GISLI:
THE CHIEFTAIN.
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To
the Goddess Lada prayed
Gisli, holding high his
spear
Bound with buds of spring, and laughed
All his heart to Lada’s
ear.
Damp his yellow beard with mead,
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Loud
the harps clang’d thro the day;
With bruised breasts triumphant rode
Gisli’s galleys in
the bay.
Bards sang in the banquet hall,
Set in loud verse Gisli’s
fame,
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On
their lips the war gods laid
Fire to chaunt their warrior’s
name. [Page 136]
To the Love-queen Gisli pray’d,
Buds upon his tall spear’s
tip;
Laughter in his broad blue eyes,
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Laughter
on his bearded lip.
To the Spring-queen Gisli pray’d,
She, with mystic distaff
slim,
Spun her hours of love and leaves,
Made the stony headlands
dim—
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Dim and green with tender grass,
Blew on ice-fields with
red mouth;
Blew on lovers hearts; and lured
White swans from the blue-arched
south.
To the Love-queen Gisli pray’d,
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Groan’d
far icebergs tall and blue
As to Lada’s distaff slim,
All their ice locked fires
flew.
To the love-queen Gisli prayed,
She, with red hands, caught
and spun
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Yellow
flames from crater lips,
Love flames from the waking
sun.
To the Love-queen Gisli prayed,
She with loom and beam and
spell,
All the subtle fires of earth
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Wove,
and wove them strong and well.
To the Spring-queen Gisli prayed,
Low the sun the pale sky
trod;
Mute her ruddy hand she raised
Beckon’d back the
parting God. [Page 137]
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To the Love-queen Gisli prayed—
Weft and woof of flame she
wove—
Lada, Goddess of Spring!
Lada, Goddess strong of
Love!
Sire of the strong chieftain’s prayer,
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Victory
with his pulse of flame;
Mead its mother—loud he laughed,
Calling on great Lada’s
name
“Goddess Lada—Queen of Love!
“Here stand I and
quaff to thee—
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“Deck
for thee with buds my spear—
“Give a comely wife
to me!
“Blow not to my arms a flake
“O crisp snow in maiden
guise;
“Mists of pallid hair and tips
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“Of
long ice spears in her eyes!
“When my death-sail skims the foam—
“Strain my oars on
Death’s black sea—
“When my foot the “Glass-Hill”
seeks—
“Such a maid may do
for me!
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“Now, O Lada, mate the flesh!
“Mate the fire and
flame of life,
“Tho’ the soul go still unwed,
“Give the flesh its
fitting wife!
“As the galley runs between,
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“Skies
with billows closely spun;
“Feeling but the wave that leaps
“Closest to it in
the sun” [Page 138]
“Throbs but to the present kiss
“Of the wild lips
of the sea;
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Thus
a man joys in his life—
Nought of the Beyond knows
he!
“Goddess! here I cast bright buds,
“Spicy pine boughs
at thy feet;
“Give the flesh its fitting mate
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“Life
is strong and life is sweet!
To the Love-queen Gisli pray’d—
Weft and woof of flame she
wove:
Lada, Goddess of the Spring—
Lada, Goddess strong of
Love!
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PART II.
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From
harpings and sagas and mirth of the town,
Great Gisli, the chieftain strode merrily down.
His ruddy beard stretch’d in the loom of the
wind,
His shade like a dusky-God striding behind.
Gylfag, his true hound, to his heel glided near,
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Sharp-fang’d,
lank and red as a blood-rusted spear.
As crests of the green bergs flame white in the
sky,
The town on its sharp hill shone brightly and high.
In fiords roared the ice below the dumb stroke
Of the Sun’s red hammer rose blue mist like
smoke. [Page 139]
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It clung to the black pines, and clung to the bay—
The galleys of Gisli grew ghosts of the day.
It followed the sharp wings of swans, as they rose—
It fell to the wide jaws of swift riven floes.
It tam’d the wild shriek of the eagle—grew
dull
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The
cries, in its foldings, of osprey and gull.
“Arouse thee, bold wind,” shouted Gisli
“and drive
“Floe and Berg out to sea as bees from a hive.
“Chase this woman-lipped haze at top of thy
speed,
“It cloys to the soul as the tongue cloys
with mead!
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“Come, buckle thy sharp spear again to thy
breast!
“Thy galley hurl forth from the seas of the
West.
“With thy long, hissing oars, beat loud the
north sea.
“The sharp gaze of day give the eagles and
me.
“No cunning mists shrouding the sea and the
sky,
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“Or
the brows of the great Gods, bold wind, love I!
“As Gylfag, my hound, lays his fangs in the
flank
“Of a grey wolf, shadowy, leather-thew’d,
lank.
“Bold wind, chase the blue mist, thy prow
in its hair,
“Sun, speed thy keen shafts thro’ the
breast of the air!
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PART III.
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The
shouting of Gisli, the chieftain,
Rock’d the blue hazes, and cloven [Page
140]
In twain by sharp prow of the west wind,
To north and to south fled the thick mist.
As in burnish’d walls of Valhalla,
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In
cleft of the mist stood the chieftain,
And up to the blue shield of Heaven,
Flung the loud shaft of his laughter.
Smote the mist, with shrill spear the swift wind,
Grey shapes fled like ghosts on the Hell way;
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Bay’d
after their long locks hoarse Gylfag,
Stared at them, triumphant, the eagles.
To mate and to eaglets, the eagle
Shriek’d, “Gone is my foe of the deep
mist,
“Rent by the vast hands of the kind Gods,
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“Who
knows the knife-pangs of our hunger!”
Shrill whistled the winds as his dun wings
Strove with it feather by feather;
Loud grated the rock as his talons
Its breast spurned slowly his red eyes.
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Like fires seemed to flame in the swift wind,
At his sides the darts of his hunger—
At his ears the shriek of his eaglet—
In his breast the love of the quarry.
Unfurl’d to the northward and southward
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His
wings broke the air, and to eastward
His breast gave its iron; and God-ward
Pierc’d the shrill voice of his hunger. [Page
141]
Bared were his great sides as he laboured
Up the first steep blue of the broad sky;
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His
gaze on the fields of his freedom,
To the God’s spoke the prayers of his gyres.
Bared were his vast sides as he glided
Black in the sharp blue of the north sky;
Black over the white of the tall cliffs,
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| Black
over the arrow of Gisli. |
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THE SONG OF THE ARROW.
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What
know I,
As I bite the blue veins of the throbbing sky;
To the quarry’s breast,
Hot from the sides of the sleek smooth nest? |
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What know I
Of the will of the tense bow from which I fly!
What the need or jest,
That feathers my flight to its bloody rest.
What know I |
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Of
the will of the bow that speeds me on high?
What doth the shrill bow
Of the hand on its singing soul-string know?
Flame-swift speed I—
And the dove and the eagle shriek out and die;
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Whence
comes my sharp zest
For the heart of the quarry? the Gods know best.
[Page 142]
Deep pierc’d the red gaze of the eagle—
The breast of a cyguet below him;
Beneath his dun wing from the westward
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Shrill-chaunted
the long shaft of Gisli!
Beneath his dun wing from the westward
Shook a shaft that laugh’d in its biting—
Met in the fierce breast of the eagle
The arrows of Gisli and Brynhild!
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PART IV.
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A
ghost along the Hell-way sped,
The Hell-shoes shod his misty tread;
A phantom hound beside him sped.
Beneath the spandrils of the Way,
World’s roll’d to-night—from night
to day;
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In
space’s ocean Suns were spray.
Group’d world’s, eternal eagles, flew;
Swift comets fell like noiseless dew,
Young earths slow budded in the blue.
The waves of space inscrutable,
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With
awful pulses rose and fell—
Silent and godly—terrible.
Electric souls of strong Suns laid,
Strong hands along the awful shade
That God about His God-work made. [Page
143]
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Ever from all ripe worlds did break,
Men’s voices, as when children speak,
Eager and querulous and weak.
And pierc’d to the All-worker thro’
His will that veil’d Him from the view
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“What
hast thou done? What dost thou do?
And ever from His heart did flow
Majestical, the answer low—
The benison “Ye shall not know!
The wan ghost on the Hell-way sped,
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Nor
yet Valhalla’s lights were shed
Upon the white brow of the Dead.
Nor sang within his ears the roll
Of trumpets calling to his soul;
Nor shone wide portals of the goal.
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His spear grew heavy on his breast,
Dropp’d, like a star his golden crest;
Far, far the vast Halls of the Blest!
His heart grown faint, his feet grown weak,
He scal’d the knit mists of a peak,
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That
ever parted grey and bleak.
And, as by unseen talons nipp’d,
To deep Abysses slowly slipp’d;
Then, swift as thick smoke strongly ripp’d.
By whirling winds from ashy ring,
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Of
dank weeds blackly smoldering,
The peak sprang upward a quivering [Page
144]
And perdurable, set its face
Against the pulsing breast of space
But for a moment to its base.
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Refluent roll’d the crest new sprung,
In clouds with ghastly lightnings stung,—
Faint thunders to their black feet clung.
His faithful hound ran at his heel—
His thighs and breast were bright with steel—
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He
saw the awful Hellway reel.
But far along its bleak peaks rang
A distant trump—its airy clang
Like light through deathly shadows sprang.
He knew the blast—the voice of love!
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Cleft
lay the throbbing peak above
Sail’d light, wing’d like a silver dove.
On strove the toiling ghost, his soul
Stirr’d like strong mead in wassail bowl,
That quivers to the shout of “Skoal!”
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Strode from the mist close-curv’d and cold
As is a writhing dragon’s fold;
A warrior with shield of gold.
A sharp blade glitter’d at his hip,
Flamed like a star his lance’s tip;
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His
bugle sang at bearded lip.
Beneath his golden sandels flew
Stars from the mist as grass flings dew;
Or red fruit falls from the dark yew. [Page
145]
As under shelt’ring wreaths of snow
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The
dark blue north flowers richly blow—
Beneath long locks of silver glow. Clear
eyes, that burning on a host
Would win a field at sunset lost,
Ere stars from Odin’s hand were toss’d.
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He stretch’d his hand, he bowed his head;
The wan ghost to his bosom sped—
Dead kiss’d the bearded lips of Dead!
“What
dost thou here, my youngest born?
“Thou—scarce yet fronted with life’s
storm—
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“Why
art thou from the dark earth torn?
“When high Valhalla puls’d and rang
“With harps that shook as grey bards sang—
“’Mid the loud joy I heard the clang.
“Of
Death’s dark doors—to me alone
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“Smote
in thy awful dying groan—
My soul recall’d its blood and bone.
“Viewless
the cord which draws from far
“To the round sun some mighty star;
Viewless the strong-knit soul-cords are!”
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“I
felt thy dying gasp—thy soul
“Towards mine a kindred wave in roll,
“I left the harps—I left the bowl.”
“I
sought the Hellway—I—the blest;
“That thou, new death-born son should rest
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| Upon
the strong rock of my breast. [Page
146]
What
dost thou here, young, fair and bold?
“Sleek with youth’s gloss thy locks
of gold;
Thy years by flow’rs might yet be told!
“What
dost thou at the ghostly goal,
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“While
yet thy years were to thy soul,
“As mead yet shallow in the bowl?”
His
arm about the pale ghost cast,
The warrior blew a clear, loud blast;
Like frighten’d wolves the mists fled past.
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Grew firm the way; worlds flame to light
The awful peak that thrusts its height,
With swift throbs upward, like a flight.
Of
arrows from a host close set
Long meteors pierc’d its breast of jet—
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| Again
the trump his strong lips met— And
at its blast blew all the day,
In broad winds on the awful Way;
Sun smote at Sun across the grey;
As
reindeer smite the high-pil’d snow |
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To
find the green moss far below—
They struck the mists thro’ which did glow
Bright
vales—and on a sea afar,
Lay at a sunlit harbour bar,
A galley gold-sail’d like a star! |
290 |
Spake the pale ghost as onward sped
Heart-press’d to heart the valiant dead;
Soft the green paths beneath their tread.
[Page
147]
“I
lov’d, this is my tale, and died—
“The fierce chief hunger’d for my
bride—
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| “The
spear of Gisli pierc’d my side! “And
she—her love fill’d all my need—
Her vows were sweet and strong as mead;
Look, father—doth my heart still bleed?
“I
built her round with shaft and spear, |
300 |
I
kept her mine for one brief year—
She laugh’d above my blood stain’d bier!
“Upon
a far and ice-peak’d coast
My galleys by long winds were toss’d—
There Gisli feasted with his host. |
305 |
“Of warriors triumphant—he
Strode out from harps and revelry;
And sped his shaft above the sea!
“Look,
father, doth my heart bleed yet?
His arrow Brynhild’s arrow met—
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| My
gallies anchor’d in their rest. “Again
their arrows meet—swift lies
That pierc’d me from their smiling eyes;
How fiercely hard a man’s heart dies!
“She
false—he false! There came a day |
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Pierc’d
by the fierce chief’s spear I lay—
My ghost rose shrieking from its clay. I
saw on Brynhild’s golden vest
The shining locks of Gisli rest;
I sought the Hell-way to the Blest. [Page
148] |
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“Father, put forh thy hand and tear
Their twin shafts from my heart, all bare
To thee—they rankle death-like there!
——
Said
the voice of Evil to the ear of Good,
“Clasp thou my strong,
right hand,
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“Nor
shall our clasp be known or understood
“By any in the land.”
“I, the dark giant, rule strongly on the earth,
“Yet thou, bright
one, and I
“Sprang from the one great mystery—at
one birth
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“We looked upon the
sky!
“I labour at my bleak, my stern toil accurs’d
“Of all mankind—nor
stay,
To rest, to murmur “I hunger” or “I
thirst!”
Nor for my joy delay.
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“My strength pleads strongly with thee; doth
any beat
With hammer and with stone
Past tools to use them to his deep defeat—
To turn them on his throne?
“Then I of God the mystery—toil thou
with me
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Brother;
but in the sight
Of men who know not, I, the stern son shall be
Of Darkness—Thou of
Light!” [Page 149]
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