Forty-Two Poems | Page 9

have no word to say: my helm's unbound,
My breastplate by
the axe unriveted:
Blood's on my eyes; I hear a spreading sound,

Like waves or wolves that clamour in my head.
"Eater of men, old raven, come this way,
And with thine iron bill
open my breast:
To-morrow find us where we lie to-day,
And bear
my heart to her that I love best.
"Through Upsala, where drink the Jarls and sing,
And clash their
golden bowls in company,
Bird of the moor, carry on tireless wing

To Ylmer's daughter there the heart of me.
"And thou shalt see her standing straight and pale,
High pedestalled
on some rook-haunted tower:
She has two earrings, silver and vermeil,

And eyes like stars that shine in sunset hour.

"Tell her my love, thou dark bird ominous;
Give her my heart, no
bloodless heart and vile
But red compact and strong, O raven. Thus

Shall Ylmer's daughter greet thee with a smile.
"Now let my life from twenty deep wounds flow,
And wolves may
drink the blood. My time is done.
Young, brave and spotless, I rejoice
to go
And sit where all the Gods are, in the sun."
THE BALLAD OF THE STUDENT IN THE SOUTH
It was no sooner than this morn
That first I found you there,
Deep in a field of southern corn
As golden as your hair.
I had read books you had not read,
Yet I was put to shame
To hear the simple words you said,
And see your eyes aflame.
Shall I forget when prying dawn
Sends me about my way,
The careless stars, the quiet lawn,
And you with whom I lay?
Your's is the beauty of the moon,
The wisdom of the sea,
Since first you tasted, sweet and soon,
Of God's forbidden tree.
Darling, a scholar's fancies sink
So faint beneath your song;
And you are right, why should we think,

We who are young and strong?
For we are simple, you and I,
We do what others do,
Linger and toil and laugh and die
And love the whole night through.
THE QUEEN'S SONG
Had I the power
To Midas given of old
To touch a flower
And leave the petals gold
I then might touch thy face,
Delightful boy,
And leave a metal grace,
A graven joy.
Thus would I slay, -
Ah, desperate device!
The vital day
That trembles in thine eyes,
And let the red lips close
Which sang so well,
And drive away the rose
To leave a shell.
Then I myself,
Rising austere and dumb
On the hight shelf
Of my half-lighted room,
Would place the shining bust
And wait alone,
Until I was but dust,

Buried unknown.
Thus in my love
For nations yet unborn,
I would remove
From our two lives the morn,
And muse on loveliness
In mine armchair,
Content should Time confess
How sweet you were.
LORD ARNALDOS
Quien hubiese tal ventura?
The strangest of adventures,
That happen by the sea,
Befell to Lord
Arnaldos
On the Evening of St. John;
For he was out a hunting -

A huntsman bold was he! -
When he beheld a little ship
And close
to land was she.
Her cords were all of silver,
Her sails of cramasy;

And he who sailed the little ship
Was singing at the helm;
The
waves stood still to hear him,
The wind was soft and low;
The fish
who dwell in darkness
Ascended through the sea,
And all the birds
in heaven
Flew down to his mast-tree.
Then spake the Lord
Arnaldos,
(Well shall you hear his words!)
"Tell me for God's sake,
sailor,
What song may that song be?"
The sailor spake in answer,

And answer thus made he; -
"I only tell my song to those
Who sail
away with me."
WE THAT WERE FRIENDS
We that were friends to-night have found
A sudden fear, a secret
flame:
I am on fire with that soft sound
You make, in uttering my
name.
Forgive a young and boastful man
Whom dreams delight and
passions please,
And love me as great women can
Who have no
children at their knees.

MY FRIEND
I had a friend who battled for the truth
With stubborn heart and
obstinate despair,
Till all his beauty left him, and his youth,
And
there were few to love him anywhere.
Then would he wander out among the graves,
And think of dead men
lying in a row;
Or, standing on a cliff observe the waves,
And hear
the wistful sound of winds below;
And yet they told him nothing. So he sought
The twittering forest at
the break of day,
Or on fantastic mountains shaped a thought
As
lofty and impenitent as they.
And next he went in wonder through a town
Slowly by day and
hurriedly by night,
And watched men walking up the street and down

With timorous and terrible delight.
Weary, he drew man's wisdom from a book,
And pondered on the
high words spoken of old,
Pacing a lamplit room: but soon forsook

The golden sentences that left him cold.
After, a woman found him, and his head
Lay on her breast, till he
forgot his pain
In gentle kisses on a midnight bed,
And welcomed
royal-winged joy again.
When love became a loathing, as it must,
He knew