File:Ballads and lyrics (1880) (14781785115).jpg

Identifier: balladslyrics02lodg (find matches)
Title: Ballads and lyrics
Year: 1880 (1880s)
Authors: Lodge, Henry C., (from old catalog) comp
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, Houghton, Mifflin & Co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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ightly. ** She was a Princes child,I but a Viking wild,And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded!Should not the dove so whiteFollow the sea-mews flight,Why did they leave that nightHer nest unguarded?14 210 BALLADS AND LYRICS. * Scarce had I put to sea,Bearing the maid with me,Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen !When on the white sea-strand,Waving his arm^d hand,Saw we old Hildebrand,AVith twenty horsemen. * Then launched they to the blast,Bent like a reed each mast,Yet we were gaining fast. When the wind failed us ;And with a sudden flawCame round the gusty Skaw,So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. * And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail,Death ! was the helmsmans hail, Death without quarter !Mid-ships with iron keelStruck we her ribs of steel ;Down her black hulk did reel Throuorh the black water ! As with his wings aslant,Sails the fierce cormorant,Seeking some rocky haunt. With his prey laden,So toward the open main,Beating to sea again, 1
Text Appearing After Image:
•In tiie vast forest here,Clad in mv warlike gear. See p. 211. THE SKELETON IN ARMOR. 211 (j Through the wild hurricane,Bore I the maiden. * Three weeks we westward bore,And when the storm was oer,Cloudlike we saw the shore Stretching to lee-ward ;There for my ladys bowerBuilt I the lofty tower,Which, to this very hour. Stands looking sea-ward. * There lived we many years ;Time dried the maidens tears ;She had forgot her fears. She was a mother ;Death closed her mild blue eyes,Under that tower she lies ;Neer shall the sun arise On such another ! Still grew my bosom then,Still as a stao^nant fen !Hateful to me were men. The sun-light hateful !In the vast forest here.Clad in my warlike gear,Fell I upon my spear, O, death was grateful! Thus, seamed with many scars,Bursting these prison bars,Up to its native stars My soul ascended !There from the flowingr bowl 212 BALLADS AND LYRICS. Deep drinks the warriors soul,Skoal! to the Northland ! skoal! Thus the tale ended.^Henry Wads worth Lon

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