WO galleys, each with crimson sail,
Plough fast the green bath of the whale.
A fierce king stands on either prow,
A gold band round his knotty brow.
A bronze axe and an ivory horn
Are by each wrath king proudly borne.
A torque of twisted gold one wore—
That brooch Jarls from the walrus tore.
The raven banner's blowing black,
Their red prows cast a flaming track.
Clashing the gold links on his chest,
Each bids his rowers do their best.
The Saxon land is fair and green-
Broad meadows with a stream between.
Both galleys, with an equal beak,
Touch at one bound the sandy peak.
Both Norse kings leap at once to land,
Like sunbeams spring forth either hand.
Gunthron kneels down to kiss the earth,
Bonthron laughs loud with cruel mirth.
Then helm meets helm, and shield meets shield,
Red grows the sand, and red the field.
Gather, ye eagles, on the crag,
Swarm, ravens, on each chalky jag.
Notched splints of steel and shreds of gold
Are scattered on the Saxon mould.
Bright mail is cloven, flags are torn,
Dear are the shouts to Odin borne.
But all the fight, this narrow verse
May not, if it could, rehearse.
'This I know, a burial mound
Rises o'er that battle-ground;
And to this day the Saxon boor
Calls it in legends "Bonthron's Moor."
LUE night. I threw the lattice open wide,
Drinking the odorous air; and from my height
I saw the watch-fires of the town, and heard
The gradual dying of the murmurous day.
Then, as the twilight deepened, on her limbs
The silver lances of the stars and moon
Were shattered, and the shining fragments fell
Like jewels at her feet. The Cyprian star
Quivered to liquid emerald where it hung
On the ribb'd ledges of the darkening hills,
Gazing upon her; and, as in a dream,
Methought the marble, underneath that look,
Stirred-like a bank of milky asphodels
Kissed into tumult by a wind of light.
Whereat there swam upon me utterly
A drowsy sense wherein my holy dream
Was melted, as a pearl in wine: bright-eyed,
Keen, haggard, passionate, with languid thrills
Of insolent unrest, I watched the stone,
And lo, I loved it; not as men love fame,
Not as the warrior loves his laurel wreath,
But with prelusion of a passionate joy
That threw me from the height whereon I stood
To grasp at Glory, and with impiousness
Of sweet communing with some living Soul
Chambered in that cold bosom. As I gazed,
There was a buzz of revel in mine ears,
And tinkling fragments of a ditty of love,
Warbled by wantons over wine-cups, swam
Like bees within the brain. Then I was shamed
By her pale beauty, and I scorned myself,
And standing at the lattice dark and cool
Watched the dim winds of twilight enter in,
And draw a veil about that loveliness
White, dim, and breathed on by the common air.
But, like a snake's moist eye, the dewy star
Of lovers drew me; and I watched it grow
Large, soft, and tremulous; and as I gazed
In fascinated impotence of heart,
I prayed the lifeless silence might assume
A palpable life, and soften into flesh,
And be a beautiful and human joy
To crown my love withal; and thrice the prayer
Blackened across my pale face with no word.
But through the woolly silver of a cloud
The cool star dripping emerald from the baths
Of Ocean brightened in upon my tower,
And touched the marble forehead with a gleam
Soft, green, and dewy; and I said, "The
prayer
Is heard!"
The livelong night, the breathless night,
I waited in a darkness, in a dream,
Watching the snowy figure faintly seen,
And ofttimes shuddering when I seemed to see
Life, like a taper burning in a skull,
Gleam through the rayless eyes: yea, wearily
I hearkened through the dark and seemed to hear
The low warm billowing of a living breast,
Or the slow motion of anointed limbs
New-stirring into life; and, shuddering,
Fearing the thing I hoped for, awful eyed,
On her cold breast I placed a hand as cold
And sought a fluttering heart.—But all was still,
And chill, and breathless; and she gazed right on
With rayless orbs, nor marvelled at my touch:
White, silent, pure, ineffable, a shape
Rebuking human hope, a deathless thing,
Sharing the wonder of the Sun who sends
His long bright look through all futurity.
When Shame lay heavy on me, and I hid My face, and almost hated her, my work, Because she was so fair, so human fair,
Yea not divinely fair as that pure face
Which, when mine hour of loss and travail came,
Haunted me, out of heaven. Then the Dawn
Stared in upon her: when I opened eyes,
And saw the gradual Dawn encrimson her
Like blood that blushed within her,—and behold
She trembled-and I shrieked!
I gazed on her, my fame, my work, my love!
Red sunrise mingled with the first bright flush
Of palpable life-she trembled, stirred, and sighed
And the dim blankness of her stony eyes
Melted to azure. Then, by slow degrees,
She tingled with the milky warmth of blood:
Her eyes were vacant of a seeing soul,
But dewily the bosom rose and fell,
The lips caught sunrise, parting, and the breath
Fainted through pearly teeth.
Who gazes on a goddess serpent-eyed,
And cannot fly, and knows to look is death.
O apparition of my work and wish!
The weight of awe oppressed me, and the air
Swung as the Seas swing around drowning men.
Then sat we, side by side. She, queenly stoled, Amid the gleaming fountains of her hair,
With liquid azure orbs and rosy lips
Gorgeous with honeyed kisses; I like a man
Who loves fair eyes and knows they are a fiend's, And in them sees a heaven he knows is hell.
For, like a glorious beast, she ate and drank,
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