—
The fruits of godlike thought and Titan power.

374

Where, in the mystic light of orient skies,
Vast pyramid and massive temple rise,
In shade of sacred laurel I recline.
The golden sun of morning meets me there;
The first-born world, around me, fresh and fair,—
Its life, its love, its music, all divine!

Verandi.
On the rushing stream, away! away!
While the moments win us, speed along!
As the favoring winds around us play,
We have, too, a heart-inspiring lay;
Only joy and hope awake our song.
Or should tempest meet me on my path,
Fearlessly my track I still pursue;
Strength and skill is mine, to bear me through;
Soon the wasting storm shall spend its wrath,—
Joyous day again its light renew.

Skuld.

Far on the boundless deep I hold my throne,
Where clouds and darkness rear their wondrous wall:
Deep in their solemn shades I dwell alone;
No stranger's foot has ever touched my hall.
The stream of time still rushes to the main;
Its golden waves attract the eye in vain:
Amid the clouds that round me rise afar,
One faint light draws it, like a magic star.

That light is from my shrine;—in fuller glow
It burns, than all your brightest years have known:
Still burns it on, in one eternal flow,
When past and present fame is ever gone.
Speed on, then, o'er the deep! though, dim and dark,
High heave the clouds, be that your beacon mark!
Through the dun shades ye pass; then holiest day
Sweeps, in illimitable bliss, away!