University of Virginia Library

CANTO THE FOURTH. The Vola.

I.

Ye Virtues! guardian Spirits of the Good!
Be ye not absent in extremity,
As some have charged ye — when, by Fate subdued,
Ye did avail not: — though, I ween, their eye
Judged of the present too impatiently,
Nor saw of hope the failure and delay
Was Wisdom's work, to aid the future joy —
But, oh! your ready ægis now display,
This be the perfect time! and this the fated day!
Be ye not absent in the groves of bliss,
Culling the dew of time from heavenly flower,
That may reward the present bitterness —
Bend now with aid from your ambrosial bower!
Be ye not like the gale, in needful hour,
Whose distant breath the thistle's beard pursued,
That should have sped the Maid to Etha's tower,
With Usnoth's valiant sons: — so not in blood,
By Cairbar's hate, had fallen the fair, the young, the good.

II.

Such were his thoughts, I ween, whose mind,
'Mid peril, girt with danger,
Ay, still to harmony resigned,
To fear remained a stranger:
Such Edwy's thoughts, whose eagle soul
Of thrilling song spurned earth's control,
Borne by whose wing he soared on high,
Secure, though death itself were nigh!
And now he marked, undaunted yet,
The giant Chieftain foam and fret,
And scanned his dark brow, as it grew
Deeper in its demon hue,
And knitted o'er his fierce red eye
Such gloom, as shades but ill
The flashes that incessant fly
In sidelong fury still.
So lightnings from the pregnant cloud,
Blackened with storms, advance
Before the thunder, that aloud
Peals o'er broad heaven's expanse.
Nor silent was the brooded rage
His meteor glances did presage,
Shooting with wild and maniac fire,
Desperate as wild, and fierce in ire.

III.

“What may this mean? a gnawing chain,
“Invisible, and clankless, still
“My struggling spirit doth restrain,
“In secret — striking cold and chill
“E'en to its inmost, as the hand of Fate
“Had on its shrinking powers sate! —
“Avaunt, ye doubts! suspense, avaunt!
“What! bearded e'en in thine own haunt!
“No! Lothbroch, be as thou art wont!
“Ye are my victims! — ye, whose dread
“Hath borrowed Darkness' guardian shade,
“To meet me front to front afraid. —
“I know ye could not raise that veil
“Without the aid of power more great,
“Who promised you ye should not fail,
“That ye in me might find your fate.
“Presumptuous, as ye were, in hope
“With Lothbroch's outraged wrath to cope!
“Mad that ye were, to tear away
“From his fierce grasp his proper prey!
“No tigress of her whelps bereft
“Through forest rages more —
“My faulchion, to the very heft,
“Is clotted with your gore!
“Though, congregated, every cloud
“Give to your trembling limbs a shroud,
“I'll burst through all, and rend ye thence,
“And wrap ye in far deeper cloud —
“Death, death shall be your recompence,
“And hell shall be your shroud!”

IV.

Furious he said; and, with a giant bound,
Burst through the veil: —'tis scattered all around:
Its part performed, the guardian Saint dismissed
The needless gloom; — and every shadow hist.
Revealed, the Robber's magic brand
Rushed fiercely upon Agilnoth,
His steel is in the Husband's hand,
And meets its falling wrath!
Over his loved one in his arms,
Insensible till now,
Their weapons clashed, and waked her charms
To motion's fevered glow.
Then to her Father's bosom he
Resigned his Arabel; —
“Have care of her for me, and thee,
“While on this miscreant's crest I tell
“Our vengeance, and his doom of hell!”

V.

She is upon her Father's breast,
But not as child her Father meets —
Neither caressing nor carest!
He but sustains, and she retreats
Into his arms instinctively —
On Agilnoth was fixed the eye;
The soul was bound — the heart was bent
On that important strife's event —
In dubious opposition met,
Their looks were into sternness set;
But neither struck — their lifted steel
Was edge to edge opposed —
A pause — that when again they deal,
The conflict may be closed.

VI.

But what of Edwy? — lo, beside
His Brother, to defend,
He stood, and round the Cavern eyed,
In quest of some neglected brand,
To soldier his unarmed hand,
Every danger to attend,
Present to redeem his thrall,
Present to revenge his fall. —
Ay, if he sink, his rushing strength
Shall breast his foeman's sabre's length,
And, plucked from his Brother's palsied hand,
Wave in the Robber's sight the renovate brand,
Like the spirit of Vengeance from Heaven swift-darted,
Incircled with terrors, ethereally hearted,
Incircled with fire, and sworded with flame,
As sudden as lightning, and strong as the same!

VII.

High Lothbroch, master of the spell,
With wonder had surveyed his steel;
No temper yet Its edge had met,
But into shivers fell! —
He little deemed on Virtue's side
The strength of Heaven was allied,
And that the arm of Justice held
A power not to be repelled:
Albeit, I ween, His sword had been,
By charms of darkness, wrought so keen,
Bathed in the Styx, and forged in Hell,
To make its edge invincible;
But he, who on the Right contended,
Well knew the foe, and how defended,
And had, with hallowed murmurs pure,
Blessed its weapon to endure —
Nay more — at his high will, to sunder
Whate'er opposed its dint of thunder!
Of this the Chieftain little deemed,
And less his wild presumption dreamed,
That they, to whom himself he gave,
Had but juggled to enslave
His soul, with promises that were
Meant only to deceive the ear,
And wind him in mad hope on high,
With fiercer pangs to fall and die!

VIII.

The sound of a whirlwind! — a rushing shock! —
The bandit-haunts rock;
Nor Lothbroch himself that tempest may mock:
And terror came on him — the Mariner's dread,
When the white herds of Neptune low over his head!

“Muggiando sopra il mar'va il gregge bianco.”

Ariosto.

And then burst on their sight, though whence none knew,
A Form, that seemed a Spirit to view,
And those storms of dismay, The sounds of her way,
That herald her coming in dreadful array —
But lo! her robes of lucid ether
Condense in deeper folds together,
And to a more substantial form
Resolves the shape that came in the storm —
A form of this world — but still it retained
The air of another — wherever she reigned —
She parted their swords —'tis the Lady they saw
So late at the Well, wildly beauteous in awe!
And Lothbroch beholds, with amazement and dread,
The Vola Gunilda — the mistress and head
Of his Scandinian wild arts, whence his power begun, —
And by the terrible blast of her anger 'tis done!
And comes she in wrath? — those eyeballs of fire,
Those pale cheeks of vengeance, confess her fierce ire,
And the lips that quiver ere they breathe
The fury that struggles her bosom beneath!
The rage hath found way, and her maddening soul
Is streamed in her speech, and is sealed in her scowl.

IX.

“Ingrate! 'tis well! — remember still
“Thou art the vassal to my will,
“Of my mere pleasure but the slave,
“That well can take the power it gave;
“And shudder, as the damned who feel
“The wrath of Jove in thunder-peal,
“In lightning-flash, to groaning hell
“Speaking fresh chains, and torment fell!
“Ay, tremble so at the revenge
“Of injured Love's determined range!
“That Love is turned to gall, and thou
“Too well its bitterness shalt know,
“As I have known it — canst thou pine
“That my afflictions should be thine?
“Hah, hah! ingrate and perjured fool!
“Thoughtst thou of wrong I should be cool!
“Away! to my revenge I sweep,
“Like fiend by serpent stung from sleep!

X.

“What hadst thou been — a servile Dane
“Writhing in England's conquest-chain —
“Had not my fond unearthly heart
“Ta'en in a mortal's bosom part?
“Did I not give thee magic power
“O'er sprites in planetary hour,
“Invest thee with the robe and wand,
“O'er quick and dead to bear command,
“And all the elements to sway,
“With mandate mightier far than they?
“But thou hadst sought to rive my chain,
“And all my secret signs were vain,
“In vain awhile thy spells might fail, —
“I proved thee, and have found thee frail,
“Faithless to my love, and thy vows —
“How true was that, how false were those!
“But that and they by Hell were sworn,
“And entered in that horrid bourne;
“They shall return to upper air,
“With all the mischief gathered there,
“Fraught with the vengeance of the flame,
“So many scorpions through thy frame
“To sting thee into madness fierce,
“And with eternal torments pierce!

XI.

“Blind and infatuate! didst thou deem
“Thou couldst delude me with a dream
“Of what I had not, thy vile heart,
“Or force me from my right to part?
“Ere that thou hadst presumed so far
“With spirit-sight, and matchless might,
“By fraud or force to cheat or dare,
“Thou shouldst have had his watchfulness
“Who holds the Rainbow Pontifice,
“High arched from earth to heaven, prepared
“'Gainst giant-inroad there to guard,
“With sword, and that loud trump, whose sound
“All the worlds answer all around;
“Heimdal, whose eyes at once survey
“A thousand leagues, by night or day;
“And sleep as light as bird, at large,
“E'er conscious of important charge;
“Heimdal, whose ear, of sound divine,
“Is wrought so exquisitely fine,
“It hears the grass in meadows grow,
“The wool on sheep, the falling snow!
“Thou shouldst have been like dreadful Thor,
“The might-sufficient God of War,
“Whose thunder-mace to hand again
“Returns, whence it was launched amain;
“Thor, who at pleasure can repair
“His strength, if e'er decay it fear!
“Vain mortal, know, thou art of earth,
“They deathless, of superior birth!

XII.

“Be not deceived: when Love runs wild,
“And cries revenge for faith beguiled,
“'Twill league with what it hates to speed
“Its malice on the perjured head!
“Thinkst thou I shall not take their side,
“For that they are to Heaven allied?
“To Him, whose fierce almighty power,
“Did, in that memorable hour
“When banded hosts of spirits high
“Were crested 'gainst his majesty,
“Hurl, e'en to utter hell's profound,
“Who got them names the nations round,
“Gods, sybils, heroes — with the rest,
“The undistinguished crew unblest!
“Nay — since we cannot hope that he,
“Enthroned in his eternity,
“Can ever yield to conqueror's rod,
“Why, let us of the power of God
“Take 'vantage, and his justice be
“The weapon of our vengeance free —
“And, lo! it shall be mine on thee!
“I ban thee, with my curse and wrath,
“Beneath the sword of Agilnoth;
“From thee I take whate'er I gave,
“And make thee as the veriest slave:
“And this by the nine gates of Hell,
“And by her kings and kingdoms fell,
“I swear! — hark! with the sound of whirlwind they
“Stamp, ratify thy doom, for aye!”

XIII.

Wild was the shock, and fierce, and rude,
Of the blasts echoing through the wood,
That rocked the Bandit's dark abode,
As earthquake swept the ground!
And then were sounds of horror there,
Shrill shriek, and groan of harsher fear,
That pierced and stunned the assaulted ear,
Confusedly all around:
But yet, those sounds seemed not of woe,
But rather the unruly shew
Of uncouth joy o'er fallen foe,
And wassail triumph wild! —
Now louder rose the yell and din,
As though the fiends were rushing in,
Howbeit the actors were unseen,
Mysteriously enveiled!
At once it ceased! — 'tis silence all,
Whose very stillness doth appal,
And hold the wildered mind in thrall,
Conjecture strange and dark.
When lo! — a rushing gleam appeared,
And as a form of light unsphered,
A Spirit for a moment glared,
Then flitted like a spark!
But oh! within that Sybil's arms,
What hath it left? — of cherub charms,
A lovely Babe, that cheerly smiled,
Amid that scene of terror wild!
Aloft she holds the Infant fair,
But fixed, and haggardly severe,
Her brow of frowns on Lothbroch lours,
As though 'twould wither all his powers.

XIV.

“Rage! rage! — I laugh to see thee rage —
“Fool! with a Sybil's wrath to wage
“Contention, to deceive the heart
“Skilled in delusion, and expert —
“What didst thou think me? — deaf, and blind,
“Contented — patient — calm — resigned —
“Humble in dotage — slave to thee,
“Proud when thou mightst bestow on me
“An hour, scarce spared from out the bliss
“Of dearer love's much sweeter kiss? —
“Behold this infant! — vex thine eye!
“She smiles upon thy destiny —
“Her innocent and lovely smile
“Exults o'er thee, and doth revile,
“Who thoughtst in flame her death she found,
“But little deemd'st that hovered round
“A Spirit, by my direction there,
“Secure from fire, exempt from fear,
“That caught her as she fell, and bare
“Her from the doom thou hadst prepared,
“To blast thine eye — its meet reward,
“Which had estranged thy recreant heart,
“From her who claimed the whole — not part!

XV.

“Woman! why hangst so on my arm? —
“To wildness torturing every charm,
“That stole his love from me — 'twas guilt!
“For which his life-blood must be spilt!
“And thou be pardoned! — off! away!
“I am no mother! — soft! yet stay!
“I know not what it is to pour
“A parent's joy, or anguish sore,
“O'er mine own image, born in fear,
“Through peril brought to vital air —
“Yet, by the rage of love, I ween,
“That rapture must be sweet — and keen
“Must be the agony! —And thou
“Dost more than common torture show —
“Thou art a mother! — be it so —
“Superior power prevents the blow —
“The child be thine — And he shall pine
“To see thee clasp it to thy breast —
“That he is curst — and thou art blest!

XVI.

XVII.

The combat thickens — who beheld,
Mingled their spirits with the field,
Which swelled or shrunk as rose or fell
The strokes that either sped,
Till vision, in its wearied cell,
Dimmed with that watch of dread!
But there was one, whose wedded heart,
Still yearning o'er her child,
Bore in that scene a greater part,
With blended feeling wild —
And while the Wife her lord confessed,
Through all his peril pained;
The Mother closer to her breast
Her clinging infant strained!

XVIII.

XIX.

Riven his plate, and pierced his mail,
Battered his crest, and broke his blade,
That had so late, with dire avail,
Repelled his force, whose sacred steel
Waved in a Wife's and Daughter's aid,
Extended huge the Giant lay —
His shield, exempted from the fray,
Hung in its own armorial nich,
Alone unharmed — unconscious — which
His anxious eyes still sought — and ay,
Exposed in utmost exigence;
Still, still he bent to pluck from thence
That stout circumference of defence,
To oppose to the consuming wrath
Of St. Eloy and Agilnoth —
But vain! — in vain! — pressed vengeance there,
His shrinking steps and failing strength,
Exulting o'er his measured length;
While fierce disdain from his despair
Broke forth—as sunk his soul to Hela's dwelling drear!

XX.

Hark! Mercy of Heaven! what tumult and noise
Disturb, as to threaten, the dawn of their joys?
Those yells, and those shouts, that incessantly swell, —
What are they the sound of his welcome to Hell?
And are the fiends so jovial there they cleave
The broad disparting orb with horrid sound
Of general clamour, from their inmost cave,
That sons of earth may hear the wild rebound?
No! 'tis the offspring of Fancy, begot by Alarm,
In perilous hour, and produced by a charm,
In the self-same moment begotten and born,
Fantastic and varying, as ghost tempest-torn!
Far other import those clamours contain —
'Tis the Band of the Chieftain! they rush in amain;
They had heard his loud cry — but, all too late,
Came to save him from his fate!
And now they vow, with general breath,
To avenge their chief, or rush on death!
But Gunilda hath met them — and rages and raves,
Despising their menace high;
Fierce as a fury, and wild as the waves
Tost into the turbulent sky!

XXI.

“Back! back! ye slaves! — without his charms,
“What can your frail and fragile arms?
“Those charms he had from me — and I
“Condeinned him to this destiny —
“I doomed his vile ingratitude,
“Though 'twas his sword that drank his blood —
“His sword, that hath the might of Heaven
“On its avenging temper graven —
“Not I might brook its dint of wrath,
“Though privileged from fleshly scathe!
“But, if ye loved your chief so well,
“To attend upon his state in hell,
“Come — breast the point, and do your parts —
“Urge 'gainst its length your stubborn hearts —
“Till the ground, be deluged with your blood,
“And ye float in the purple flood! —
“Away! — this cavern stands no more,
“I rase the work I wrought before;
“And with my altered breath dispel
“The fabric framed of many a spell! —
“Then to Hela's dark abode
“Swift I take my airy road,
“And embrace the hero's soul,
“Quit of cumbrous earth's control;
“Still beloved, though loathed he fell,
“Mine, and only mine in Hell!”

XXII.

Fled the fierce Band with panic fear,
Fled like a herd of startled deer;
Before her mien, so terrible
And wild, their craven courage fell!
Like the sand o'er the plain,
By the desert blast surged,
Fled the Bandits amain,
To precipitance urged,
From her terrors proclaimed!
With the Band fled as well
The Sorcerer's cell;
By a spell it was framed,
And destroyed by a spell!
From the mutterings of power,
So vanished the grim,
Wizard-wrought, Teraphim!
In the perilous hour,
The shield, sought in vain,
At the word of the witch,
Disappeared from its nich!
And the corpse of the slain,
With a long peal of thunder,
From the vision of Wonder
Past away in its blood!
And the Sybil has gone
To her dreary abode,
In her regions unknown!
And the rest are alone
In the midst of the wood!

XXIII.

Now all is calm — a calm so dead
It falls with cold and heavy dread —
Such lingering sense of terror still,
When the wild storm hath blown its fill,
As presses on the shipman's soul,
That with the tempest's surging roll,
Was wrapt up to the utmost pole! —
Such as the peasant well may feel
After the solemn thunder-peal,
When, 'mid the wilds, the general still
Settles on wood, and mead, and hill;
And not a whisper of the breeze
Wakens the leaf of aspen trees;
And not a motion of the stream
Disturbs the silence of the dream,
That seems each object to invest,
As life suspended were in rest —
Such the suspension of their souls!
Husband and Mother — and Sire and Brother —
And while its frozen breath controls,
They gaze uncertain on each other,
As though they gazed on vacancy,
Where forms unreal met the eye;
Till 'gan the heart flow in the breast,
With fixed ice so late oppressed,
And to its natural glow returned,
And now with rising rapture burned;
The lines of memory now they trace,
And catch the extatical embrace,
Pouring all the rapt spirit forth
In joy, that bursts beyond the earth!
But chief the Infant shared the bliss,
That triumphed in the numerous kiss —
Her parents kissed her o'er and o'er,
With fervor never felt before —
And Edwy pressed her lip and cheek,
So sweetly innocent and meek —
And Almar, of his pride beguiled,
Hath blest his Arabella's Child!!

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI. The Hymn.

Conclusion.