 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
IV.
“Then,” I exclaimed, “by all the mighty godsThat crowd Valhalla's ever-bright abodes,
I thank thee not! but rather, while I live,
Must rue the liberty your efforts give,
Since it is purchased at the too high cost
Of thy poor daughter left—ay, left and lost!
Liefer would I rejoin thy Chieftain's train,
Liefer for life the Saxon's slave remain,
Than harm befell that Maid! And thou—O thou
Art that maid's sire!—I almost hate thee now!”
368
Bertha is safe,” he said, “and long will live,
Ere the young Chieftain, wise and just, and mild,
Will for the guilty Father harm the Child!
O sir, the Chieftain is so good!—In me,
A man of simple, untaught mind you see;
But when I have observed him near, and when
I have compared him with the herd of men—
He, as I said, so good, a soul of light,
At once with virtue and with wisdom bright,
They uninformed and savage, dark in mind,
More like to demons than to humankind—
I've almost fancied him, at such a time,
A sinless native of a sinless clime
For some mysterious end or purpose hurled
Down thence into a base and wrong-filled world!”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |