The youth uplifted then his sparkling eye, And said, whilst gazing on the moon-lit sky, "Once, my dear mother, at the close of day, Among tall flowers in the grove I lay, Soft sang the linnets from a thousand trees, And, sweetly lull'd, I slumber'd by degrees.
Then, heaven's curtain was, methought, undrawn, And, clad in hues that deck the brow of morn, An angel slowly sank towards the earth, Which seem'd to hail him with a smile of mirth.
"He rais'd his hand, and bade me fix my eye Upon a chain which, hanging from the sky, Embrac'd the world; and, stretching high and low, Clink'd, as it mov'd, the notes of joy and wo:
The links that came in sight were purpled o'er Full frequently with what seem'd human gore;
Of various metals made, it clasp'd the mould, -
Steel clung to silver, iron clung to gold.
"Then said the angel, with majestic air, -
'The chain of destiny thou seest there.
Accept whate'er it gives, and murmur not;
For hard necessity has cast each lot.'
He vanish'd--I awoke with sudden start, But that strange dream was graven on my heart.
I go wherever fate shall please to call, -
Without God's leave, no fly to earth can fall."
It thunders--and from midnight's mirky cloud, Comes peal on peal reverberating loud:
The froth-clad breakers cast, with sullen roar, A Scottish bark upon the whiten'd shore.
Straight to the royal palace hasten then A lovely maid and thirty sea-worn men.
Minona, Scotland's princess, Scotland's boast, The storm has driven to the Danish coast.
Oft, while the train hew timber in the groves, Minona, arm in arm, with Harrald roves.
Warm from his lip the words of passion flow;
Pure in her eyes the flames of passion glow.
One summer eve, upon a mossy bank, Mouth join'd to mouth, and breast to breast, they sank:
The moon arose in haste to see their love, And wild birds carroll'd from the boughs above.
But now the ship, which seem'd of late a wreck, Floats with a mast set proudly on her deck.
Minona kisses Harrald's blooming face, Whilst he attends her to the parting place.
His bold young heart beats high against his side -
She sail'd away--and, like one petrified, Full long he stood upon the shore, to view The smooth keel slipping through the waters blue.
Months pass, and Sigrid's sorrow disappears;
The wild death-raven's might no more she fears;
A gentle red bedecks her cheek again, And briny drops her eye no longer stain.
"My Harrald stalks in manly size and strength;
Swart bird of darkness, I rejoice at length;
If thy curst claw could hurt my gallant son, Long, long, ere this, the deed would have been done."
But Harrald look'd so moody and forlorn, And thus his mother he address'd one morn:
"Minona's face is equall'd by her mind;
Methinks she calls me from her hills of wind?
Give me a ship with men and gold at need, And let me to her father's kingdom speed;
I'll soon return, and back across the tide Bring thee a daughter, and myself a bride."
Dame Sigrid promis'd him an answer soon, And went that night, when risen was the moon, Deep through the black recesses of the wood, To where old Bruno's shelter'd cabin stood.
She enter'd--there he sat behind his board, His woollen vestment girded by a cord;
The little lamp, which hung from overhead, Gleam'd on the Bible-leaves before him spread.
"Hail to thee, Father!--man of hoary age, Thy Queen demands from thee thy counsel sage.
Young Harrald to a distant land will go, And I his destiny would gladly know:
Thou read'st the stars,--O do the stars portend That he shall come to an untimely end?
Take from his mother's heart this one last care, And she will always name thee in her pray'r."
The hermit, rising from his lonely nook, With naked head, and coldly placid look, Went out and gaz'd intently on the sky, Whose lights were letters to his ancient eye.
"The stars," said he, "in friendly order stand, One only, flashes like an angry brand:-
Thy Harrald, gentle Queen, will not be slain Upon the EARTH, nor yet upon the MAIN."
While thus the seer prophetically spoke, A flush of joy o'er Sigrid's features broke:
"He'll not be slain on ocean or on land,"
She said, and kiss'd the hermit's wrinkled hand;
"Why then, I'm happy, and my son is free To mount his bark, and gallop through the sea:
Upon the grey stone he will sit as king, When, in the grave, my bones are mouldering."
The painted galley floats now in the creek -
Flags at her mast, and garlands at her beak;
High on the yard-arm hoisted is the sail, Half spread it flutters in the evening gale.
The night before he goes, young Harrald stray'd Into the wood where first he saw his maid:
Burning impatience fever'd all his blood, He wish'd for wings to bear him o'er the flood.
Then sigh'd the wind among the bushy grounds, Far in the distance rose the yell of hounds:
The flame-wisps, starting from the sedge and grass, Hung, 'mid the vapours, over the morass.
Up to him came a beldame, wildly drest, Bearing a closely-folded feather-vest:
She smil'd upon him with her cheeks so wan, Gave him the robe, and was already gone.
Young Harrald, though astonish'd, has no fears;
The mighty garment in his hand he rears:
Of wond'rous lovely feathers it was made, Which once the roc and ostrich had array'd.
He wishes much to veil in it his form, And speed as rapidly as speeds the storm:
