Classic Poem

PRELUDE

1

A hostelry in Upland town;
Outside the rain was pouring down;
Within the night
With mirth was bright,
And wassail did the tempest drown;
The fire was warm, the ale was good,
The landlord in a jovial mood,
And merrily ran the Norseman's blood.

2

Grouped round the blazing logs of Yule,
Tales of their forefathers they told;
Of vikings who the seas did rule,
Skillful in storm, in battle bold;
Of one whose boat,
'Tis said, did float
Once on this broad South River's breast:
Whose men did land
Where now doth stand
The Hall of Printz; whose life was quest;
Who, eagle-like, espied the West
Long ere the illustrious Genoese
Sensed land upon the Haytian breeze;
Whose galleys sailed from Norway down,
Tost thither by tempestuous seas,
Unto a spot before ne'er told,
The Vinland of the Sagas old,
A region, henceforth, of renown—
The Paradise of Leif the bold;
Unto a fair and fruitful land
Where, though unplanted by man's hand,
The purple grape filled all the wood,
And, though unsown, from green to gold,
Ripened the corn upon the wold,
And everything, save man, seemed good;
Unto that land beyond the seas
Where now, amidst primeval trees
Embowered, stands fair Upland town,
A new-world gem in Sweden's crown.

3

Last spoke, with details long drawn out,
A learned burgher, hale and stout;
His hair and beard with years were gray,
But red his cheeks as apples gay,
And bright his eyes
As though youth's skies
Danced over him but yesterday.
A man of mark was he, and bore
A name well-known on Sweden's shore,
For of his blood those brothers twain
Who figure in great Vasa's reign,
Divines both bold and erudite,
Born or to reason or to fight.

4

Their chairs his listeners nearer pull;
He drains the glass which has been full,
And, while the lights and shadows flit
Over the groups that round him sit,
Relates the tale which here is writ.

PRELUDE

1

A hostelry in Upland town;
Outside the rain was pouring down;
Within the night
With mirth was bright,
And wassail did the tempest drown;
The fire was warm, the ale was good,
The landlord in a jovial mood,
And merrily ran the Norseman's blood.

2

Grouped round the blazing logs of Yule,
Tales of their forefathers they told;
Of vikings who the seas did rule,
Skillful in storm, in battle bold;
Of one whose boat,
'Tis said, did float
Once on this broad South River's breast:
Whose men did land
Where now doth stand
The Hall of Printz; whose life was quest;
Who, eagle-like, espied the West
Long ere the illustrious Genoese
Sensed land upon the Haytian breeze;
Whose galleys sailed from Norway down,
Tost thither by tempestuous seas,
Unto a spot before ne'er told,
The Vinland of the Sagas old,
A region, henceforth, of renown—
The Paradise of Leif the bold;
Unto a fair and fruitful land
Where, though unplanted by man's hand,
The purple grape filled all the wood,
And, though unsown, from green to gold,
Ripened the corn upon the wold,
And everything, save man, seemed good;
Unto that land beyond the seas
Where now, amidst primeval trees
Embowered, stands fair Upland town,
A new-world gem in Sweden's crown.

3

Last spoke, with details long drawn out,
A learned burgher, hale and stout;
His hair and beard with years were gray,
But red his cheeks as apples gay,
And bright his eyes
As though youth's skies
Danced over him but yesterday.
A man of mark was he, and bore
A name well-known on Sweden's shore,
For of his blood those brothers twain
Who figure in great Vasa's reign,
Divines both bold and erudite,
Born or to reason or to fight.

4

Their chairs his listeners nearer pull;
He drains the glass which has been full,
And, while the lights and shadows flit
Over the groups that round him sit,
Relates the tale which here is writ.