Poems and Songs Part 7

But look you, this knowledge, to no purpose grew it, I farther will go, Heaven guard, lest we rue it,-- If only you knew it!

THE ANGELS OF SLEEP

Asleep the child fell When night cast its spell; The angels came near With laughter and cheer.

Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping: "How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while sleeping!"

To G.o.d mother went, From home it was rent; Asleep the child fell 'Neath tears' troublous spell.

But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender; The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splendor.

It grew with the years, Till gone were the tears; Asleep the child fell, While thoughts cast their spell.

But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping, The thoughts took and whispered: "Have peace now, while sleeping!"

THE MAIDEN ON THE Sh.o.r.e

She wandered so young on the sh.o.r.e around, Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound.

Soon came there a painter, his art he plied Above the tide, In shadow wide,-- He painted the sh.o.r.e and herself beside.

More slowly she wandered near him around, Her thoughts by a single thing were bound.

And this was his picture wherein he drew Herself so true, Herself so true, Reflected in ocean with heaven's blue.

All driven and drawn far and wide around Her thoughts now by everything were bound.

Far over the ocean,--and yet most dear The sh.o.r.e right here, The man so near, Did ever the suns.h.i.+ne so bright appear!

SECRET LOVE

He gloomily sat by the wall, As gaily she danced with them all.

Her laughter's light spell On every one fell; His heartstrings were near unto rending, But this there was none comprehending.

She fled from the house, when at eve He came there to take his last leave.

To hide her she crept, She wept and she wept; Her life-hope was shattered past mending, But this there was none comprehending.

Long years dragged but heavily o'er, And then he came back there once more.

--Her lot was the best, In peace and at rest; Her thought was of him at life's ending, But this there was none comprehending.

OLAF TRYGVASON (See Note 10)

Broad the sails o'er the North Sea go; High on deck in the morning glow Erling Skjalgsson from Sole Scans all the sea toward Denmark: "Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"

Six and fifty the s.h.i.+ps are there, Sails are let down, toward Denmark stare Sun-reddened men;--then murmur: "Where is the great Long Serpent?

Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"

When the sun in the second dawn Cloudward rising no mast had drawn, Grew to a storm their clamor: "Where is the great Long Serpent?

Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?"

Silent, silent that moment bound, Stood they all; for from ocean's ground Sighed round the fleet a m.u.f.fled: "Taken the great Long Serpent, Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."

Ever since, through so many a year, Norway's s.h.i.+ps must beside them hear, Clearest in nights of moons.h.i.+ne: "Taken the great Long Serpent, Fallen is Olaf Trygvason."

A SIGH

Evening suns.h.i.+ne never Solace to my window bears, Morning suns.h.i.+ne elsewhere fares;-- Here are shadows ever.

Suns.h.i.+ne freely falling, Wilt thou not my chamber find?

Here some rays would reach a mind, 'Mid the dark appalling.

Morning suns.h.i.+ne's gladness, Oh, thou art my childhood bright; While _thou_ playest pure and white, _I_ would weep in sadness.

Evening suns.h.i.+ne's whiling, Oh, thou art the wise man's rest;-- Farther on! Then from the west Greet my window smiling!

Morning suns.h.i.+ne's singing, Oh, thou art the fantasy That the sun-glad world lifts free, Past my powers' winging.

Evening suns.h.i.+ne's quiet, Thou art more than wisdom's rest, Christian faith glows in thee blest: Calm my soul's wild riot!

TO A G.o.dSON (1861) (With an alb.u.m containing portraits of all those who at the time of his birth were leaders in the intellectual and political world.)

Here hast thou before thee that constellation Whereunder was born thy light; These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation Will fas.h.i.+on thy life with might.

Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know, They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.

Thou first shalt them gather, Then choose thine own,-- So canst thou the rather Grope on alone.

BERGLIOT (See Note 11) (Harald Haardraade's saga, towards the end of Chapter 45, reads thus: When Einar Tambarskelve's wife Bergliot, who had remained behind in her lodgings in the town, learned of the death of her husband and of her sort, she went straight to the royal residence, where the armed force of peasants was, and eagerly urged them to fight. But in that very moment the King (Harald) rowed out along the river. Then said Bergliot: "Now miss we here my kinsman, Haakon Ivarson; never should Einar's murderer row out along the river, if Haakon stood here on the river-bank.")

(In her lodgings)

To-day King Harald Must hold his ting-peace; For Einar has here Five hundred peasants.

Our son Eindride Safeguards his father, Who goes in fearless The King defying.

Thus maybe Harald, Mindful that Einar Has crowned in Norway Two men with kings.h.i.+p,

Will grant that peace be, On law well grounded; This was his promise, His people's longing.--

What rolling sand-waves Swirl up the roadway!

What noise is nearing!

Look forth, my footboy!