"Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall, Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory;When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story.
"While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn, Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam lightly.
"She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, 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 Her nest unguarded?
"Scarce had I put to sea, Bearing the maid with me, Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen!
When on the white sea-strand, Waving his armed hand, Saw we old Hildebrand, 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 Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us.
"And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death I was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter!
Mid-ships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water!
"As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt With his prey laden, So toward the open main, Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden.
"Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward;There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, 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!
Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful!
In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, O, 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.
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS
It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea;And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his month, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old Sailor, Had sailed to the Spanish Main, "I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane.
"Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!"The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast.
The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength;She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length.
"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so;For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow."He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast;He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast.
"O father! I hear the church-bells ring, O say, what may it be?""'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"--And he steered for the open sea.
"O father! I hear the sound of guns, O say, what may it be?""Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!""O father! I see a gleaming light O say, what may it be?"But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face turned to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be;And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Through the whistling sleet and snow, Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.
And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land;It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.
She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board;Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, Ho! ho! the breakers roared!
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast.
The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes;And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands;The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands;And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan;His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow;You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
