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"I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee! 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; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound, Trembled to walk on.

"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 were-wolf's bark,
Until the soaring lark
Sang from the meadow.

"But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.

"Many a wassail-bout Wore the long Winter out; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail," Filled to o'erflowing.

"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, Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand,, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story.

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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 mouth,

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 frightened 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.

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"O father! I hear the church-bells ring, O say, what may it be? ""T is 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,

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.-THE ELECTED KNIGHT.

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Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light:
"This glass of flashing crystal tall
Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite;
She wrote in it, If this glass doth fall,
Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall!

"T was right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall!
Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!"

First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the song of a nightingale;
Then like the roar of a torrent wild;
Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall.

"For its keeper takes a race of might,
The fragile goblet of crystal tall;
It has lasted longer than is right;
Kling! klang! with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall!"

As the goblet ringing flies apart,
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall;
And through the rift, the wild flames start;
The guests in dust are scattered all,
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall!

In storms the foe, with fire and sword;
He in the night had scaled the wall,
Slain by the sword lies the youthful Lord,
But holds in his hand the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall.

THE ELECTED KNIGHT.

FROM THE DANISH.

SIR OLUF he rideth over the plain,

Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide, But never, ah never can meet with the man A tilt with him dare ride.

He saw under the hillside

A Knight full well equipped;

His steed was black, his helm was barred; He was riding at full speed.

He wore upon his spurs

Twelve little golden birds;

Anon he spurred his steed with a clang, And there sat all the birds and sang.

He wore upon his mail

Twelve little golden wheels;

Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,

And round and round the wheels they flew.

He wore before his breast

A lance that was poised in rest;
And it was sharper than diamond-stone,
It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.

He wore upon his helm

A wreath of ruddy gold;
And that gave him the Maidens Three,
The youngest was fair to behold.

Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon
If he were come from heaven down;
"Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he,
"So will I yield me unto thee.'

"I am not Christ the Great,
Thou shalt not yield thee yet;

I am an Unknown Knight,

Three modest Maidens have me bedight."

"Art thou a Knight elected,

And have three Maidens thee bedight; So shalt thou ride a tilt this day, For all the Maidens' honor !""

The first tilt they together rode
They put their steeds to the test;
The second tilt they together rode,
They proved their manhood best,

The third tilt they together rode,
Neither of them would yield;
The fourth tilt they together rode,
They both fell on the field.

Now lie the lords upon the plain,

And their blood runs unto death; Now sit the Maidens in the high tower, The youngest sorrows till death.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER.

FROM THE SWEDISH OF BISHOP Tegnér.

PENTECOST, day of rejoicing, had come. The

church of the village

Gleaming stood in the morning's sheen. On the spire of the belfry,

Decked with a brazen cock, the friendly flames

of the Spring-sun

Glanced like the tongues of fire, beheld by Apostles aforetime.

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Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with her cap crowned with roses,

Stood in her holiday dress in the fields, and the wind and the brooklet

Murmured gladness and peace, God's-peace! with lips rosy-tinted

Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry on balancing branches

Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the Highest.

Swept and clean was the churchyard. Adorned like a leaf-woven arbor

Stood its old-fashioned gate; and within upon each cross of iron

Hung was a fragrant garland, new twined by the hands of affection.

Even the dial, that stood on a mound among the departed,

(There full a hundred years had it stood), was embellished with blossoms.

Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith and the hamlet,

Who on his birthday is crowned by children and children's children,

So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his pencil of iron

Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured the time and its changes,

While all around at his feet, an eternity slumbered in quiet.

Also the church within was adorned, for this was

the season

When the young, their parents' hope, and the loved-ones of heaven,

Should at the foot of the altar renew the vows of

their baptism.

Therefore each nook and corner was swept and

cleaned, and the dust was

Blown from the walls and ceiling, and from the oil-painted benches.

From noble arms

There stood the church like a garden; the Feast
of the Leafy Pavilions
Saw we in living presentment.
on the church wall
Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preacher's
pulpit of oak-wood

Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rod be-
fore Aaron.

Wreathed thereon was the Bible with leaves, and the dove, washed with silver,

Under its canopy fastened, had on it a necklace of wind-flowers.

But in front of the choir, round the altar-piece painted by Hörberg,

Crept a garland gigantic; and bright-curling tresses of angels

Peeped, like the sun from a cloud, from out of the shadowy leaf-work

Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, blinked from the ceiling,

And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set in the sockets.

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Loud rang the bells already; the thronging crowd was assembled

Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy preaching.

Hark! then roll forth at once the mighty tones of the organ,

Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible spirits.

Like as Elias in heaven, when he cast from off him his mantle,

So cast off the soul its garments of earth; and with one voice

Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem
immortal

Of the sublime Wallin, of David's harp in the
North-land

Tuned to the choral of Luther; the song on its
mighty pinions

Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven And each face did shine like the Holy One's face upon Tabor.

Lo! there entered then into the church the Rev-
erend Teacher.

Father he hight and he was in the parish; a
Christianly plainness

Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of
seventy winters.

Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the heralding angel

Walked he among the crowds, but still a contemplative grandeur

Lay on his forehead as clear as on moss-covered gravestone a sunbeam.

As in his inspiration (an evening twilight that faintly

Gleams in the human soul, even now, from the
day of creation)

Th' Artist, the friend of heaven, imagines Saint
John when in Patmos,

Gray, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, so seemed
then the old man ;

Such was the glance of his eye, and such were his tresses of silver.

All the congregation arose in the pews that were numbered.

But with a cordial look, to the right and the

left hand, the old man

Nodding all hail and peace, disappeared in the innermost chancel.

Simply and solemnly now proceeded the Christian service,

Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent discourse from the old man,

Many a moving word and warning, that out of the heart came,

Fell like the dew of the morning, like manna on those in the desert.

Then, when all was finished, the Teacher reentered the chancel,

Followed therein by the young. The boys on the right had their places,

Delicate figures, with close-curling hair and
cheeks rosy-blooming.

But on the left of these there stood the tremulous
lilies,

Tinged with the blushing light of the dawn, the
diffident maidens,-

Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes cast
down on the pavement.

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