TEGNER'S DRAPA. Borne through the Northern sky. Blasts from Niffelheim Lifted the sheeted mists Around him as he passed. And the voice for ever cried, "Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!" And died away Through the dreary night, In accents of despair. Balder the Beautiful, God of the summer sun, Light from his forehead beamed, All things in earth and air The sacred mistletoe! Hæder, the blind old God, The accursed mistletoe! They laid him in his ship, With horse and harness, As on a funeral pyre. A ring upon his finger, And whispered in his ear. They launched the burning ship! It floated far away Over the misty sea, Till like the sun it seemed, Sinking beneath the waves. So perish the old Gods! Fairer than the old. Over its meadows green Walk the young bards and sing. Build it again, O ye bards, Fairer than before! Ye fathers of the new race, Feed upon morning dew, Sing the new Song of Love! The law of force is dead! The law of love prevails! Thor, the thunderer, Shall rule the earth no more, No more, with threats, Challenge the meek Christ. Sing no more, O ye bards of the North, Of Vikings and of Jarls! Of the days of Eld Preserve the freedom only, Not the deeds of blood! SONNET ON MRS. KEMBLE'S READINGS FROM SHAKSPEARE. O PRECIOUS evenings! all too swiftly sped! Leaving us heirs to amplest heritages Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, And giving tongues unto the silent dead! How our hearts glowed and trembled as she read, Of the great poet who foreruns the ages, O happy Reader! having for thy text The magic book, whose Sibylline leaves have caught The rarest essence of all human thought! O happy Poet! by no critic vext! How must thy listening spirit now rejoice To be interpreted by such a voice! THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon earth That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again. The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, And stirred with accents deep and loud A gray, old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three But the great Master said, "I see I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone! Take them, O Grave! and let them lie Take them, O great Eternity! Our little life is but a gust, That bends the branches of thy tree, And trails its blossoms in the dust. |