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And I, the last, go forth companionless,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds." 18. And slowly answered Arthur from the barge :
"The old order chāngeth, yielding place to new,
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 19. But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou seëst—if indeed I go
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.” 20. So said he, and the barge with oar and sail
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan,
"SPEAK speak! thou fearful “Far in the Northern Land,
Who, with thy hollow breast
Comèst to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshlèss palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?"
2. Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies
Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber.
3. “I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skåld in song has told,
No Sāga 3 taught thee ! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse;
For this I sought thee.
By the wild Baltic's strand,
Tamed the ger-falcon;'
Fled like a shădów;
With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled,
By our stern orders.
| The author says : “ The follow- as a work of their early ancestors. ing ballad was suggested to me This is an admirable exercise in while riding on the sea-shore at Monotone, see p. 67. Newport. A year or two previous a * Skăld, an ancient Scandinavian skeleton had been dug up at Fallbard or poet; a reciter and singer of River, clad in broken and corroded heroic poems, eulogies, etc., among armor; and the idea occurred to me the Norsemen. of connecting it with the Round * Sā' ga, a Scandinavian legend Tower at Newport, generally known or story handed down among the hitherto as the Old Wind Mill, Norsemen and kindred people. though now claimed by the Danes • Ger-falcon, (jér få kn).
So the loud laugh of scorn, “Many a wassail-bout'
Out of those lips unshörn,
Blew the foam lightly.
“She was a Prince's child, Draining the oaken pail,
I but a Viking wild,
And though sheblushed and smiled,
I was discarded ! 8.
Should not the dove so white "Once as I told in glee
Follow the sea-mew's flight, Tales of the stormy sea,
Why did they leave that night
Her nest unguarded ?
13. On the dark Norway pine,
“Scarce had I put to sea, On that dark heart of mine Bearing the maid with me, Fell their soft splendor.
Fairest of all was she 9.
Among the Norsemen !“I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
When on the white sea-strand, Yielding, yệt half afraid,
Waving his armèd hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,
With twenty horsemen.
14. Fluttered her little breast,
" Then launched they to the blast, Like birds within their nest Bent like a reed each mast, By the hawk frighted. Yět we were gaining fast, 10.
When the wind failed us; “Bright in her father's hall
And with a sudden flaw Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Came round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw
Laugh as he hailed us.
15. I asked his daughter's hand,
“And as to catch the gale Mute did the minstrels stand
Round veered the flapping sail,
Death! was the helmsman's hail 11.
Death without quarter!
Through the black water! 1 Wassail-bout, (wos' sil-bout), a drinking-bout; a contest or set-to at wassail, a kind of liquor used on festive occasions.
With his prey laden,
17. " Three weeks we westward bõre, And when the storm was õ'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore
Stretching to lee-ward;
She was a mother;
Death closed her mild blue eyes,
The sun-light hateful!
My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Sköal! to the Northland ! sköal !1 -Thus the tale ended.
H. W. LONGFELLOW.
140. SCENES FROM PICKWICK.
Pickwick's apartments in Goswell street, although on
a limited scale, were not only of a věry neat and comfortable description, but peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius and observation. His sătting-room was the first floor front, his bed-room was the second floor front; and thus, whether he was sitting at his desk in the parlor,
the parlor, or standing before the dressing-glass in his dormitory, he had an equal
Skõal, in Scandanavia this is the the word is slightly changed, in customary salutation when drink- order to preserve the correct proing a health. The orthography of nunciation.
opportunity of contemplating human nature in all the numerous phases it exhibits, in that not more populous than popular thoroughfare.
2. His landlady, Mrs. Bardell—the relict and sole executrix of a deceased custom-house officer-was a comely (kım'lý) woman of bustling manners and agreeable appearance, with a natural genius for cooking, improved by study and long practice into an ex'quisite talent. There were no children, no servants, no fowls. The only other inmates of the house were a large man and a small boy ; the first a lodger, the second a production of Mrs. Bardell’s. The large man was always at home precisely at ten o'clock at night, at which hour he regularly condensed himself into the limits of a dwarfish French bedstead in the back parlor ; and the infantine sports and gymnastic exercises of Master Bardell were exclusively confined to the neighboring pavements and gutters. Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the house, and in it Mr. Pickwick's will was law.
3. To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic economy of the establishment, and con'versant with the admirable regulation of Mr. Pickwick’s mind, his appearance and behavior, on the morning previous to that which had been fixed upon for the journey to Eatansvill, would have been most mysterious and unaccountable. He paced the room to and fro with hŭrried steps, popped his head out of the window at intervals of about three minutes each, constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many other manifestations of impatience, věry unusual with him. It was evident that something of great importance was in contemplation ; but what that something was, not even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to discover.
4. “Mrs. Bardell,” said Mr. Pickwick, at last, as that amiable female approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apartment. “Sir,” said Mrs. Bardell. “Your little boy is a very long time gone.” “Why, it's a good long way to the Borough, sir,” remonstrated Mrs. Bardell. “Ah,” said Mr. Pickwick, “věry true; so it is.” Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed her dusting.
5. Mrs. Bardell,” said Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few minutes. “Sir,” said Mrs. Bardell again. “Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people, than to keep