Classic Poem

King Bele and his vassal true, now breathe, alas! no more,
And in their tombs they both were placed beside the sea-beat shore:
According to their own request, each rite was strict fulfill'd,
And, at the heroes' funeral dirge, all eyes with tears were fill'd.
Helge and Halfdan share the throne, for all the nation's voice
Had sanctified with loud acclaim their dying monarch's choice.
But Thorsten's treasures now belong to Frithiof alone;
An only son, with none he shares, and all is now his own.
Of Frainnaes he possession took, a vast and rich domain;
Vallies and mountains three sides bound, the fourth the wat'ry main.
There woods of lofty birch-trees rise, to crown each sloping height,
And the rich waving fields of corn, like gold shine ever bright:
And many a spacious lake reflects the mountain, wood, and vale,
While in their mirror every tint is softer if more pale.
There, in the forest's deepest shade, high antler'd stags are found,
Who snuff the air, or drink the stream, or through the vallies bound.
See, in that peaceful lovely vale, where lows the mighty bull,
Large herds of beeves with shining skins, and cows with udder full —
Crop the high grass, or range along the thyme with keen delight;
And many flocks of sheep there stray with wool so soft and white:
So thou may'st sometimes see the clouds, in summer's brightest day,
Spread o'er the azure vault of heav'n when western breezes play.
There in the stable, steeds twice twelve impatient paw the ground,
Fiery and wild, like fetter'd winds that strive to break their bound:
Their hoofs are steel — red ribbands deck their manes — how shrill they neigh!
While from the lofty rack they tear and champ the fragrant hay.

A palace in itself appears the sumptuous banquet hall:
Of strongest fir was form'd the roof, of firmest oak the wall:
This hall five hundred guests at least could easily contain,
And the Jul feast to celebrate oft came a numerous train,
The whole length nearly of the hall extends the festive board,
Which, made of polish'd oak, shines bright, e'en like a hero's sword.
The throne of honor at one end, between two columns grand,
Was fixed, where sat the chief himself; and on the columns stand
The statues of two Gods, — the one great Odin's likeness shows, —
The other, Frey, who bears the sun upon his radiant brows.
And lately, on a skin so black, the spoils of vanquish'd bear,
(Red was the throat, with silver shod the paws) sat Thorsten there:
He quaff'd the mead; his jocund face beam'd welcome on each guest,
Like hospitality herself with joy-dilated breast.

And when, at night, the silver moon sail'd thro' the placid air,
The old man lov'd to dwell upon th' adventures wild and rare
Achiev'd, during his Viking's life, now on the Baltic shore,
Now at the western isles, where oft his conquering flag he bore.
The guests in silence watch his lips, while his clear accent flows;
The bee thus ever fondly clings to the soft 'fragrant rose.
But to the scalds his noble voice does Braga's harp recall,
When, from his honied lips, the runes of arms and glory fall —
As he beneath an arbour sits, and chaunts the deeds of fame,
Himself a legend, near the wave which murmurs Mimer's name.
Straight from the centre of the hall the kindling flames ascend,
And warmth and cheerfulness around to ev'ry guest they lend:
But though with straw the hall itself is thickly cover'd o'er,
There, where the fire so fiercely burns, of stone is form'd the floor.
Around the wall, on nails of steel, the casques and corslets bright
Are plac'd, with swords that ever gleam like shooting stars at night:
But, more than all, the bucklers shine, like the moon's silver ray,
Or the sun's disk of gold: and when a maiden moves that way,
To offer cups of hydromel to all the guests around,
She blushes, and her laughing eyes she fixes on the ground,
For ev'ry shield reflects her form: this makes the champions laugh,
And many a wanton jest goes round, while they their nectar quaff.

The house was amply furnish'd too with all things rich and fair;
The larders were with viands fill'd; the caves held liquors rare:
The granaries were piled with corn, and stones of countless price,
In battle gain'd, were treasured there, and gold, that might suffice
To purchase palaces and lands, so plenteous was the store:
And many curious foreign coins, which strange inscriptions bore.

More precious than these treasures all, three objects there were found,
And justly did their great renown in northern climes resound.
The first a sword of matchless force, and of immortal fame,
The " lightning's brother " often call'd, — and well applied the name
To Angurvadel, blade so true: it came from distant lands
In the far east, so legends tell; and by the skilful hands
Of Gnomes 'twas form'd, and prov'd in fire; so firm and sharp the steel,
They, whom it strikes, ne'er linger long to tell the pain they feel.
Biorn Blue Tooth was the first, 'tis said, who gain'd this matchless sword;
One fatal day the sword was lost, and with it fell its lord;
'Twas in the bay of Groninga, when he with Vifell strove;
And Viking, who was Vifell's son, did thus his valor prove.
In Ulleroker reign'd a King, who had a daughter fair;
All men admired this gentle maid, her beauty was so rare.
Lo! from a forest deep and dark a hideous giant came,
Far taller than the race of men, — and what is now his aim?
Alas! he comes to claim that maid, so beautiful and mild;
To single combat each defies, and threatens loud and wild
The Prince himself, should he refuse the bride he now demands:
None dare accept th' unequal strife, for what can mortal hands
Against a scull so thick and tough as that the giant bore?
Thence Iron-head he still was term'd, in those fam'd days of yore.
Viking alone, who scarcely then had fifteen winters seen,
The combat fearlessly accepts he trembles not, I ween,
But strikes with Angurvadel once, — and even now, behold!
The giant falls! the Princess, free'd, thanks her deliverer hold.
Frithiof inherited this sword; whene'er the blade he drew,
The lofty hall was quite illum'd, so dazzling was it's hue.
In darkest night thus flashes oft the lightning's dart on high,
And thus the meteors in the north shoot thro' the evening sky.
The handle was of well wrought gold; the blade of steel most bright;
Thereon were graven many runes, which startled human sight;
And no man in the north could well those letters, understand.
But, at the portal of the sun, there is a lofty land,
Where once our fathers dwelt, before the Asas led them forth
To subjugate and occupy the regions of the north,
Oh! there are magic runes well known, all recognise their might,
We view them here with awe profound, but read them not aright.
No lustre e'er those letters gave, while peace reign'd in the land;
But when, to loose the dogs of war, stern Hildur waves her wand,
So red and flaming they become, men tremble at their view;
E'en thus the crest of angry cock assumes a deeper hue.
Woe to the wretch who meets this sword, in battle's fearful night!
All know it straight, for all can see the runes that glare so bright.
Its fame was spread the world around; none could dispute its worth;
'Twas ever deem'd, beyond compare, the best sword in the north.

A bracelet was the next thing found of greatest value there,
And lame Vaulunder wrought the same of chissell'd gold most rare:
Three marks it weigh'd; and grav'd thereon the heavens you might descry;
With the twelve stations, where the Gods in glory dwell on high, —
Type of the course which all the months in due succession run,
But ever, by the poets term'd, the palace of the sun.
Alfhem, the residence of Frey, you there distinctly trace;
That is the sun when first he wakes, and eager in the race,
Ascends the cold, blue vault of heav'n, in winter's shortest day.
And Soquaback is also there, and Odin sheds his ray,
Presiding in his banquet hall, with Saga by his side;
His wine he quaffs from cup of gold, in true immortal pride:
That cup the boundless sea denotes, tinged with morn's rosy smile;
And Saga is the rosy spring, who, blushing all the while,
Instead of runes, with fairest flowers writes on the verdent plain:
And Balder, seated on his throne, there holds his glorious reign.
That is the sun at midsummer, whose smiles of magic fill
All nature with content and joy, of Good the emblem still:
For Good is typified by light; darkness denoteth Ill.
The sun at length becomes fatigued; no farther he ascends;
And Good becomes e'en dizzy thus, whene'er his sight he bends
From the great height, which he hath climb'd with weary steps and slow:
Then sighing, both descend, alas! to deepest shades below,
Where Hela dwells: there Balder lies upon the funeral pile.
The mansion, Glitner, too is seen, where truth and concord smile;
Forsete, arbiter of Heav'n, there holds supreme command, —
As judge, in autumn, he presides, with balance in his hand.
And many other vivid forms were traced upon the gold;
Between the powers of light and gloom, the struggle there was told:
And even as that strife takes place in man's still changing mind,
It there was painted to the life, each feeling well defin'd.
Ah! who could e'er those figures view, and not their import feel,
And 'gainst all evil thoughts resolve his bosom firm to steel?
A brilliant ruby form'd its clasp, — thus in yon vaulted sky,
Still crowning all, the sun gives light from his bright throne on high.
For many years had Viking's house possess'd this bracelet rare;
From the maternal side it came: with more than wonted care
Vaulunder each bold figure traced, and wrought himself the gold,
And man must ever with delight the work of Gods behold.
Sote, the well known robber chief, once stole this jewel bright,
The same who through the western seas spread terror and affright.
None knew where he had bent his steps; none, his career could trace;
The ocean's billows n'er betray the bark's swift noiseless pace;
At length the welcome news arriv'd, that, on fair Albion's shore,
With all the ill-got piles of wealth his pirate vessel bore,
Fell Sote was himself confin'd in a deep rocky cave.
Thorsten to Bele then proposed to cross the bounding wave,
And seek the treasures on the spot where Sote was confin'd.
The bark they mount, and hoist the sail, and soon the cavern find:
A vaulted grotto in the rock was form'd with wondrous care,
As palace, or as temple vast. Sote keeps vigil there,
In penance dire; the warriors strain their keen and eager sight
Through a wide crevice in the rock, and by a faint blue light,
The pitch-black Viking ship is seen, her masts, sails, cordage all,
And anchor huge; upon the deck, a spectre grim and tall
Sits in a mantle wrapp'd of flame he rubs his sword, a stain
As if t' efface, but vain his toil; the blood drops still remain.
Rich piles of gold, his ill-got wealth, were strew'd around the floor,
But on his arm, his nobler prize, the bracelet still he bore.
" Oh, let us in that cavern dark, brave Thorsten, now descend,
And with the hideous spectre fight, " said Bele to his friend;
" Two mortals 'gainst a fiend of fire; our steel with flames may vie. "
But Thorsten to his royal friend thus sternly made reply
" Bele! our fathers ever fought, one man oppos'd to one;
That custom I will ne'er infringe, and here I'll fight alone. "
They long disputed on this point, with firm aud earnest will,
For neither would precedence yield, this mission to fulfil.
At length King Bele takes his casque of steel so dazzling bright,
Two lots he throws, while twinkling stars give pale and chequer'd light,
'Tis Thorsten draws the winning lot; no man can fate oppose;
And he with joyful haste prepares with that dread fiend to close.
He strikes the gate, his lance is true; the locks and bolts give way
He plunges in the cavern straight, which now wide open lay.
That combat he would ne'er describe, nor that fell demon's might:
And if his friends e'er sought to know what there appear'd in sight,
He trembled, and no answer gave: but Bele from the rock
First heard a wild demoniac song; and next the sudden shock
Of bucklers that together clash, and arms that fierce resound;
Next a loud, fearful shriek arose; and silence then profound.
Then Thorsten rushing from the cave, all pale and haggard came,
For he had struggled with the dead, — the spectre dire of flame!
In his left hand the bracelet bright in triumph he display'd;
" Ah! dearly hath it been redeem'd, " the hero often said;
" But once my heart knew mortal fear, but once my color fled —
Once in my life; 'twas in that cave, when fighting with the dead. "
This splendid ornament had great and well deserved renown,
And was the highest valued gem in northern regions known.
The third thing of esteem and price Frithiof at Framnaes found,
Was the good ship, Ellida hight; the bark the most renown'd
That ever plough'd the stormy seas: thus was the story told
Of her appearance on the coast. Viking, that hero bold
Returning from a warlike course, spied, from his vessel's deck,
A stranger calmly seated on the fragment of a wreck.
The billows rose, and heav'd the plank; no terror chang'd his eye,
Nor blanch'd his cheek of ruddy hue; can he thus death defy,
And fearlessly with danger play, as if the boiling wave
His accents knew, and must obey each mandate that he gave?
Tall and majestic was his form, and, though he smiled, his brow
Chang'd, like the tints the sun at noon sheds on the wave below
His scarf and mantle were with gold and coral studded o'er;
Azure his vest, and white his beard, like waves when tempests roar.
And green as sea-weed were the locks, that in profusion clung
To his commanding, ample front, and o'er his shoulders hung.
Viking his bark directed straight to where that stranger bold,
Perch'd on a fragile plank, thus brav'd the ocean's billows cold.
He found him more than half congeal'd; he placed him by the fire;
But when night came; and he propos'd that they should both retire
To their warm couch, and sleep in peace until the dawn of day,
His guest survey'd him with surprise, and smiling thus did say:
" The wind blows fresh; and thou hast seen my bark may storms defy:
This night an hundred leagues, at least, with her I hope to fly;
I thank thee, Viking, for thy care; and I would fain reward
Thy kindness in my hour of need, and thy free offer'd board,
By some most rare and precious gift, that shall for ever prove
The friendship and the grateful thoughts that now my bosom move:
My kingdom on the ocean lies; on land I nought possess:
Thou mayst perchance to-morrow find that I thy wishes guess. "
The next day Viking look'd around, and saw, upon the bay,
A vessel, like the eagle swift, when rushing on his prey,
That now into the harbor sail'd: no man was there insight,
But still the self-directed helm guided the bark aright.
Was it a spirit of the deep who drove the ship so fast?
It nears the port; the sails are lower'd; the anchor now is cast:
No mortal hand was there engag'd: " can this enchantment be? "
Quoth Viking, in amazement: hark! a voice comes from the sea!
" Accept this bark! 'tis Agir's gift of gratitude to thee! "
Of one vast trunk the hull was formed, nor nail nor seam in view;
Like dragon of the sea in length, it's color green and blue;
The prow, high rais'd above the wave, was gold and red so bright;
The poop was like a serpent's tail with scales of silv'ry white.
The sails were black, with scarlet bound, and when they were unfurl'd,
No eagle ever flew so fast; no tempest ever hurl'd
The thunderbolt with half such speed in the rough tempest's night.
And when, with all her warriors fill'd, she tow'red upon the sight,
A floating fortress she appear'd, or palace of the sea;
No, never yet was vessel seen, Ellida, like to thee:
And well deserv'd was thy renown on every northern shore,
Thou wert indeed the noblest bark the ocean ever bore.

And Frithiof too became possess'd of many other things;
In riches none with him could vie, except the northern kings;
For they all other men in wealth and grandeur leave behind;
But though no monarch's son was he, yet royal was his mind.
Twelve aged men were ever found by the young hero's side;
Their silver locks command respect, and who would not confide
In their sage mien, their princely air, their stately martial tread?
Yes! they have noble warriors been; and plainly may be read
The story of their battles fierce, on each deep furrow'd brow.
Why are their breasts incas'd in steel? they cannot combat now:

Oh! it was thus on battle field, by Thorsteu's side they mov'd,
They will not cast away the arms their honor'd chieftain lov'd.
Close to these aged warriors sat a gallant, blooming youth,
" Biorn " was his name, of Frithiof's age; and there he shone, in truth,
Like the fresh rose 'midst faded leaves, in autumn's stormy time;
Gay as a boy, yet firm and bold, as suiteth manhood's prime,
And sage as he whose thoughtful eye hath many winters seen.
Frithiof had lov'd him from a child; like brothers they had been;
The cup of blood they freely drink, and truest friendship swear, —
(That surest pledge of northern faith) and promise then to share
All good or ill, all joy and woe; and if, depriv'd of breath,
Either should sink by treacherous blow, t'avenge each other's death.

In midst of all the warriors there, and many other guests,
Who met to mourn the honor'd chief, who in the tomb now rests,
Young Frithiof sat, a mourning host, the teardrop in his eye,
And often from his lab'ring breast escapes a stifled sigh.
Then, as the ancient rite ordain'd, he pledg'd his father's name;
The scalds a glorious drapa chaunt, in honor of the same.
He then assumes his father's seat, for that is now his own,
'Tween Frey and Odin there he sits, in highest state alone;
That is the place of Thor above, the god with martial brow,
When in Valhalla's banquet hall, the brimming mead cups flow.