_By_ HENRY W. LONGFELLOW
"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,
Why dost thou haunt me?"
Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the northern skies
Gleam in December;
And, like the water's flow
Under December's snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
From the heart's chamber.
"I was a Viking[1] old!
My deeds, though manifold,
No Skald[2] in song has told,
No Saga[3] taught thee!
[Footnote 1: _Vikings_ was the name given to the bold Norse seamen who
in the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries infested the northern seas.
Tradition maintains that a band of these rovers discovered America
centuries before Columbus.]
[Footnote 2: A skald was a Norse poet who celebrated in song the deeds
of warriors.]
[Footnote 3: A saga is an ancient Scandinavian legend or tradition,
relating mythical or historical events.]
"Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man's curse;
For this I sought thee.
"Far in the Northern Land,
By the wild Baltic's strand,
I, with my childish hand,
Tamed the gerfalcon;[4]
And, with my skates fast-bound,
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,
That the poor whimpering hound
Trembled to walk on.
[Footnote 4: A gerfalcon is a large falcon of Northern Europe.]
"Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear,
While from my path the hare
Fled like a shadow;
Oft through the forest dark
Followed the werewolf's[5] bark,
Until the soaring lark
Sang from the meadow.
[Footnote 5: According to a popular superstition, a werewolf is a man,
who, at times, is transformed into a wolf. Such a wolf is much more
savage than a real wolf, and is especially fond of human flesh. This
superstition has at some time existed among almost all peoples.]
"But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair's[6] crew,
O'er the dark sea I flew
With the marauders.
Wild was the life we led;
Many the souls that sped,
[Footnote 6: _Corsair_ is but another name for a pirate.]
[Illustration: I WAS A VIKING OLD]
Many the hearts that bled,
By our stern orders.
"Many a wassail-bout[7]
Wore the long Winter out;
Often our midnight shout
Set the cocks crowing,
As we the Berserk's[8] tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail,
Filled to o'erflowing.
[Footnote 7: A wassail-bout is a drinking bout, or carouse.]
[Footnote 8: _Berserk_, or _Berserker_, was the name given in heathen
times in Scandinavia to a wild warrior or champion. The Berserkers, it
is said, had fits of madness, when they foamed at the mouth and howled
like beasts, rushing into battle naked and defenseless. It was believed
that at such times they were proof against wounds either from fire or
from steel.]
"Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,
Burning yet tender;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine,
On that dark heart of mine
Fell their soft splendor.
"I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest's shade
Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest
By the hawk frighted.
"Bright in her father's hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
Chaunting 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 arméd 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,[9]
So that our foe we saw
Laugh as he hailed us.
[Footnote 9: The Skaw is the most northerly point of Denmark.]
"And as to catch the gale
Round veered the flapping sail,
Death! 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 lee-ward;
There for my lady's bower
Built I the lofty tower,[10]
Which, to this very hour,
Stands looking seaward.
[Footnote: 10. At Newport in Rhode Island is an old stone tower, which
tradition says was built by the Norsemen when they visited this country.
That is the tower to which Longfellow refers here.]
[Illustration: THREE WEEKS WE WESTWARD BORE]
"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_![11] the Northland! _skoal_!"
--Thus the tale ended.
[Footnote 11: _Skoal_ is the customary salutation in Scandinavia when a
health is drunk.]
[Illustration: Round Tower at Newport]