Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13)
Page 56
Homeward the Angel journeyed, and again
The land was made resplendent with his train,
Flashing along the towns of Italy 185
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, 190
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, 195
And meekly answered him: “Thou knowest best!
My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence,
And in some cloister’s school of penitence,
Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven,
Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven!” 200
The Angel smiled, and from his radiant face
A holy light illumined all the place,
And through the open window, loud and clear,
They heard the monks chant in the chapel near,
Above the stir and tumult of the street: 205
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree!”
And through the chant a second melody
Rose like the throbbing of a single string:
“I am an Angel, and thou art the King!” 210
King Robert, who was standing near the throne,
Lifted his eyes, and lo! he was alone!
But all apparelled as in days of old,
With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold;
And when his courtiers came, they found him there 215
Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed in silent prayer.
The Sicilian’s Tale: Interlude
AND then the blue-eyed Norseman told
A Saga of the days of old.
“There is,” said he, “a wondrous book
Of Legends in the old Norse tongue,
Of the dead kings of Norroway, — 5
Legends that once were told or sung
In many a smoky fireside nook
Of Iceland, in the ancient day,
By wandering Saga-man or Scald;
‘Heimskringla’ is the volume called; 10
And he who looks may find therein
The story that I now begin.”
And in each pause the story made
Upon his violin he played,
As an appropriate interlude, 15
Fragments of old Norwegian tunes
That bound in one the separate runes,
And held the mind in perfect mood,
Entwining and encircling all
The strange and antiquated rhymes 20
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. 25
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 fortres 5
Reign I forever!
Here amid icebergs
Rule I the nations;
This is my hammer,
Miölner the mighty; 10
Giants and sorcerers
Cannot withstand it!
These are the gauntlets
Wherewith I wield it,
And hurl it afar off; 15
This is my girdle;
Whenever I brace it,
Strength is redoubled!
The light thou beholdest
Stream through the heaven 20
In flashes of crimson,
Is but my red beard
Blown by the night-wind,
Affrighting the nations!
Jove is my brother; 25
Mine eyes are the lightning;
The wheels of my chariot
Roll in the thunder,
The blows of my hammer
Ring in the earthquake! 30
Force rules the world still,
Has ruled it, shall rule it;
Meekness is weakness,
Strength is triumphant,
Over the whole earth 35
Still is it Thor’s-Day!
Thou art a God too,
O Galilean!
And thus single-handed
Unto the combat, 40
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 5
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 10
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, 15
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, 20
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 25
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. 30
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, 35
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, 40
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; 45
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, 50
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, 55
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. 60
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 65
On its summit, like a sun.
On the ship-rails he could stand,
&
nbsp; Wield his sword with either hand,
And at once two javelins throw;
At all feasts where ale was strongest 70
Sat the merry monarch longest,
First to come and last to go.
Norway never yet had seen
One so beautiful of mien,
One so royal in attire, 75
When in arms completely furnished,
Harness gold-inlaid and burnished,
Mantle like a flame of fire.
Thus came Olaf to his own,
When upon the night-wind blown 80
Passed that cry along the shore;
And he answered, while the rifted
Streamers o’er him shook and shifted,
“I accept thy challenge, Thor!”
III.
Thora of Rimol
“THORA of Rimol! hide me! hide me!
Danger and shame and death betide me!
For Olaf the King is hunting me down
Through field and forest, through thorp and town!”
Thus cried Jarl Hakon 5
To Thora, the fairest of women.
“Hakon Jarl! for the love I bear thee
Neither shall shame nor death come near thee!
But the hiding-place wherein thou must lie
Is the cave underneath the swine in the sty.” 10
Thus to Jarl Hakon
Said Thora, the fairest of women.
So Hakon Jarl and his base thrall Karker
Crouched in the cave, than a dungeon darker,
As Olaf came riding, with men in mail, 15
Through the forest roads into Orkadale,
Demanding Jarl Hakon
Of Thora, the fairest of women.
“Rich and honored shall be whoever
The head of Hakon Jarl shall dissever!” 20
Hakon heard him, and Karker the slave,
Through the breathing-holes of the darksome cave.
Alone in her chamber
Wept Thora, the fairest of women.
Said Karker, the crafty, “I will not slay thee! 25
For all the king’s gold I will never betray thee!”
“Then why dost thou turn so pale, O churl,
And then again black as the earth?” said the Earl.
More pale and more faithful
Was Thora, the fairest of women. 30
From a dream in the night the thrall started, saying,
“Round my neck a gold ring King Olaf was laying!”
And Hakon answered, “Beware of the king!
He will lay round thy neck a blood-red ring.”
At the ring on her finger 35
Gazed Thora, the fairest of women.
At daybreak slept Hakon, with sorrows encumbered,
But screamed and drew up his feet as he slumbered;
The thrall in the darkness plunged with his knife,
And the Earl awakened no more in this life. 40
But wakeful and weeping
Sat Thora, the fairest of women.
At Nidarholm the priests are all singing,
Two ghastly heads on the gibbet are swinging;
One is Jarl Hakon’s and one is his thrall’s, 45
And the people are shouting from windows and walls;
While alone in her chamber
Swoons Thora, the fairest of women.
IV.
Queen Sigrid the Haughty
QUEEN SIGRID the Haughty sat proud and aloft
In her chamber, that looked over meadow and croft.
Heart’s dearest,
Why dost thou sorrow so?
The floor tassels of fir was besprent, 5
Filling the room with their fragrant scent.
She heard the birds sing, she saw the sun shine,
The air of summer was sweeter than wine.
Like a sword without scabbard the bright river lay
Between her own kingdom and Norroway. 10
But Olaf the King had sued for her hand,
The sword would be sheathed, the river be spanned.
Her maidens were seated around her knee,
Working bright figures in tapestry.
And one was singing the ancient rune 15
Of Brynhilda’s love and the wrath of Gudrun.
And through it, and round it, and over it all
Sounded incessant the waterfall.
The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold,
From the door of Ladé’s Temple old. 20
King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift,
But her thoughts as arrows were keen and swift.
She had given the ring to her goldsmiths twain,
Who smiled, as they handed it back again.
And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty way, 25
Said, “Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, say?”
And they answered: “O Queen! if the truth must be told,
The ring is of copper, and not of gold!”
The lightning flashed o’er her forehead and cheek,
She only murmured, she did not speak: 30
“If in his gifts he can faithless be,
There will be no gold in his love to me.”
A footstep was heard on the outer stair,
And in strode King Olaf with royal air.
He kissed the Queen’s hand, and he whispered of love, 35
And swore to be true as the stars are above.
But she smiled with contempt as she answered: “O King,
Will you swear it, as Odin once swore, on the ring?”
And the King: “Oh speak not of Odin to me,
The wife of King Olaf a Christian must be.” 40
Looking straight at the King, with her level brows,
She said, “I keep true to my faith and my vows.”
Then the face of King Olaf was darkened with gloom,
He rose in his anger and strode through the room.
“Why, then, should I care to have thee?” he said, — 45
“A faded old woman, a heathenish jade!”
His zeal was stronger than fear or love,
And he struck the Queen in the face with his glove.
Then forth from the chamber in anger he fled,
And the wooden stairway shook with his tread. 50
Queen Sigrid the Haughty said under her breath,
“This insult, King Olaf, shall be thy death!”
Heart’s dearest,
Why dost thou sorrow so?
V.
The Skerry of Shrieks
NOW from all King Olaf’s farms
His men-at-arms
Gathered on the Eve of Easter;
To his house at Angvalds-ness
Fast they press, 5
Drinking with the royal feaster.
Loudly through the wide-flung door
Came the roar
Of the sea upon the Skerry;
And its thunder loud and near 10
Reached the ear,
Mingling with their voices merry.
“Hark!” said Olaf to his Scald,
Halfred the Bald,
“Listen to that song, and learn it! 15
Half my kingdom would I give,
As I live,
If by such songs you would earn it!
“For of all the runes and rhymes
Of all times, 20
Best I like the ocean’s dirges,
When the old harper heaves and rocks,
His hoary locks
Flowing and flashing in the surges!”
Halfred answered: “I am called 25
The Unappalled!
Nothing hinders me or daunts me.
Hearken to me, then, O King,
While I sing
The great Ocean Song that haunts me.” 30
“I will hear your song sublime
Some other time,”
Says the drowsy monarch, yawning,
And retires; each laughing guest
Applauds the jest; 35
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Then they sleep till day is dawning.
Pacing up and down the yard,
King Olaf’s guard
Saw the sea-mist slowly creeping
O’er the sands, and up the hill, 40
Gathering still
Round the house where they were sleeping.
It was not the fog he saw,
Nor misty flaw,
That above the landscape brooded; 45
It was Eyvind Kallda’s crew
Of warlocks blue
With their caps of darkness hooded!
Round and round the house they go,
Weaving slow 50
Magic circles to encumber
And imprison in their ring
Olaf the King,
As he helpless lies in slumber.
Then athwart the vapors dun 55
The Easter sun
Streamed with one broad track of splendor!
In their real forms appeared
The warlocks weird,
Awful as the Witch of Endor. 60
Blinded by the light that glared,
They groped and stared,
Round about with steps unsteady;
From his window Olaf gazed,
And, amazed, 65
“Who are these strange people?” said he,
“Eyvind Kallda and his men!”
Answered then
From the yard a sturdy farmer;
While the men-at-arms apace 70
Filled the place,
Busily buckling on their armor.
From the gates they sallied forth,
South and north,
Scoured the island coast around them, 75
Seizing all the warlock band,
Foot and hand
On the Skerry’s rocks they bound them.
And at eve the king again
Called his train, 80