_Lord Duf._ Did you not wake them, Cornaro?

_Cor._ Alas! my lord, I could not.

Their slumber was so deep, it seemed to me A sleep eternal. Not a sleep of death, But of extatic silence. Such a beam Of joy and happiness I ne'er beheld Shed from the human face.

_The Prioress, a Tragedy._

The Poet's Tale.

Fain would I tell my friends and fellow-sufferers of my translation hence. Of all the joys and ecstacies of that celestial clime, ycleped the land of faery; were it not that one is here whose s.e.x forbids it, and whose gentle nature from such a tale would shrink, as doth the flower before the nipping gale. You all have heard of that celestial form, the white lady? And of that wan and beatific presence there lives in my remembrance some faint image of saintly beauty. But list to me, my friends, and do not smile, far less break forth with loud uncourteous neigh, like war horse in the charge,--vile waste of breath! convulsive, unrestrained. But hear the truth: _It was not she who bore me from this land_,--not she, _the white lady_, as all divined. No, it was a form of flesh, and that flesh too of most rare quality. Fair, witching, plump, rosy and amorous; and of unmarred proportions. Sooth, she who lured me from my rustic home no other was than wandering minstreless, queen to the mightiest harper ever born.

Sole empress of a tuneful wayward choir, thoughtless and giddy. But their music stole my very soul away. What could I do but follow it, to listen and to sing. In that bright train I sought the Scottish court, the n.o.bles' hall, and every motely scene of loud festivity throughout the land. There have I heard and seen such scenes of love, of dalliance, and of mirth, of deep intrigue and violent cruelty, as eye of minstrel hath not witnessed. Yes, I have seen things not to be expressed, at least not here. Therefore I'll change the rule this night pursued, of saying what myself have seen and done. The fairy land in which I sojourned was fair Caledon; and there I had my living minstrel joys in high abundance. But I grieve to say, a fatal brawl placed all of us within the line to which the sword of vengeance extends its dreadful sway. Our group dispersed. The soul of melody was then no more! The sounds of harmony divine were hushed; all scattered on the winds of other lands, and other climes, to charm with wailing numbers. Southward I came, amid the border clans to trust my life, men lawless as myself. They once had saved me when a helpless orphan. Whom could I better trust? And I have found their generosity alone out-done by their own courage. For my adventures, let this sketch suffice. And though not of the fairyland, I will relate a tale, as pure, as wonderful and full of mystery, as if in other worlds I'd learned it. I had it from a simple peasant's mouth, an old grey hind upon the Sidley hills, who vouched its truth. With faltering tongue, and palpitating heart, for love, for life, and all the soul holds dear, I say my tale.

O be my soul rapt to the estimate at which I hold the prize, and the divine and holy narrative.

Once on a time, in that sweet northern land called Otholine, the heathen Hongar landed, and o'er-ran city and dale. The rampart and the flood in vain withstood his might. Even to the base of the unconquered Grampians did he wend with fire and sword; and all who would not kneel, and sacrifice to his strange northern G.o.ds, he tortured to the death. Some few renounced the cross, for sordid life, and dread of unheard torments. Men were roasted; matrons impaled; and pure virginity was given up to the rude soldiery to be abused, or humbled as they termed it. Then were they decked with flowers and ornaments, led forth in pairs unto the horrid shrine, and sacrificed to Odin.

At that time there lived three beauteous sisters of the line of mighty kings. They were so pa.s.sing fair, that all who saw them wondered, and all who wondered loved. Hongar and Hubba, these two heathen brothers, and princes of the Danes, heard of their fame, their beauty, and their excellencies of nature, and sent to seize them in their father's tower, that in the heights of Stormonth stood secure. The castle was surprised, the virgins seized, and carried to the camp. There to their dreadful trial were they brought, and bid to curse the sacred name they feared and worshipped; to renounce the holy cross, and worship Odin, or give up their bodies to shame, to ignominy, and to death on Odin's hideous altar. Marley and Morna both kneeled and intreated, begged a little time to ponder on the dread alternative. But the young sprightly Lena, fairest she of Albyn's virgins, browed the invader's threat with dauntless eye: That eye whose liquid smile in love's sweet converse had been formed to beam.

"Thou savage heathen!" cried she, "dost thou think to intimidate the royal maids of Caledon to thy most barbarous faith? Tyrant, thou art deceived. I dare thine ire. Thou may'st torment me; for I'm in thine hands, and thy heart ne'er knew pity. Thou may'st tear this tender fragile form with pincing irons. But my soul's purity thou never shall subdue by threat, by engine, or by flame. Thee and thy G.o.d I scorn--I curse you both. I lean upon the rock that will not yield; and put my trust in one whose mighty arm can crush thee mid thy idol to an atom. I know he'll save me. He will save us all, if we but trust him without sinful dread. Here, underneath his bleeding cross, I kneel, and cast myself and my poor sisters here, upon his mercy. Here I make a vow to stand for him, and for his sacred truth, and for no other.

Now, thou ruthless savage, here I defy thee. Do thy worst to us, and thou shalt see if Jesus or if Odin shall prevail, and who can best preserve their worshippers.

The heathen brothers smiled; and Hongar said, "How wildly sweet the little Christian looks! I make my choice to humble and prepare her for the base slaves of Odin's warlike halls. Go warriors, lock them up in donjon deep, until the hour of midnight, when the rites of Odin shall begin. Then will we send and bring them to the test; and all shall see whose G.o.d is most in might, and who must yield.

In prison dark the virgins were immured, with sevenfold gates and sevenfold bars shut in. Soon as they were alone, the sisters twain, Marley and Morna, in fond tears embraced their youngest sister, lauded her high soul, and vowed with her to stand, with her to die, unsullied in the faith they had been taught.

Then did they kneel on the cold dungeon floor, and one by one offered their fervent prayers at mercy's footstool. But chiefly were their vows made to the Holy Virgin; for they hoped that she would save their pure virginity from sin's pollution. Never did prayers ascend up to heaven with greater fervency. And as the hour of midnight on them drew, they kneeled; and, side by side, with lifted hands, and eyes turned toward heaven, sang aloud this holy simple hymn to their Redeemer.

HYMN TO THE REDEEMER.

SON of the Virgin, hear us! hear us!

Son of the living G.o.d, be near us!

Thou who art man in form and feature, Yet G.o.d of glory, and G.o.d of nature.

Thou who led'st the star of the East, Yet helpless lay at a Virgin's breast; Slept in the manger, and cried on the knee, Yet rulest o'er Time and Eternity.

Pity thy creatures here kneeling in dust; Pity the beings in Thee that trust!

Thou who fed'st the hungry with bread, And raised'st from the grave the mouldering dead; Who walked'st on the waves of the rolling main, Who cried'st to thy Father, and cried'st in vain; Yet wept for the woes and the sins of man, And prayed'st for them when thy life-blood ran; With thy last breath who cried'st FORGIVE!

When bleeding and dying, that man might live!

Over death and the grave hast the victory won, And now art enthroned by the stars and the sun.

For thy name's glory, hear us, and come, And show thy power over idols dumb.

O leave the abodes of glory and bliss, The realms of heavenly happiness; Come swifter than the gale of even On thy lightning's wing, the chariot of heaven; By the gates of light and the glowing sphere, O come on thy errand of mercy here!

But Lord of glory we know not thee, We know not what we say; We cannot from thy presence be, Nor from thine eye away: For though on the right hand of G.o.d, Thou art here in this dark and drear abode: Beyond the moon and the starry way Thou holdest thy Almighty sway, Where spirits in floods of light are swimming, And angels round thy throne are hymning; Yet present with all who call on thee In this world of wo and adversity.

Then, O, thou Son of the Virgin, hear us!

G.o.d of love and of life be near us!

Our hour of trial is at hand, And without thy aid how shall we stand?

Our stains wash out, our sins forgive; And before thee may our spirits live.

For thee and thy truth be our bosoms steeled: O be our help, our stay, our shield: Show thy dread power for mercy's sake, For thy name, and thy glory, and all is at stake; Bow down thy heavens, and rend them asunder, And come in the cloud, in the flame, or the thunder.

The trumpets now were sounding, while the host arose from wine and wa.s.sail, to prepare the baleful sacrifice of Christian souls. The virgins heard, and trembled as they kneeled; and beauteous Lena raised her slender hands, and prayed, with many tears, that the Almighty would stretch out his right hand and close their eyes in everlasting sleep, to save them from self-slaughter, or the fate they dreaded more.

While yet the words were but in utterance, and ere the vow was vowed, they heard the gates unbarred one after one, and saw the lights glance through the lurid gloom. Each youthful heart turned, as it were, to stone; for well they weened the Danish soldiers came to bring them forth to shame and death. They kept their humble posture, with hands and eyes upraised, for they expected no pity or compa.s.sion save from heaven.

The inmost door upon its hinges turned, like thunder out of tune; and, lo! there entered,--no heathen soldier,--but a radiant form covered with light as with a flowing robe. In his right hand he bore a golden rod, and in his left a lamp that shone as bright as the noon-day sun.

A thousand thousand gems, from off his raiment, cast their dazzling l.u.s.tre. Diamonds and rubies formed alternate stars, while all between was rayed and spangled o'er with ever-varying brightness. Round his head he wore a wreath of emeralds; these were set with never-fading green. They deemed he was the great high priest of Odin come to lead them to the sacrifice. But yet his look, so mild and so benign, raised half a hope within their b.r.e.a.s.t.s of pity and regard. They were about to plead; but ere a sound breathed from their lips, the stranger beckoned them to silence. Then, in mild and courteous strain, in their own tongue, he thus accosted them:

"To ONE already have your vows been framed; and would you bow to another? You have pleaded to heaven's high King; and would you plead to man? Rise up, and follow me." The virgins rose; they had not power to stay,--and followed him, alas! they knew not whither. They had no voice to question or complain. Door after door they pa.s.sed; gate after gate; and still their guide touching them with his golden rod, they closed in jangling fury. Onward still they moved, and met the heathen bands, led by their chiefs, Hongar and Hubba. They were drunk with wine; and loudly did they halloo when they saw their prey escaped, and walking on the street all beauteous and serene: Closing around the fugitives, and jabbering uncouth terms and words obscene, the chiefs opened their arms to seize the helpless three. Just then their guide turned round unmoved, and waving his bright rod, the heathens staggered, uttered mumbling sounds, and, trying vainly to support themselves, reeling they sunk enfeebled to the earth, where all as still and motionless they lay as piles of lifeless corpses. How the virgins wondered at what they saw! and fearless now they followed their bright leader. Next they met the priests of Odin, in their wild attire, marching in grand procession to the scene of mighty sacrifice.

Aloft they bore their hideous giant idol; by his sides his loathsome consort and his monster son, Freya and Thor, while all their followers sung this choral hymn in loud and warlike strains:

HYMN TO ODIN.

I.

HE comes! he comes!

Great Odin comes!

Who can rise or stand before him?

The G.o.d of the b.l.o.o.d.y field, The sword, and the ruddy shield; The G.o.d of the Danes, let all adore him.

II.

Wake the glad measure to The G.o.ddess of pleasure too, Who fills every hero with joy and with love!

And hail to dread Thor, Great son of great sire, The quaffer of gore, And the dweller in fire: The G.o.d of the sun, and the lightnings above.

III.

Prepare! prepare!

The feast prepare, Since mighty Thor our guest shall be: Three times three, And three times three, This day shall bleed for repast to thee!

IV.

Strike the light, Make the flame burn bright, Since Freya is here who gives delight!

Three times three, And nine times nine, This day shall bleed on altar of thine.

V.

Shout and sing, Till the mountains ring!

The father of men, and of G.o.ds the king!

See him advance With sword and lance; Billows of life-blood, heroes, bring!

VI.

G.o.d of Alhallah's dome!

G.o.d of the warrior's home!

Who can withstand thee in earth or heaven?

Bring to his altar then, Of Christian dames and men, Nine times nine, and seven times seven.

VII.

Bend to your place of birth, Children of sordid earth; The G.o.d of battles your homage disdains.

Who dare oppose him?

Christian or Moslem?

Who is like Odin, the G.o.d of the Danes?