The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!'
And thou, and he, and all fell to crying?
Then on the roof the osprey screamed aloud;
And here they brought our father in his shroud.
There is his grave; there stands the cross we set;
Why dost thou clasp me so, dear Margaret?

Come in! The bride will be here soon:

Thou tremblest! O my God! thou art going to swoon!" She could no more,-the blind girl, weak and weary!

A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary,

'What wouldst thou do, my daughter?"-and she started; And quick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted;

But Paul, impatient, urges ever more

Her steps towards the open door;

And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid
Crushes the laurel near the house immortal,
And with her head, as Paul talks on again,
Touches the crown of filigrane

Suspended from the low-arched portal,
No more restrained, no more afraid,
She walks, as for a feast arrayed,
And in the ancient chapel's sombre night
They both are lost to sight.

At length the bell,

With booming sound,

Sends forth, resounding round,

Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell.
It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain;
And yet the guests delay not long,

For soon arrives the bridal train,"

And with it brings the village throng.

In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo! Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,

Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning.

And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis;

To be a bride is all!

The pretty lisper

Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper,

'How beautiful! how beautiful she is!"

But she must calm that giddy head,

For already the Mass is said;

At the holy table stands the priest;

The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it;
Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it,

He must pronounce one word at least!

'Tis spoken; and sudden at the groomsman's side ""Tis he!" a well-known voice has cried.

K K

And while the wedding-guests all hold their breath,
Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see!
Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished
As holy water be my blood for thee!"

And calmly in the air a knife suspended!
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended.
For anguish did its work so well,
That, ere the fatal stroke descended,
Lifeless she fell!

At eve, instead of bridal verse,
The De Profundis filled the air;
Decked with flowers a single hearse
To the churchyard forth they bear;
Village girls in robes of snow
Follow, weeping as they go;
Nowhere was a smile that day,

No, ah no! for each one seemed to say:—

"The roads shall mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!"

death,

MY SECRET.

FROM THE FRENCH OF FÉLIX ARVERS.

My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.
Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
For ever at her side and yet for ever lonely,

I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for nought, and having nought received.

For her, though God hath made her gentle and endearing,
She will go on her way distraught and without hearing
These murmurings of love that round her steps ascend,
Piously faithful still unto her austere duty,

Will say, when she shall read these lines full of her beauty, "Who can this woman be?" and will not comprehend.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

For thee was a house built Ere thou wast born,

THE GRAVE.

For thee was a mould meant
Ere thou of mother camest.
But it is not made ready,
Nor its depth measured,
Nor is it seen

How long it shall be.
Now I bring thee
Where thou shalt be;
Now I shall measure thee,
And the mould afterwards.

Thy house is not Highly timbered, It is unhigh and low; When thou art therein, The heel-ways are low, The side-ways unhigh. The roof is built Thy breast full nigh, So thou shalt in mould

Dwell full cold,
Dimly and dark.

Doorless is that house,
And dark it is within;
There thou art fast detained,
And death hath the key.
Loathsome is that earth-house,
And grim within to dwell.
There thou shalt dwell,
And worms shall divide thee.

Thus thou art laid,
And leavest thy friends;
Thou hast no friend
Who will come to thee,
Who will ever see

How that house pleaseth thee;

Who will ever open

The door for thee

And descend after thee,
For soon thou art loathsome
And hateful to see.

BEOWULF'S EXPEDITION TO HEORT.

THUS then, much care-worn, The son of Healfden

Sorrowed evermore,

Nor might the prudent hero His woes avert. The war was too hard, Too loath and longsome, That on the people came, Dire wrath and grim, Of night-woes the worst. This from home heard Higelac's Thane, Good among the Goths, Grendel's deeds. He was of mankind In might the strongest, At that day Of this life,

Noble and stalwart. He bade him a sea-ship, A goodly one, prepare. Quoth he, the war-king, Over the swan's road, Seek he would The mighty monarch, Since he wanted men. For him that journey His prudent fellows Straight made ready, Those that loved him. They excited their souls The omen they beheld. Had the good-man Of the Gothic people Champions chosen, Of those that keenest

He might find,
Some fifteen men.

The sea-wood sought he,
The warrior showed,
Sea-crafty man!
The landmarks,

And first went forth.

The ship was on the waves,
Boat under the cliffs.
The barons ready
To the prow mounted.
The streams they whirled

The sea against the sands.
The chieftains bore
On the naked breast
Bright ornaments,
War-gear, Goth-like.
The men shoved off,
Men on their willing way,

The bounden wood.

Then went over the sea-waves,

Hurried by the wind,

The ship with foamy neck

Most like a sea-fowl,

Till about one hour
Of the second day
The curved prow
Had passed onward
So that the sailors
The land saw,
The shore-cliffs shining,
Mountains steep,
And broad sea-noses.
Then was the sea-sailing
Of the earl at an end.
Then up speedily
The Weather people
On the land went,

The sea-bark moored,
Their mail-sarks shook,
Their war-weeds.

God thanked they,

That to them the sea-journey
Easy had been.

Then from the wall beheld
The warden of the Scyldings,
He who the sea-cliffs

Had in his keeping,

Bear o'er the balks
The bright shields,
The war-weapons speedily.
Him the doubt disturbed
In his mind's thought,
What these men might be.
Went then to the shore,
On his steed riding,
The Thane of Hrothgar.
Before the host he shook
His warden's staff in hand,
In measured words demanded:
"What men are ye
War-gear wearing,

Host in harness,

Who thus the brown keel

Over the water-street

Leading come

Hither over the sea?

I these boundaries

As shore-warden hold;

That in the Land of the Danes

Nothing loathsome

With a ship-crew
Scathe us might.

Ne'er saw I mightier

Earl upon earth
Than is your own,
Hero in harness.

Not seldom this warrior
Is in weapons distinguished;
Never his beauty belies him,
His peerless countenance !
Now would I fain

Your origin know,
Ere ye forth

As false spies

Into the Land of the Danes
Farther fare.

Now, ye dwellers afar off!
Ye sailors of the sea!

Listen to my
One-fold thought.
Quickest is best

To make known

Whence your coming may be."

THE SOUL'S COMPLAINT AGAINST THE BODY.

MUCH it behoveth

Each one of mortals,

That he his soul's journey
In himself ponder,
How deep it may be.
When Death cometh,
The bonds he breaketh
By which united
Were body and soul.

Long it is thenceforth
Ere the soul taketh
From God himself
Its woe or its weal;
As in the world erst,
Even in its earth-vessel,
It wrought before.

The soul shall come
Wailing with loud voice,
After a sennight,
The soul, to find

The body

That it erst dwelt in;-
Three hundred winters,
Unless ere that worketh
The eternal Lord,
The Almighty God,
The end of the world.

Crieth then, so care-worn,
With cold utterance,

And speaketh grimly,

The ghost to the dust:

"Dry dust thou dreary one!

How little didst thou labour for me!

In the foulness of earth
Thou all wearest away
Like to the loam!
Little didst thou think
How thy soul's journey
Would be thereafter,
When from the body
It should be led forth."

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE SWEDISH.

FRITHIOF'S HOMESTEAD.

THREE miles extended around the fields of the homestead; on three sides

Valleys, and mountains, and hills, but on the fourth side was the ocean. Birch-woods crowned the summits, but over the down-sloping hill-sides Flourished the golden corn, and man-high was waving the rye-field. Lakes, full many in number, their mirror held up for the mountains, Held for the forests up, in whose depths the high-antlered reindeer Had their kingly walk, and drank of a hundred brooklets.

But in the valleys, full widely around, there fed on the greensward Herds with sleek, shining sides, and udders that longed for the milk-pail. 'Mid these were scattered, now here and now there, a vast countless

number

Of white-wooled sheep, as thou seest the white-looking stray clouds, Flock-wise, spread o'er the heavenly vault, when it bloweth in springtime.

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The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Reprinted from the Revised ...