It may be so,-but this is selfish sorrow
To ask such meed,-

A weakness and a wickedness to borrow,
From hearts that bleed,

The wailings of to-day, for what to-morrow
Shall never need.

Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling,
Thou gentle heart;

And though thy bosom should with grief be swelling,
Let no tear start;

It were in vain,-for Time hath long been knelling,— Sad one, depart!

MOURNFULLY! O, mournfully

This midnight wind doth sigh,
Like some sweet, plaintive melody

Of ages long gone by!

It speaks a tale of other years,—
Of hopes that bloomed to die,—
Of sunny smiles that set in tears,
And loves that mouldering lie!

Mournfully! O, mournfully,

This midnight wind doth moan!

It stirs some chord of memory

In each dull, heavy tone:

The voices of the much-loved dead

Seem floating thereupon,

All, all my fond heart cherished
Ere death had made it lone.

Mournfully! O, mournfully

This midnight wind doth swell,

With its quaint, pensive minstrelsy,
Hope's passionate farewell

To the dreamy joys of early years,

Ere yet grief's canker fell

On the heart's bloom,-aye! well may tears!

Start at that parting knell!

THE WOOLLE SOLE OF JARL EGILL SKALLAGRIM.

BRIGHT maiden of Orkney, star of the blue sea!
I've swept o'er the waters to gaze upon thee;
I've left spoil and slaughter, I've left a far strand,
To sing how I love thee, to kiss thy small hand!

Fair daughter of Einar, golden-haired maid!

The lord of yon brown bark, and lord of this blade,— The joy of the ocean, of warfare and wind,

Hath borne him to woo thee, and thou must be kind. So stoutly Jarl Egill wooed Torf Einar's daughter.

In Jutland, in Iceland, on Neustria's shore,
Where'er the dark billow my gallant bark bore,
Songs spoke of thy beauty, harps sounded thy praise,
And my heart loved thee long ere it thrilled in thy gaze⚫
Aye, daughter of Einar, right tall mayst thou stand;
It is a Vikingir who kisses thy hand;

It is a Vikingir that bends his proud knee,

And swears by Great Freya his bride thou must be! So Jarl Egill swore when his great heart was fullest.

Thy white arms are locked in broad bracelets of gold;
Thy girdle-stead's gleaming with treasures untold;
The circlet that binds up thy long, yellow hair,
Is starred thick with jewels, that bright are and rare;

But gifts yet more princely Jarl Egill bestows:
For girdle, his great arm around thee he throws;
The bark of a sea-king, for palace, gives he,

While mad waves and winds shall thy true subjects be. So richly Jarl Egill endowed his bright bride.

Nay, frown not, nor shrink thus, nor toss so thy head, 'T is a Vikingir asks thee, Land-maiden, to wed!

He skills not to woo thee, in trembling and fear, Though lords of the land may thus troop with the deer. The cradle he rocked in so sound and so long, Hath framed him a heart and a hand that are strong: He comes then as Jarl should, sword belted to side, To win thee and wear thee with glory and pride. So sternly Jarl Egill wooed, and smote his long brand.

Thy father, thy brethren, thy kin, keep from me The maiden I've sworn shall be Queen of the sea! A truce with that folly,-yon sea-strand can show If this eye missed its aim, or this arm failed its blow: I had not well taken three strides on this land, Ere a Jarl and his six sons in death bit the sand. Nay, weep not, pale maid, though in battle should fall The kemps who would keep thy bridegroom from the hall. So carped Jarl Egill, and kissed the bright weeper.

Through shadows and horrors, in worlds underground, Through sounds that appall and through sights that con found,

I sought the Weird women within their dark cell,
And made them surrender futurity's spell;

I made them run over the dim scroll so free,

And mutter how fate sped with lovers like me;
Yes, maiden, I forced them to read forth my doom,
To say how I should fare as jolly bridegroom.

So Jarl Egill's love dared the world of grim shadows.

They waxed and they waned, they passed to and fro, While lurid fires gleamed o'er their faces of snow; Their stony eyes, moveless, did glare on me long, Then sullen they chanted: "The Sword and the Song Prevail with the gentle, sore chasten the rude, And sway to their purpose each evil-shaped mood!" Fair daughter of Einar, I've sung the dark lay That the Weird sisters runed, and which thou must obey. So fondly Jarl Egill loved Einar's proud daughter.

The curl of that proud lip, the flash of that eye,
The swell of that bosom, so full and so high,
Like foam of sea-billow, thy white bosom shows,
Like flash of red levin thine eagle eye glows:
Ha! firmly and boldly, so stately and free,
Thy foot treads this chamber, as bark rides the sea:
This likes me,-this likes me, stout maiden of mould,
Thou wooest to purpose; bold hearts love the bold.
So shouted Jarl Egill, and clutched the proud maiden.

Away and away then, I have thy small hand;
Joy with me, -our tall bark now bears toward the strand;

I call it the Raven, the wing of black night,
That shadows forth ruin o'er islands of light;
Once more on its long deck, behind us the gale,
Thou shalt see how before it great kingdoms do quail;
Thou shalt see then how truly, my noble-souled maid,
The ransom of kings can be won by this blade.
So bravely Jarl Egill did soothe the pale trembler.