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Thou the destroyer of herds, thou the scattere & Now bid the steeple rock-she comes, she comes ! navies, Speak for us, bells I speak for us, shrill-tongued Amidst the scream of thy rage, tuckets!
Amidst the rushing of thy onward wings, Stand to the linstock, gunner; let thy cannon Though thy scream be loud as the cry of a perist Play such a peal, as if a Paynim foe
ing nation, Came stretch'd in turban'd ranks to storm the Though the rushing of thy wings be like the rear ramparts.
of ten thousand waves,
Hear thou the voice of the Reim-kennar.
Thou hast met the pine-trees of Drontheim, The wisest sovereigns err like private men, Their dark-green heads lie prostrate beside their And royal hand has sometimes laid the sword
uprooted stems; Of chivalry upon a worthless shoulder,
Thou hast met the rider of the ocean, Which better had been branded by the hangman. The tall, the strong bark of the fearless rover, What then? Kings do their best,—and they and we And she has struck to thee the topsail Must answer for the intent, and not the event. That she had not veild to a royal armada:
Old Play Thou hast met the tower that bears its crest among the clouds,
[days (12.)-CHAP. XXXIII.
The battled massive tower of the Jarl of former Here stands the victim—there the proud betrayer, And the cope-stone of the turret E'en as the hind pull’d down by strangling dogs Is lying upon its hospitable hearth ; Lies at the hunter's feet, who courteous proffers But thou too shalt stoop, proud compeller of clouds, To some high dame, the Dian of the chase, When thou hearest the voice of the Reim-kennar. To whom he looks for guerdon, his sharp blade, To gash the sobbing throat.
3. The Woodsman. There are verses that can stop the stag in the
forest, (13.)-CHAP. XL.
Ay, and when the dark-color'd dog is opening on High o'er the eastern steep the sun is beaming,
his track; And darkness flies with her deceitful shadows; There are verses can make the wild hawk pause So truth prevails o'er falsehood.
on the wing,
And the crash of the ravaged forest,
And the groan of the overwhelm'd crowds,
There are sounds which thon also must list,
When they are chanted by the voice of the Reim(1.)—THE SONG OF THE TEMPEST.
kennar. “A NORWEGIAN invocation, still preserved in the
4. island of Unst, under the name of the Song of the Enough of woe hast thou wrought on the ocean, Reim-kennar, though some call it the Song of the The widows wring their hands on the beach ; Tempest. The following is a free translation, it Enough of woe hast thou wrought on the land, being impossible to render literally many of the The husbandman folds his arms in despair; elliptical and metaphorical terms of expression pe-Cease thou the waving of thy pinions, culiar to the ancient Northern poetry:"- Let the ocean repose in her dark strength;
Cease thou the flashing of thine eye, 1.
Let the thunderbolt sleep in the armory of Odin; STERN eagle of the far north-west,
Be thou still at my bidding, viewless racer of the Thou that bearest in thy grasp the thunderbolt,
north-western heavenThou whose rushing pinions stir ocean to madness, Sleep thou at the voice of Norna the Reim-kennar.
5. Eagle of the far north-western waters, Thou hast heard the voice of the Reim-kennar, Thou hast closed thy wide sails at her bidding, And folded them in peace by thy side. My blessing be on thy retiring path; When thou stoopest from thy place on high, Soft be thy slumbers in the caverns of the unknown
ocean, Rest till destiny shall again awaken thee; Eagle of the north-west, thou hast heard the voice of the Reim-kennar.
(3).—THE SONG OF HAROLD HARFAGER.
The sun is rising dimly red,
Many a crest on air is streaming,
(2.)-CLAUD HALCRO'S SONG.
FAREWELL to Northmaven,
Gray Hillswicke, farewell! To the calms of thy haven,
The storms on thy fell To each breeze that can vary
The mood of thy main, And to thee, bonny Mary!
We meet not again !
“ Halt ye not for food or slumber,
Farewell the wild ferry,
Which Hacon could brave, When the peaks of the Skerry
Were white in the wave. There's a maid may look over
These wild waves in vain, For the skiff of her lover
He comes not again!
The vows thou hast broke,
On the wild currents fling them; On the quicksand and rock
Let the mermaidens sing them. New sweetness they'll give her
Bewildering strain ;
Believe them again.
“Fatal Choosers of the Slaughter, O'er you
hovers Odin's daughter; Hear the choice she spreads before ye, Victory, and wealth, and glory; Or old Valhalla's roaring hail, Her ever-circling mead and ale, Where for eternity unite The joys of wassail and of fight. Headlong forward, foot and horsemen, Charge and fight, and die like Norsemen I"
(4.)-SONG OF THE MERMAIDS AND
O were there an island,
Though ever so wild, Where woman could smile, and
No man be beguiledToo tempting a snare
To poor mortals were given; And the hope would fix there,
That should anchor in heaven.
Fathoms deep beneath the wave,
Stringing beads of glistering pearl, Singing the achievements brave
Of many an old Norwegian earl ;
Dwelling where the tempest's raving,
Falls as light upon our ear,
Pity from his lady dear,
Daughters of northern Magnus, hail !
The lamp is lit, the flame is clear,-
(6.)-CLAUD HALCRO AND NORNA.
From reining of the water-horse,
Chasing the sea-snake irf his roaming; From winding charge-notes on the shell,
When the huge whale and sword-fish duel, Or tolling shroudless seamen's knell,
When the winds and waves are cruel;
MOTHER darksome, Mother dread,
MERMAIDS AND MERMEN.
A hundred fathom deep below,
That drown each sound of war and woe.
Love the song of Thule well;
Dance, and song, and sounding shell.
The thought of the aged is ever on gear,-
Huzza! my brave comrades, give way for the
Haaf, We shall sooner come back to the dance and the
laugh; For light without mirth is a lamp without oil; Then, mirth and long life to the bold Magnus Troil !
MAGNUS TROIL. Mother speak, and do not tarry, Here's a maiden fain would marry.
And you shall deal my lands so wide,
And deal my castles nine.
While Beauty sleeps !
To prompt a theme,
For Beauty's dream, Soft as the pillow of her slumbers !
But deal not vengeance for the deed,
And deal not for the crime; The body to its place, and the soul to Heaven's
grace, And the rest in God's own time.
Sigh gales of balm,
While through the gloom
Comes soft perfume, The distant beds of flowers revealing.
No dream can give
No longer sleep,
From lattice peep, And list the tale that Love is telling.
Saint Magnus control thee, that martyr of trea
son ; Saint Ronan rebuke thee, with rhyme and with
reason; By the mass of Saint Martin, the might of Saint
shame, and sin,
thee, The worm, thy play-fellow, wails for the want
of thee: Hence, houseless ghost ! let the earth hide thee, ! Till Michael shall blow the blast, see that there
thou bide thee! Phantom, fly hence! take the Cross for a token, Hence pass till Hallowmass !—my spell is spoken.
Farewell! Farewell! the voice you hear,
Has left its last soft tone with you,Its next must join the seaward cheer,
And shout among the shouting crew.
The accents which I scarce could form
Beneath your frown's controlling check, Must give the word, above the storm,
To cut the mast, and clear the wreck.
The timid eye I dared not raise,
The hand, that shook when press'd to thine, Must point the guns upon the chase
Must bid the deadly cutlass shine.
To all I love, or hope, or fear,
Honor, or own, a long adieu !
Menseful maiden ne'er should rise,
(9.)-CLAUD HALORO'S VERSES.
And you shall deal the funeral dole ;
Ay, deal it, mother mine, To weary body, and to heavy soul,
The white bread and the wine.
you shall deal my horses of pride; Ay, deal them, mother mine ;
CHAMPION, famed for warlike toil, Art thou silent, Ribolt Troil I