صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

'he Angel took the sword again, and

swore,

And walks on earth unseen forevermore.

INTERLUDE.

HE ended and a kind of spell
Upon the silent listeners fell.

His solemn manner and his words
Had touched the deep, mysterious
chords,

That vibrate in each human breast
Alike, but not alike confessed.
The spiritual world seemed near ;
And close above them, full of fear,
Its awful adumbration passed,
A luminous shadow, vague and vast.
They almost feared to look, lest there,
Embodied from the impalpable air,
They might behold the Angel stand,
Holding the sword in his right hand.

At last, but in a voice subdued,
Not to disturb their dreamy mood,
Said the Sicilian: "While you spoke,
Telling your legend marvellous,
Suddenly in my memory woke
The thought of one, now gone from us,
An old Abate, meek and mild,
My friend and teacher, when a child,
Who sometimes in those days of old
The legend of an Angel told,
Which ran, as I remember, thus."

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

"What mean these words?" The clerk made answer meet,

"He has put down the mighty from their seat,

And has exalted them of low degree." Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully, ""T is well that such seditious words are

sung

Only by priests and in the Latin tongue; For unto priests and people be it known, There is no power can push me from my throne!"

And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,

Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.

When he awoke, it was already night; The church was empty, and there was 110 light,

Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint,

Lighted a little space before some saint. He started from his seat and gazed around,

But saw no living thing and heard no sound.

He groped towards the door, but it was locked;

He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,

And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,

And imprecations upon men and saints. The sounds re-echoed from the roof and

walls

As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls.

At length the sexton, hearing from without

The tumult of the knocking and the shout,

And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer,

Came with his lantern, asking, "Who is there?"

Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said,

"Open 't is I, the King! Art thou afraid?"

The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse,

"This is some drunken vagabond, or worse!"

Turned the great key and flung the por tal wide;

[blocks in formation]

ring,

King Robert's self in features, form, and height,

But all transfigured with angelic light! It was an Angel; and his presence there With a divine effulgence filled the air, An exaltation, piercing the disguise, Though none the hidden Angel recognize.

A moment speechless, motionless, amazed,

The throneless monarch on the Angel gazed,

Who met his look of anger and surprise With the divine compassion of his eyes; Then said, "Who art thou? and why com'st thou here?"

To which King Robert answered, with a sneer,

[blocks in formation]

It was no dream; the world he loved so much

Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch!

Days came and went; and now returned again

To Sicily the old Saturnian reign; Under the Angel's governance benign The happy island danced with corn and wine,

And deep within the mountain's burning breast

Enceladus, the giant, was at rest.

Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his | The solemn ape demurely perched be

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

hind,

King Robert rode, making huge merri

[blocks in formation]

And now the visit ending, and once more | And when his courtiers came, they foun Valmond returning to the Danube's

shore,

Homeward the Angel journeyed, and again

The land was made resplendent with his train,

Flashing along the towns of Italy
Unto Salerno, and from thence by sea.
And when once more within Palermo's

wall,

And, seated on the throne in his great hall,

He heard the Angelus from convent

towers,

As if the better world conversed with

ours,

He beckoned to King Robert to draw nigher,

And with a gesture bade the rest retire; And when they were alone, the Angel said,

"Art thou the King?" Then, bowing

down his head,

King Robert crossed both hands upon

his breast,

[blocks in formation]

him there

Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed i silent prayer.

INTERLUDE.

A Saga of the days of old.
AND then the blue-eyed Norseman told
Of Legends in the old Norse tongue,
"There is," said he, "a wondrous bool
of the dead kings of Norroway,
Legends that once were told or sung
Of Iceland, in the ancient day,
In many a smoky fireside nook
By wandering Saga-man or Scald ;
Heimskringla is the volume called;
The story that I now begin."
And he who looks may find therein

Upon his violin he played,
And in each pause the story made
Fragments of old Norwegian tunes
As an appropriate interlude,
That bound in one the separate runes,
And held the mind in perfect mood,
The strange and antiquated rhymes
Entwining and encircling all
With melodies of olden times;
As over some half-ruined wall,
Disjointed and about to fall,
Fresh woodbines climb and interlace,
And keep the loosened stones in place.

THE MUSICIAN'S TALE.

THE SAGA OF KING OLAF.

I.

THE CHALLENGE OF THOR.

I AM the God Thor,
I am the War God,
I am the Thunderer!
Here in my Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I forever!

Here amid icebergs Rule I the nations; This is my hammer, Miölner the mighty; Giants and sorcerers Cannot withstand it !

These are the gauntlets
Wherewith I wield it,
And hurl it afar off;
This is my girdle;
Whenever I brace it,
Strength is redoubled!

The light thou beholdest
Stream through the heavens,
In flashes of crimson,
Is but my red beard
Blown by the night-wind,
Affrighting the nations!

Jove is my brother;
Mine eyes are the lightning;
The wheels of my chariot
Roll in the thunder,
The blows of my hammer
Ring in the earthquake!

Force rules the world still,
Has ruled it, shall rule it;
Meekness is weakness,
Strength is triumphant,
Over the whole earth
Still is it Thor's-Day!

Thou art a God too,
O Galilean!

And thus single-handed
Unto the combat,
Gauntlet or Gospel,
Here I defy thee!

II.

KING OLAF'S RETURN.

AND King Olaf heard the cry,
Saw the red light in the sky,

Laid his hand upon his sword,
As he leaned upon the railing,
And his ships went sailing, sailing
Northward into Drontheim fiord.

There he stood as one who dreamed;
And the red light glanced and gleamed
On the armor that he wore ;
And he shouted, as the rifted
Streamers o'er him shook and shifted,
"I accept thy challenge, Thor!"

To avenge his father slain,
And reconquer realm and reign,

Came the youthful Olaf home, Through the midnight sailing, sailing,

Listening to the wild wind's wailing,
And the dashing of the foam.

To his thoughts the sacred name
Of his mother Astrid came,

And the tale she oft had told
Of her flight by secret passes
Through the mountains and morasses,
To the home of Hakon old.

Then strange memories crowded back
Of Queen Gunhild's wrath and wrack,
And a hurried flight by sea;
Of grim Vikings, and the rapture
Of the sea-fight, and the capture,
And the life of slavery.

How a stranger watched his face
In the Esthonian market-place,

Scanned his features one by one, Saying, "We should know each other; I am Sigurd, Astrid's brother,

Thou art Olaf, Astrid's son !"

Then as Queen Allogia's page,
Old in honors, young in age,

Chief of all her men-at-arms;
Till vague whispers, and mysterious,
Reached King Valdemar, the imperious,
Filling him with strange alarms.

Then his cruisings o'er the seas,
Westward to the Hebrides,

And to Scilly's rocky shore;
And the hermit's cavern dismal,
Christ's great name and rites baptismal
In the ocean's rush and roar.

All these thoughts of love and strife
Glimmered through his lurid life,
As the stars' intenser light
Through the red flames o'er him trailing,
As his ships went sailing, sailing,

Northward in the summer night.

Trained for either camp or court,
Skilful in each manly sport,

Young and beautiful and tall;
Art of warfare, craft of chases,
Swimming, skating, snow-shoe races,
Excellent alike in all.

When at sea, with all his rowers, He along the bending oars

Outside of his ship could run. He the Smalsor Horn ascended, And his shining shield suspended On its summit, like a sun.

« السابقةمتابعة »