Collected Works of Johan Ludvig Runeberg

by Johan Ludvig Runeberg

And listens to beginning sounds of movement

  By waterfowl in lifting wings to flight.

  V

  And murmuring surf of billows rising higher

  He hears, and calls, Oihonna, unto thee —

  “Up now, my daughter, make thou speed! Already

  Day is at hand; I hear its very voice.”

  VI

  And then she comes, the maiden of the billows,

  The chilly beam on Morven’s mountain tracts.

  She draweth nearer to the king, still listening —

  “Morannal, father, unto thee all hail!

  VII

  “Upon the heath, beside the stream of Crona,

  I chanced to be when last the sun went down;

  And even there, with her alluring glances,

  The silent Night herself beheld me still.

  VIII

  “This time Oihonna comes to thee belated;

  Deep were thy daughter’s slumbers; wearied she

  With hunting. In the realms of dreams, O father,

  She lingered on, forgetting thee too long.

  IX

  “No sun, though, lights up yet Dunhormod’s summit,

  But faintly russet show the mountain firs.

  What hath befallen then that thou wouldst bid me.

  Back to thy presence long before the morn?”

  X

  In loving-kindliness the aged monarch

  Forth to his daughter reached a withered hand,

  And spake to her: “Come unto me, thou glimmer

  Of ray amidst the dark of Selma’s night.

  XI

  “Come here, and lend the old man in his blindness.

  But one day more the light of thine own eyes.

  His glance will brighten towards the tide of evening,

  His darkness flee away as flies a dream.

  XII

  “When thou this evening’s cloud beholdest sailing

  Pallor-suffused in star-illumined space,

  Then, heed my warning, Selma’s lord shall wander

  Upon its brim with glance as clear as day.

  XIII

  ‘‘And shall behold once more his realm appearing

  As far, far back he can recall it still,

  When from the moon was poured upon its hill-sides

  The torrent of her flood of quivering light.

  XIV

  “O daughter, war indeed is now upon us!

  From Innishonna has been brought the news

  That there he came, the Hialmar of the sagas,

  But yesterday with Lochlin’s fighting host.

  XV

  “From thence himself hath forwarded the greeting,

  ‘The youthful eagle of the land of fogs —

  Arise thou, monarch of illustrious Morven,

  And call thy people instantly to arms!

  XVI

  “‘Out of the North a wind is freshly blowing;

  When on the waters dawns to-morrow’s day.

  Know, King, a thunder-cloud of sails it carries

  Apace against thy tremor-stricken shore.’”

  XVII

  The old man held his peace. A ruddy lustre

  Was seen to kindle on the maiden’s cheek.

  “What is the cause, that now Oihonna’s hero,”

  She calmly questioned, “threatens so thy land?”

  XVIII

  Then spake again Morannal king: “A treasure

  I own, and unto that he layeth claim.

  In minstrels” tones the fame of it has sounded,

  And lured the passion of the youthful prince.

  XIX

  “O daughter, learn his words! He hath commanded

  The message to be sent: O’er waves I sped

  To countries smiling in the sun, and even

  Unto the winter’s ice-encumbered homes.

  XX

  “‘But wheresoe’er I came was heard resounding

  In song, in saga-lore, thy daughter’s name;

  Was heard the wailing of rejected lovers,

  The pain of weaklings treated with disdain.

  XXI

  “‘Indignant then I made the solemn promise

  To take the scornful girl myself for bride.

  Give heed to due protection for thy daughter,

  For Hialmar’s is a wooing by the sword!’

  XXII

  “This is his threat. Would that but now were dawning

  The day that saw me stand on Crona’s heath,

  When bled to death the army led by Trenmor,

  And Erin’s realm was all in mourning veiled.

  XXIII

  “For then would soon the warrior-lord of Lochlin

  Find also in the sandy bed his grave,

  As does the billow of the sea, that rusheth

  Upon the fore-shore but to perish there.

  XXIV

  “Alas! Morannal’s time is fled, and withered

  Is now his arm, his light of eye gone out.

  His wars are looming pale in their remoteness

  As shows the winter’s nightly sheen afar.

  XXV

  “Will Morven now come forward in her glory,

  Her warriors bleed in merry mood to-day?

  Is on thy bow, O Gall, a flash of lightning?

  Is death within the spear of Clesamor?

  XXVI

  “And thou, the third among my sons, O Rurmar,

  Who in the hall of Fingal smit’st the harp,

  Art thou endowed with cunning to elicit

  Also a tune from helmets with the sword?

  XXVII

  “Methinks e’en now I hear a stir tumultuous,

  Some sound of clanging steel round Lora’s strand:

  Look now without; what seest thou there, my daughter?

  Are Selma’s armies marching out to war?”

  XXVIII

  She cast abroad her glance, and in a quiver

  Of sweet delight she scanned the brightened space;

  Against her face before the morning’s mirror

  There broke the rosy sheen of sunny day.

  XXIX

  “I see, O father, how a host is marching

  Down from the mountains, nearing leisurely

  As any cloud that moves towards the valley,

  And hides within it thunderbolts and storm.

  XXX

  “But calm appears the wide expanse of ocean,

  In splendour openeth the Sun his eye;

  The deeps are quivering with flaming radiance,

  The firmament bursts open to the light.”

  XXXI

  Upon the aged monarch’s face was dawning

  A glimm’ring hint of smiling grief; yet soon

  He rose majestic, and anon his spirit

  Broke forth and found its vent in glowing words —

  XXXII

  “All hail,” he said, “thou monarch of the heavens!

  King of the stars, my greeting is to thee,

  Thou, Sun, that wanderest for ever youthful

  On high above this earth-realm of decay.

  XXXIII

  “My soul’s delight in times that now are ancient,

  My light that hovers in the memory still,

  Though by the pall of night my eye is covered,

  Though nought abides but darkness in my heart.

  XXXIV

  “Now may’st thou never in thy pride have reason

  To hide thy face indignantly to-day,

  At seeing any son of King Morannal

  From terror shun to meet a foeman’s spear.

  XXXV

  “And ye, the children of your father’s vigour,

  Gall, prince of hunting sport, and Clesamor,

  Thou youth whose mettle many a sword has tested,

  And Rurmar, ardent votary of song.

  XXXVI

  “Go cheerfully along the path of heroes.

  And trace the steps that Fingal’s race has
trod.

  All else with mortals vanishes, eternal

  Remains the fame of mighty deeds alone.

  XXXVII

  “O happy he who not by years is broken,

  But falls, while still in youth, ‘mong heroes slain,

  Like the enchanted thunderbolt that, laughing,

  Darts lightning forth, destroys and dieth out.

  XXXVIII

  “Alas! old age is like a flame that dwindles;

  Upon the homestead hearth it flickers faint,

  And, burning out, is covered up with ashes,

  And then is to forgetfulness consigned.

  XXXIX

  “Why tarries longer now the son of Fialar?

  Has Innishonna lulled into repose

  In the still night of groves his warlike spirit?

  Is Hialmar grown forgetful of his word?

  XL

  “What now? I seem to hear the surf of billows,

  And whistling sounds of northern gusts of wind,

  That fly on wings which seem to grow yet stronger

  Each moment as they pass my listening ear.”

  XLI

  “O father, on the northernmost horizon

  Night now ascends the firmament again.

  The beam of day is quivering with terror,

  And is in flight upon the billows’ crests.

  XLII

  “And gloom is gathering, and enwrapped in darkness

  The sea is far and wide, and steely grey

  Stands out Garmalla’s pinnacle and shaketh

  The hoary foam of surges from its crown.

  XLIII

  “More white the billows break against the foreshore

  Already, and a half-burnt fir-tree shows

  Upon the steep incline, which reeleth over

  Before the growing fury of the storm.

  XLIV

  “Albeit, not a sail the scene revealeth.

  Against the black cloud only, far away,

  There breaks, at times, what seems a shooting glimmer,

  A flash reflected by a seagull’s wing.”

  XLV

  She held her peace. The tempest roared already

  With full-grown voice throughout the airy space;

  And in the roll of wild resounding billows

  Arose the heavy answer of the deep.

  XLVI

  The clouds themselves were rent by fires asunder,

  And through the desert upper heights’ expanse

  Outsounding e’en the storm, in muffled rumble

  There rolled along the mighty din of heav’n.

  XLVII

  Then spake again the aged King of Morven —

  “A day like this I once have seen before.

  It was the day, upon the stormy ocean,

  When, maiden, first I set my eye on thee.

  XLVIII

  “There was a man called Darg. In songs of minstrels

  His name must not be named. An outlaw’s life

  He led; proscribed, of home bereft and hated,

  On plunder bent, he prowled about the seas.

  XLIX

  “I gave, indignant, chase unto his galley,

  Which dared approach too near to Morven’s strand;

  A robber, he had not the heart to face me,

  As deeds of darkness were his only wont.

  L

  “Already eve was near, and in the offing

  His sail was seen still looming far away;

  And all in vain my anger flamed impatient,

  When from the clouds there broke a sudden storm.

  LI

  “By peal on peal of rolling thunder followed,

  As at this hour, redoubling instantly;

  The wings of my own dragon it uplifted,

  And tore the sail of Darg down from the mast.

  LII

  “But never should the blood of any dastard

  Defile my sword. A lightning darted forth

  Out of a darkened cloud, and, straightway blazing,

  A flame shot up from out the robber’s keel.

  LIII

  “My craft drew nearer to the burning vessel,

  Now all ablaze, though Darg could still be seen.

  He stood in gloomy silence at the rudder,

  Protected by his shield against the flames.

  LIV

  “Upon one arm a tender child he carried,

  And seemed expectantly to watch my sail.

  He looked astern incessantly, betraying

  The lingering glance of longing, longing still.

  LV

  “In his distress I pitied him; and nearer

  I stood, until, within an arrow’s shot,

  I swung my ship about more into windward,

  To keep at safety from the flames myself.

  LVI

  “In wild despair the robber flung his buckler

  Upon the flaming fire. Headlong he plunged,

  And sank there, with the child in his embraces,

  Into the billows’ ready yawning grave.

  LVII

  “Off flew his galley with the tempest’s swiftness,

  But he himself I saw was struggling still

  To bear above the waves his tender burden,

  While craving for salvation at my hands.

  LVIII

  “I kept a heedful eye upon his beckoning,

  And took him, wrecked, on board. ’Twas then mine eye

  Looked for the first time upon thee, Oihonna;

  ’Twas then that I received thee from the sea.

  LIX

  “But, tender as thou wast, no harm befell thee

  From flames or waves. Thou clungest, weeping, to

  The robber’s bosom; and with terror trembling

  Thou hidst away thy face against his own.

  LX

  “Of aspect gloomy, in defiant calmness,

  With locks all singed, and raiment half consumed,

  Sat, pallid as the clouds’ weird apparitions,

  Upon my ship’s deck the expiring Darg.

  LXI

  “‘O King,’ he said, ‘ I now depart contented

  To yearned-for rest within Oblivion’s arms.

  One prayer, however, I desire to utter

  For her who grieves, alone on earth, my fall.

  LXII

  “‘It is not mine, the blood that thou beholdest

  Within her cheeks. The guilt of his own life

  The outlawed, persecuted evil-doer

  Has left for heritage to none on earth.

  LXIII

  “‘She was, one stormy Yule-eve, given to me

  By night-veiled sea, when, in the shelter dread

  Of Vidar’s headland, I had gone to anchor,

  Hard at the foot of Fialar’s kingly burg.

  LXIV

  “‘Deal not unkindly with her, thou whose mercy

  Will ne’er in song or story be forgot.

  Upon this earth she was the only being

  That won an hour of happiness from me.’”

  LXV

  Sweet on Oihonna’s cheek a tear descended,

  Whenas she heard the aged monarch’s tale.

  But soon away to sights of novel aspect

  Her brightened glances took their flight again.

  LXVI

  Down by the strand a war-cry sounded loudly;

  And with the tempest’s roar, the thunder’s din,

  Mingled the clang of many a shield belaboured,

  And echoes of the warriors’ merry shouts.

  LXVII

  He now was seen upon a darkened billow,

  He came, the eagle of the land of fogs;

  Himself the sea-king, Hialmar of the oceans,

  Now swooped upon the hosts of Morven’s realm.

  LXVIII

  And proud upon their native country’s foreshore

  Stood Selma’s warriors in a close array;

  A wall of rock defiantly
opposing

  A wave that heavenward rises to the shock.

  LXIX

  Then fell the stroke. The hour of battle sounded,

  The wave arisen broke against the rock.

  Host fell on host, and scattered on the seaboard

  Was wide about the spray of surging blood.

  LXX

  But silent and enchanted stood Oihonna;

  The maiden of the ocean now beheld

  Her very hero, meeting in the daytime

  The light she knew but from her world of dreams.

  LXXI

  She scanned his movements with her glance aflaming;

  She saw how, with the lightning of his sword,

  He through the clouds of Morven’s serried legions

  Broke for himself a clear and open path.

  LXXII

  With Lochlin’s people was the day already,

  Already Selma’s host was giving way.

  Already she beholds the fray’s abatement,

  The storm of slaughter settling into calm.

  LXXIII

  “Thy lip, Oihonna, keeps continued silence.

  Oh, answer me.” So spake Morannal now.

  “Why grows the clash of swords more rare already?

  Is Morven’s glory found to be no more?”

  LXXIV

  Thus questioned he. In trembling gave Oihonna

  The answer: “Father, now thou must rejoice.

  Anon, anon will Hialmar of the sagas

  Be but a bloodless shade upon the clouds.

  LXXV

  “He’s yielding, and his helm is split asunder;

  He is beset by all thy sons, O King!

  He fights alone; and at the princes’ contest

  A blank amazement reigneth over all.

  LXXVI

  “Gall, with his spear aloft, is thrusting boldly;

  Right keenly beams the blade in Rurmar’s hand;

  And, if I see aright, the sword is bloody

  Which by the arm of Clesamor is raised.”

  LXXVII

  Turned gloomy then the face of Morven’s ruler;

  In wrath he smote the shield he bore in youth;

  He raised his voice, and sternly he commanded

  An instant truce throughout the stricken field.

  LXXVIII

  “What!” he exclaimed, “must with disgrace be covered

  Morannal’s hoary head? Behoves it you,

  My sons, to do an outrage to his honour

  That has defied the shifts of fate and years?

  LXXIX

  “And must the song of Fingal’s race be smitten

  With fear, and flee the evening of my life,

  Lest it should taint itself with your dishonour,

  And soil the radiant splendour of its wings?

  LXXX

  “And lest in Lochlin’s countrysides the saga,

  When telling of the noble Hialmar’s fall,

  Should scornfully record how single-handed

  In fight with you, all three of you, he fell.

  LXXXI

  “Up, Gall; thou art, as he, a royal scion.