"Your child the Spectre ship hath seen!

Ere set to-morrow's sun,

No trace will rest where we have been,
Our mortal course be run."

Before the morrow's sun went down,
There was nor trace nor mark,

To show where o'er the sea had gone
That strong and gallant bark.

No shatter'd spars, no riven mast,
Were floating o'er the waves:
None knew when those from life had past,

Who slept in wat'ry graves.

Yet all she bore across the waves

Had passed from human sight,

With none to weep above their graves,

Or read the funeral rite.

ELLEN PICKERING. From Bentley's Ballads.

DEATH OF THE OLD NORSE KING.

HASTE, clothe me, jarls, in my royal robe;
My keen biting sword gird ye.

Haste! for I go to the Fatherland,
Both King of Earth and Sea.

My blade so true with a spirit gleam-
Death lurks in its shrinking fire-
I grasp thee now as of olden time

In conflict hot and dire.

I've trampled foes; from their blanchéd skulls Now drain off the dark red wine

e;

Fall bravely all in the battle-field,
Be crowned with wreaths divine!

My eyes wax dim, and my once jet locks

Now wave with a silvery white;

Feeble, my arm cannot wield the blade
I dote on with delight.

Grim Hela breathes a chilling shade,
I hear the Valkyrii sing;

Now to the halls of the brave I'd rise,

As fits an old Norse king.

Hemidallar's ship, with the incense wood,

Prepare as a pyre for me ;

Blazing, I'll rise to the Odin halls,
At once in the air and sea!

They've lit slow fire in the incense ship;
The sun has just sunk in the wave;
Set are the sails, he is launched away,

This hero king so brave!

The death-chaunt floats in the deep blue skies,

All wild in the darkling night;

Fearful their glares from the blazing ship

A wild red lurid light.

It shimmering gleams o'er the lone blue sea,
The flickers shoot wild and high-

Odin hath welcomed the brave old king
To his palace in the sky!

The bale-flames die, and a silence deep

Now floats on the darkness cold,

Where so fearless and free, on the deep blue sea,

Had died this Norse king bold.

THE SEA-KING'S BURIAL.

I As his henchman served,

Well I of him deserved,

Never in danger swerved,

Never in fear.

So, the old vow once made,

I to the word obeyed,

When my lord undismayed,

Knew death was near.

Oft he said, "Never rest

Shall visit valiant breast

In narrow coffin pressed,

Swathed in a shroud.

Launch me some stormy night,

Clad brave in harness bright,

Swifter than eagle's flight,

Winds piping loud.”

So, when I, watching him,

Saw the eyes glazing dim,—

Felt stiffen ev'ry limb,

Bore I him forth.

A. J. S.

Sparkled bright myriad stars-
Clear through his helmet bars

Shone on his ancient scars

Lights of the North.

Nigh to our home did float

Waiting that fatal boat,

Truly my breast I smote.

Thus, all alone,

That I should launch my king

Forth to go wandering :-
Would not each billow bring

His dying moan?

But I the vow had sworn,-
I, in his household born;
Were I not worthy scorn,

Now did I shrink?

So then I laid him soft

On the deck trod so oft,

While keen and cold aloft

Did the stars blink.

Pushed I the boat from shore,
With the great freight it bore,-

Pushed it-I could no more,

Traitor and craven

Watched the white sails of snow

Forth in the midnight go,

Watched, flapping to and fro,

The mystic raven.

Sudden the tempest grew,

Icy the north-wind blew,

As those were glad that knew

Who sailed that night.

Shall he lack tears enow ?—

Salt tears on breast and brow,

Tears such as well I trow

Then dimmed my sight!

Watched I the dusky bark
Fade o'er the waters dark;
Long I it black did mark,

White crests between.

Wild winds were sobbing sad,
Wild waves were leaping mad,

Wild voices shrieking glad

Of the unseen!

Why did I leave my lord ?—
I, who at bed and board,
True as his trusty sword,

Ever till then

Bided him close beside—

Why should e'en death divide

One he had loved and tried

Most of all men ?

Ah! Hilda's eyes of blue

Had pierced me through and through,-

Sweet cheeks of pearly hue,

Soft locks of gold!