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the complete poetical works-第91节

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The spears that the foemen fling;

  And the stones they hurl with their hands。



In the midst of the stones and the spears;

Kolbiorn; the marshal; appears;

His shield in the air he uprears;

  By the side of King Olaf he stands。



Over the slippery wreck

Of the Long Serpent's deck

Sweeps Eric with hardly a check;

  His lips with anger are pale;



He hews with his axe at the mast;

Till it falls; with the sails overcast;

Like a snow…covered pine in the vast

  Dim forests of Orkadale。



Seeking King Olaf then;

He rushes aft with his men;

As a hunter into the den

  Of the bear; when he stands at bay。



〃Remember Jarl Hakon!〃 he cries;

When lo! on his wondering eyes;

Two kingly figures arise;

  Two Olaf's in warlike array!



Then Kolbiorn speaks in the ear

Of King Olaf a word of cheer;

In a whisper that none may hear;

  With a smile on his tremulous lip;



Two shields raised high in the air;

Two flashes of golden hair;

Two scarlet meteors' glare;

  And both have leaped from the ship。



Earl Eric's men in the boats

Seize Kolbiorn's shield as it floats;

And cry; from their hairy throats;

  〃See! it is Olaf the King!〃



While far on the opposite side

Floats another shield on the tide;

Like a jewel set in the wide

  Sea…current's eddying ring。



There is told a wonderful tale;

How the King stripped off his mail;

Like leaves of the brown sea…kale;

  As he swam beneath the main;



But the young grew old and gray;

And never; by night or by day;

In his kingdom of Norroway

  Was King Olaf seen again!







XXII



THE NUN OF NIDAROS



In the convent of Drontheim;

Alone in her chamber

Knelt Astrid the Abbess;

At midnight; adoring;

Beseeching; entreating

The Virgin and Mother。



She heard in the silence

The voice of one speaking;

Without in the darkness;

In gusts of the night…wind

Now louder; now nearer;

Now lost in the distance。



The voice of a stranger

It seemed as she listened;

Of some one who answered;

Beseeching; imploring;

A cry from afar off

She could not distinguish。



The voice of Saint John;

The beloved disciple;

Who wandered and waited

The Master's appearance。

Alone in the darkness;

Unsheltered and friendless。



〃It is accepted

The angry defiance

The challenge of battle!

It is accepted;

But not with the weapons

Of war that thou wieldest!



〃Cross against corselet;

Love against hatred;

Peace…cry for war…cry!

Patience is powerful;

He that o'ercometh

Hath power o'er the nations!



〃As torrents in summer;

Half dried in their channels;

Suddenly rise; though the

Sky is still cloudless;

For rain has been falling

Far off at their fountains;



So hearts that are fainting

Grow full to o'ertlowing;

And they that behold it

Marvel; and know not

That God at their fountains

Far off has been raining!



〃Stronger than steel

Is the sword of the Spirit;

Swifter than arrows

The light of the truth is;

Greater than anger

Is love; and subdueth!



〃Thou art a phantom;

A shape of the sea…mist;

A shape of the brumal

Rain; and the darkness

Fearful and formless;

Day dawns and thou art not!



〃The dawn is not distant;

Nor is the night starless;

Love is eternal!

God is still God; and

His faith shall not fail us

Christ is eternal!〃









INTERLUDE



A strain of music closed the tale;

A low; monotonous; funeral wail;

That with its cadence; wild and sweet;

Made the long Saga more complete。



〃Thank God;〃 the Theologian said;

〃The reign of violence is dead;

Or dying surely from the world;

While Love triumphant reigns instead;

And in a brighter sky o'erhead

His blessed banners are unfurled。

And most of all thank God for this:

The war and waste of clashing creeds

Now end in words; and not in deeds;

And no one suffers loss; or bleeds;

For thoughts that men call heresies。



〃I stand without here in the porch;

I hear the bell's melodious din;

I hear the organ peal within;

I hear the prayer; with words that scorch

Like sparks from an inverted torch;

I hear the sermon upon sin;

With threatenings of the last account。

And all; translated in the air;

Reach me but as our dear Lord's Prayer;

And as the Sermon on the Mount。



〃Must it be Calvin; and not Christ?

Must it be Athanasian creeds;

Or holy water; books; and beads?

Must struggling souls remain content

With councils and decrees of Trend?

And can it be enough for these

The Christian Church the year embalms

With evergreens and boughs of palms;

And fills the air with litanies?



〃I know that yonder Pharisee

Thanks God that he is not like me;

In my humiliation dressed;

I only stand and beat my breast;

And pray for human charity。



〃Not to one church alone; but seven;

The voice prophetic spake from heaven;

And unto each the promise came;

Diversified; but still the same;

For him that overcometh are

The new name written on the stone;

The raiment white; the crown; the throne;

And I will give him the Morning Star!



〃Ah! to how many Faith has been

No evidence of things unseen;

But a dim shadow; that recasts

The creed of the Phantasiasts;

For whom no Man of Sorrows died;

For whom the Tragedy Divine

Was but a symbol and a sign;

And Christ a phantom crucified!



〃For others a diviner creed

Is living in the life they lead。

The passing of their beautiful feet

Blesses the pavement of the street

And all their looks and words repeat

Old Fuller's saying; wise and sweet;

Not as a vulture; but a dove;

The Holy Ghost came from above。



〃And this brings back to me a tale

So sad the hearer well may quail;

And question if such things can be;

Yet in the chronicles of Spain

Down the dark pages runs this stain;

And naught can wash them white again;

So fearful is the tragedy。〃







THE THEOLOGIAN'S TALE



TORQUEMADA



In the heroic days when Ferdinand

And Isabella ruled the Spanish land;

And Torquemada; with his subtle brain;

Ruled them; as Grand Inquisitor of Spain;

In a great castle near Valladolid;

Moated and high and by fair woodlands hid;

There dwelt as from the chronicles we learn;

An old Hidalgo proud and taciturn;

Whose name has perished; with his towers of stone;

And all his actions save this one alone;

This one; so terrible; perhaps 't were best

If it; too; were forgotten with the rest;

Unless; perchance; our eyes can see therein

The martyrdom triumphant o'er the sin;

A double picture; with its gloom and glow;

The splendor overhead; the death below。



This sombre man counted each day as lost

On which his feet no sacred threshold crossed;

And when he chanced the passing Host to meet;

He knelt and prayed devoutly in the street;

Oft he confessed; and with each mutinous thought;

As with wild beasts at Ephesus; he fought。

In deep contrition scourged himself in Lent;

Walked in processions; with his head down bent;

At plays of Corpus Christi oft was seen;

And on Palm Sunday bore his bough of green。

His sole diversion was to hunt the boar

Through tangled thickets of the forest hoar;

Or with his jingling mules to hurry down

To some grand bull…fight in the neighboring town;

Or in the crowd with lighted taper stand;

When Jews were burned; or banished from the land。

Then stirred within him a tumultuous joy;

The demon whose delight is to destroy

Shook him; and shouted with a trumpet tone;

Kill! kill! and let the Lord find out his own!〃



And now; in that old castle in the wood;

His daughters; in the dawn of womanhood;

Returning from their convent school; had made

Resplendent with their bloom the forest shade;

Reminding him of their dead mother's face;

When first she came into that gloomy place;

A memory in his heart as dim and sweet

As moonlight in a solitary street;

Where the same rays; that lift the sea; are thrown

Lovely but powerless upon walls of stone。

These two fair daughters of a mother dead

Were all the dream had left him as it fled。

A joy at first; and then a growing care;

As if a voice within him cried; 〃Beware

A vague presentiment of impending doom;

Like ghostly footsteps in a vacant room;

Haunted him day and night; a formless fear

That death to some one of his house was near;

With dark surmises of a hidden crime;

Made life itself a death before its time。

Jealous; suspicious; with no sense of shame;

A spy upon his daughters he became;

With velvet slippers; noiseless on the floors;

He glided softly through half…open doors;

Now in the room; and now upon the stair;

He stood beside them ere they were aware;

He listened in the passage when they talked;

He watched them from the casement when they walked;

He saw the gypsy haunt the river's side;

He saw the monk among the cork…trees glide;

And; tortured by the mystery an

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