XVI-573 While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew, "Many a wassail-bout "Once as I told in glee Burning yet tender; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, "I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Our vows were plighted. By the hawk frighted. "Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall; Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory: 9154 When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, "While the brown ale he quaffed, The sea-foam brightly, "She was a prince's child, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight, Why did they leave that night "Scarce had I put to sea, Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen! When on the white sea-strand, With twenty horsemen. "Then launched they to the blast; Bent like a reed each mast: Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death! was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter! Midships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water! "As with his wings aslant Through the wild hurricane Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, There for my lady's bower Stands looking seaward. "There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother: Death closed her mild blue eyes; Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another! "Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! The sunlight hateful! Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful! "Thus seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!» Thus the tale ended. M MAIDENHOOD AIDEN! with the meek brown eyes, Like the dusk in evening skies! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Standing with reluctant feet Gazing with a timid glance On the brooklet's swift advance, Deep and still, that gliding stream Then why pause with indecision, Seest thou shadows sailing by, Hearest thou voices on the shore, O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands,-life hath snares; Care and age come unawares! Like the swell of some sweet tune Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June. Childhood is the bough, where slumbered Gather then each flower that grows, |