VIII. ARGUMENT…

VIII. ARGUMENT

Lancelot continues to watch for Arthur till the eve of the following day, when a Damsel approaches the Lake--Lancelot's discreet behaviour thereon, and how the Knight and the Damsel converse--The Damsel tells her tale--Upon her leaving Lancelot, the fairy ring commands the Knight to desert his watch, and follow the Maiden--The story returns to Arthur, who, wandering by the sea-shore, perceives a bark with the Raven flag of the sea-kings--The Dove enjoins him to enter it--The Ship is deserted, and he waits the return of the Crew--Sleep falls upon him--The consoling Vision of AEgle--What befalls Arthur on waking--Meanwhile Sir Gawaine pursues his voyage to the shrine of Freya, at which he is to be sacrificed--How the Hound came to bear him company--Sir Gawaine argues with the Viking on the inutility of roasting him--The Viking defends that measure upon philosophical and liberal principles, and silences Gawaine--The Ship arrives at its destination--Gawaine is conducted to the shrine of Freya--The Statue of the Goddess described--Gawaine's remarks thereon, and how he is refuted and enlightened by the Chief Priest--Sir Gawaine is bound, and in reply to his natural curiosity the Priest explains how he and the Dog are to be roasted and devoured--The sagacious proceedings of the Dog--Sir Gawaine fails in teaching the Dog the duty of Fraternization--The Priest re-enters, and Sir Gawaine, with much satisfaction, gets the best of the Argument--Concluding Stanzas to Nature.

Lone by the lake reclined young Lancelot-- 1 Night pass'd, the noonday slept on wave and plain; Lone by the lake watch'd patient Lancelot; Like Faith assured that Love returns again. Noon glided on to eve; when from the brake Brushed a light step, and paused beside the lake.

How lovely to the margin of the wave 2 The shy-eyed Virgin came! and, all unwitting The unseen Knight, to the frank sunbeam gave Her sunny hair--its snooded braids unknitting; And, fearless, as the Naiad by her well, Sleeked the loose tresses, glittering where they fell.

And, playful now, the sandal silks unbound, 3 Oft from the cool fresh wave with coy retreat Shrinking,--and glancing with arch looks around, The crystal gleameth with her ivory feet, Like floating swan-plumes, or the leaves that quiver From water-lilies, under Himera's river.

Ah happy Knight, unscath'd, such charms espying, 4 As brought but death to the profane of yore, When Dian's maids to angry quivers flying Pierced the bold heart presuming to adore! Alas! the careless archer they disdain, Can slay as surely, though with longer pain.

But worthy of his bliss, the loyal Knight, 5 Pure from all felon thoughts as Knights should be, Revering, anger'd at his own delight, The lone, unconscious, guardless modesty, Rose, yet unseen, and to the copse hard by, Stole with quick footstep and averted eye.

But as one tremour of the summer boughs 6 Scares the shy fawn, so with that faintest sound The Virgin starts, and back from rosy brows Flings wide the showering gold; and all around Casts the swift trouble of her looks, to see The white plume glisten through the rustling tree.

As by some conscious instinct of the fear 7 He caused, the Knight turns back his reverent gaze; And in soft accents, tuned to Lady's ear In gentle courts, her purposed flight delays; So nobly timid in his look and tone As if the power to harm were all her own.

"Lady and liege, O fly not thus thy slave; 8 If he offend, unwilling the offence, For safer not upon the unsullying wave Doth thy pure image rest, than Innocence On the clear thoughts of noble men!" He said; And low, with downcast lids, replied the maid.

[Oh, from those lips how strangely musical 9 Sounds the loathed language of the Saxon foe!] "Though on mine ear the Cymrian accents fall, And in my speech, O Cymrian, thou wilt know The Daughter of the Saxon; marvel not, That less I fear thee in this lonely spot

"Than hadst thou spoken in my mother-tongue, 10 Or worn the aspect of my father-race." Here to her eyes some tearful memory sprung, And youth's glad sunshine vanish'd from her face; Like the changed sky, the gleams of April leave, Or the quick coming of an Indian eve.

Moved, yet embolden'd by that mild distress, 11 Near the fair shape the gentle Cymrian drew, Bent o'er the hand his pity dared to press, And soothed the sorrow ere the cause he knew. Frank were those times of trustful Chevisaunce,[1] And hearts when guileless open to a glance.

So see them seated by the haunted lake, 12 She on the grassy bank, her sylvan throne, He at her feet--and out from every brake The Forest-Angels singing:--All alone With Nature and the Beautiful--and Youth Pure in each soul as, in her fountain, Truth!

And thus her tale the Teuton maid begun: 13 "Daughter of Harold, Mercia's Earl, am I. Small need to tell to Knighthood's Christian son What creed of wrath the Saxons sanctify. With songs first chaunted in some thunder-field, Stern nurses rock'd me in my father's shield.

"Motherless both,--my playmate, sole and sweet, 14 Years--sex, the same, was Crida's youngest child, (Crida, the Mercian Ealder-King) our feet Roved the same pastures when the Mead-month[2] smiled; By the same hearth we paled to Saga runes, When wolves descending howl'd to icy moons.

"As side by side, two osiers o'er a stream, 15 When air is still, with separate foliage bend; But let a breezelet blow, and straight they seem With trembling branches into one to blend: So grew our natures,--when in calm, apart; But in each care, commingling, heart to heart.

"Her soul was bright and tranquil as a bird 16 That hangs with silent wing in breathless heaven, The plumes of mine the faintest zephyr stirr'd, Light with each impulse by the moment given; Blithe as the insect of the summer hours, Child of the beam, and playmate of the flowers.

"Thus into youth we grew, when Crida bore 17 Home from fierce wars a British Woman-slave, A lofty captive, who her sorrow wore As Queens a mantle; yet not proud, though grave, And grave as if with pity for the foe, Too high for anger, too resign'd for woe.

"Our hearts grew haunted by that patient face, 18 And much we schemed to soothe the sense of thrall. She learn'd to love us,--let our love replace That she had lost,--and thank'd her God for all, Even for chains and bondage:--awed we heard, And found the secret in the Gospel Word.

"Thus, Cymrian, we were Christians. First, the slave 19 Taught that bright soul whose shadow fell on mine; Thus we were Christians;--but, as through the cave Flow hidden river-springs, the Faith Divine We dared not give to-day--in stealth we sung Hymns to the Cymrian's God, in Cymri's tongue.

"And for our earlier names of heathen sound 20 We did such names as saints have borne receive; One name in truth, though with a varying sound; Genevra I--and she sweet Genevieve,-- Words that escaped from other ears, unknown, But spoke as if from angels to our own.

"Soon with thy creed we learn'd thy race to love, 21 Listening high tales of Arthur's peerless fame, But most such themes did my sweet playmate move; To her the creed endear'd the champion's name, With angel thoughts surrounded Christ's young chief, And gave to Glory haloes from Belief.

"Not long our teacher did survive, to guide 22 Our feet, delighted in the new-found ways; Smiling on us--and on the cross--she died, And vanish'd in her grave our infant days; We grew to woman when we learn'd to grieve, And Childhood left the eyes of Genevieve.

"Oft, ev'n from me, musing she stole away, 23 Where thick the woodland girt the ruin'd hall Of Cymrian kings, forgotten;--through the day Still as the lonely nightingale midst all The joyous choir that drown her murmur:--So Mused Crida's daughter on the Saxon's foe.

"Alas! alas! (sad moons have waned since then!) 24 One fatal morn her forest haunt she sought Nor thence return'd: whether by lawless men Captured, or flying of her own free thought, From heathen shrines abhorr'd;--all search was vain, Ne'er to our eyes that smile brought light again."

Here paused the maid, and tears gush'd forth anew, 25 Ere faltering words rewove the tale once more; "Roused from his woe, the wrathful Crida flew To Thor's dark priests, and Odin's wizard lore. Task'd was each rune that sways the demon hosts, And the strong seid[3] compell'd revealing ghosts.

"And answer'd priest and rune, and the pale Dead, 26 'That in the fate of her, the Thor-descended, The Gods of Cymri wove a mystic thread, With Arthur's life and Cymri's glory blended, And Dragon-Kings, ordain'd in clouded years, To seize the birthright of the Saxon spears.

"'By Arthur's death, and Carduel's towers o'erthrown, 27 Could Thor and Crida yet the web unweave, Protect the Saxon's threaten'd gods;--alone Regain the lost one, and exulting leave To Hengist's race the ocean-girt abodes, Till the Last Twilight[4] darken round the Gods.'

"This heard and this believed, the direful King 28 Convenes his Eorl-born and prepares his powers, Relates the omens, and the tasks they bring, And points the Valkyrs to the Cymrian towers. Dreadest in war--and wisest in the hall, Stands my great Sire--the Saxon's Herman-Saul.[5]

"He to secure allies beyond the sea 29 Departs--but first (for well he loved his child) He drew me to his breast, and tenderly Chiding my tears, he spoke, and speaking smil'd, 'Whate'er betides thy father or thy land, Far from our dangers Astrild[6] woos thy hand.

"'Beorn, the bold son of Sweyn, the Goethland king 30 Whose ocean war-steeds on the Baltic deeps Range their blue pasture--for thy love shall bring As nuptial-gifts, to Cymri's mountain keeps Arm'd men and thunder. Happy is the maid, Whose charms lure armies to her Country's aid

What, while I heard, the terror and the woe, 31 Of one who, vow'd to the meek Christian God, Found the Earth's partner in the Heaven's worst foe! For ne'er o'er blazing altars Slaughter trod Redder with blood of saints remorsely slain, Than Beorn, the Incarnate Fenris[7] of the main.

"Yet than such nuptials more I fear'd the frown 32 Of my dread father;--motionless I stood, Rigid in horror, mutely bending down The eyes that dared not weep.--So Solitude Found me, a thing made soul-less by despair, Till tears broke way, and with the tears flow'd prayer."

Again Genevra paused: and, beautiful 33 As Art hath imaged Faith, look'd up to heaven, With eyes that glistening smiled. Along the lull Of air, waves sigh'd--the winds of stealing Even Murmur'd, birds sung, the leaflet rustling stirr'd; His own loud heart was all the list'ner heard.

"Scarce did my Sire return (his mission done), 34 To loose the Valkyrs on the Cymrian foe, Then came the galley which the sea-king's son Sent for the partner of his realms of snow; Shuddering, recoiling, forth I stole at night, To the wide forest with wild thoughts of flight.

"I reach'd the ruin'd halls wherein so oft 35 Lost Genevieve had mused lone hours away, When halting wistful there, a strange and soft Slumber fell o'er me, or, more sooth to say, A slumber not, but rather on my soul A life-dream clear as hermit-visions stole.

"I saw an aged and majestic form, 36 Robed in the spotless weeds thy Druids wear, I heard a voice deep as when coming storm Sends its first murmur through the heaving air: 'Return,' it said, 'return, and dare the sea, The Eye that sleeps not looks from heaven on thee.'

"The form was gone, the Voice was hush'd, and grief 37 Fled from my heart; I trusted and obey'd: Weak still, my weakness leant on my belief; I saw the sails unfurl, the headlands fade; I saw my father, last upon the strand, Veiling proud sorrow with his iron hand.

"Swift through the ocean clove the flashing prows 38 And half the dreaded course was glided o'er, When, as the wolves, which night and winter rouse In cavernous lairs, from seas without a shore Clouds swept the skies; and the swift hurricane Rush'd from the North along the maddening main.

"Startled from sleep upon the verge of doom, 39 With wild cry, shrilling through the wilder blast, Uprose the seamen, ghostlike through the gloom, Hurrying and helpless; while the sail-less mast Now lightning-wreathed, now indistinct and pale Bow'd, or, rebounding, groan'd against the gale,

"And crash'd at last;--its sullen thunder drown'd 40 In the great storm that snapp'd it. Over all Swept the long surges, and a gurgling sound Told where some wretch, that strove in vain to call For aid, where all were aidless, through the spray Emerging, gasp'd, and then was whirl'd away.

"But I, who ever wore upon my heart 41 The symbol cross of Him who walk'd the seas, Bow'd o'er that sign my head; and pray'd apart: When through the darkness, on his crawling knees, Crept to my side the chief, and crouch'd him there, Mild as an infant, listening to my prayer.

"And, clinging to my robes, 'Thee have I seen,' 42 Faltering he said, 'when round thee coil'd the blue Lightning, and rush'd the billow-swoop, serene And scathless smiling; surely then I knew That, strong in charms or runes that guard and save, Thou mock'st the whirlwind and the roaring grave!

"'Shield us, young Vala, from the wrath of Ran, 43 And calm the raging Helheim of the deep.' As from a voice within, I answer'd, 'Man, Nor rune nor charm locks into mortal sleep The Present God; by Faith all ills are braved; Trust in that God; adore Him, and be saved."

"Then, pliant to my will, the ghastly crew 44 Crept round the cross, amid the howling dark-- Dark, save when swift and sharp, and griding[8] through The cloud-mass, clove the lightning, and the bark Flash'd like a floating hell; low by that sign All knelt, and voices hollow-chimed to mine.

"Thus as we pray'd, lo, open'd all the Heaven, 45 With one long steadfast splendour----calmly o'er The God-Cross resting: then the clouds were riven And the rains fell; the whirlwind hush'd its roar, And the smooth'd billows on the ocean's breast, As on a mother's, sighing, sunk to rest.

"So came the dawn: o'er the new Christian fold, 46 Glad as the Heavenly Shepherd, smiled the sun; Then to those grateful hearts my tale I told, The heathen bonds the Christian maid should shun, And pray'd in turn their aid my soul to save From doom more dismal than a sinless grave.

"They, with one shout, proclaim their law my will, 47 And veer the prow from northern snows afar, Soon gentler winds the murmuring canvas fill, Fair floats the bark where guides the western star. From coast to coast we pass'd, and peaceful sail'd Into lone creeks, by yon blue mountains veil'd.

"Here all wide-scatter'd up the inward land 48 For stores and water, range the blithesome crew; Lured by the smiling shores, one gentler band I join'd awhile, then left them, to pursue Mine own glad fancies, where the brooklet clear Shot singing onwards to the sunlit mere.

"And so we chanced to meet!" She ceased, and bent 49 Down the fresh rose-hues of her eloquent cheek; Ere Lancelot spoke, the startled echo sent Loud shouts reverberate, lengthening, plain to peak; The sounds proclaim the savage followers near, And straight the rose-hues pale,--but not from fear.

Slowly Genevra rose, and her sweet eyes 50 Raised to the Knight's, frankly and mournfully; "Farewell," she said, "the winged moment flies, Who shall say whither?--if this meeting be Our last as first, O Christian warrior, take The Saxon's greeting for the Christian's sake.

"And if, returning to thy perill'd land, 51 In the hot fray thy sword confront my Sire, Strike not--remember me!" On her fair hand The Cymrian seals his lips; wild thoughts inspire Words which the lips may speak not:--but what truth Lies hid when youth reflects its soul in youth!

Reluctant turns Genevra, lingering turns, 52 And up the hill, oft pausing, languid wends. As infant flame through humid fuel burns, In Lancelot's heart with honour, love contends; Longs to pursue, regain, and cry, "Where'er Thou wanderest, lead me; Paradise is there!"

But the lost Arthur!--at that thought, the strength 53 Of duty nerved the loyal sentinel: So by the lake watch'd Lancelot;--at length Upon the ring his looks, in drooping, fell, And see, the hand, no more in dull repose, Points to the path in which Genevra goes!

Amazed, and wrathful at his own delight, 54 He doubts, he hopes, he moves, and still the ring Repeats the sweet command, and bids the Knight Pursue the Maid as if to find the King. Yielding at last, though half remorseful still, The Cymrian follows up the twilight hill.

Meanwhile along the beach of the wide sea, 55 The dove-led pilgrim wander'd,--needful food, The Maenad's fruits from many a purple tree Flush'd for the vintage, gave; with musing mood, Lonely he strays till AEthra[9] sees again Her starry children smiling on the main.

Around him then, curved grew the hollow creek; 56 Before, a ship lay still with lagging sail; A gilded serpent glitter'd from the beak, Along the keel encoil'd with lengthening trail; Black from a brazen staff, with outstretch'd wings Soar'd the dread Raven of the Runic kings.

Here paused the Wanderer, for here flew the Dove 57 To the tall mast, and, murmuring, hover'd o'er; But on the deck no watch, no pilot move, Life-void the vessel as the lonely shore. Far on the sand-beach drawn, a boat he spied, And with strong hand he launch'd it on the tide.

Gaining the bark, still not a human eye 58 Peers through the noiseless solitary shrouds; So, for the crew's return, all patiently He sate him down, and watch'd the phantom clouds Flit to and fro, where o'er the slopes afar Reign storm-girt Arcas,[10] and the Mother Star.

Thus sleep stole o'er him, mercy-hallow'd sleep; 59 His own loved AEgle, lovelier than of old, Oh, lovelier far--shone from the azure deep-- And like the angel dying saints behold, Bent o'er his brow, and with ambrosial kiss Breathed on his soul her own pure spirit-bliss.

"Never more grieve for me," the Vision said, 60 "Behold how beautiful thy bride is now! Who to yon Heaven from heathen Hades led Me, thine Immortal? Mourner, it was thou! Why shouldst thou mourn? In the empyreal clime We know no severance, for we own no time.

"Both in the Past and Future circumfused, 61 We live in each;--all life's more happy hours Bloom back for us;--all prophet Fancy mused Fairest in days to come, alike are ours: With me not yet--I ever am with thee, Thy presence flows through my eternity.

"Think thou hast bless'd the earth, and oped the heaven 62 To her baptized, reborn, through thy dear love,-- In the new buds that bloom for thee, be given The fragrance of the primal flower above! In Heaven we are not jealous!--But in aught That heals remembrance and revives the thought,

"That makes the life more beautiful, we bind 63 Those who survive us in a closer chain; In all that glads we feel ourselves enshrined; In all that loves, our love but lives again." Anew she kiss'd his brow, and at her smile Night and Creation brighten'd! He the while,

Stretch'd his vain arms, and clasp'd the mocking air, 64 And from the rapture woke![11]--All fiercely round Group savage forms, amidst the lurid glare Of lifted torches, red; fierce tongues resound, Discordant, clamouring hoarse--as birds of prey Scared by man's footstep in some desolate bay.

Mild through the throng a bright-hair'd Virgin came, 65 And the roar hush'd;--while to the Virgin's breast Soft-cooing fled the Dove. His own great name Rang through the ranks behind; quick footsteps press'd (As through arm'd lines a warrior) to the spot, And to the King knelt radiant Lancelot.

Here for a while the wild and fickle song 66 Leaves the crown'd Seeker of the Silver Shield; Thy fates, O Gawaine, done to grievous wrong By the black guide perfidious, be reveal'd, Nearing, poor Knight, the Cannibalian shrine, Where Freya scents thee, and prepares to dine.

Left by a bride, and outraged by a raven, 67 One friend still shared the injured captive's lot; For, as the vessel left the Cymrian haven, The faithful hound, whom he had half forgot, Swam to the ship, clomb up the sides on board, Snarl'd at the Danes, and nestled by his lord.

The hirsute Captain, not displeased to see a 68 New bonne bouche added to the destined roast His floating larder had prepared for Freya, Welcomed the dog, as Charon might a ghost; Allow'd the beast to share his master's platter, And daily eyed them both,--and thought them fatter!

Ev'n in such straits, the Knight of golden tongue 69 Confronts his foe with arguings just and sage, Whether in pearls from deeps Druidic strung, Or link'd synthetic from the Stagirite's page, Labouring to show him how absurd the notion, That roasting Gawaine would affect the Ocean.

But that enlighten'd though unlearned man, 70 Posed all the lore Druidical or Attic; "One truth," quoth he, "instructs the Sons of Ran (A seaman race are always democratic), That truth once known, all else is worthless lumber: 'THE GREATEST PLEASURE OF THE GREATEST NUMBER.'

"No pleasure like a Christian roasted slowly, 71 To Odin's greatest number can be given; The will of freemen to the gods is holy; The People's voice must be the voice of Heaven. On selfish principles you chafe at capture, But what are private pangs to public rapture?

"You doubt that giving you as food for Freya 72 Will have much mark'd effect upon the seas; Let's grant you right:--all pleasure's in idea; If thousands think it, you the thousands please. Your private interest must not be the guide, When interests clash majorities decide."

These doctrines, wise, and worthy of the race 73 From whose free notions modern freedom flows, Bore with such force of reasoning on the case, They left the Knight dumbfounded at the close; Foil'd in the weapons which he most had boasted, He felt sound logic proved he should be roasted.

Discreetly waiving farther conversations, 74 He, henceforth, silent lived his little hour; Indulged at times such soothing meditations, As, "Flesh is grass,"--and "Life is but a flower." For men, like swans, have strains most edifying, They never think of till the time for dying.

And now at last, the fatal voyage o'er, 75 Sir Gawaine hears the joyous shout of "Land!" Two Vikings lead him courteously on shore: A crowd as courteous wait him on the strand. Fifes, viols, trumpets braying, screaming, strumming, Flatter his ears, and compliment his coming.

Right on the shore the gracious temple stands, 76 Form'd like a ship, and budded but of log; Thither at once the hospitable bands Lead the grave Knight and unsuspicious dog, Which, greatly pleased to walk on land once more, Swells with unprescient bark the tuneful roar.

Six Priests and one tall Priestess clothed in white, 77 Advance--and meet them at the porch divine; With seven loud shrieks, they pounce upon the Knight,-- Whisk'd by the Priests behind the inmost shrine, While the tall Priestess asks the congregation To come at dawn to witness the oblation.

Though somewhat vex'd at this so brief delay-- 78 Yet as the rites, in truth, required preparing, The flock obedient took themselves away;-- Meanwhile the Knight was on the Idol staring, Not without wonder at the tastes terrestrial Which in that image hail'd a shape celestial.

Full thirty ells in height--the goddess stood 79 Based on a column of the bones of men, Daub'd was her face with clots of human blood, Her jaws as wide as is a tiger's den; With giant fangs as strong and huge as those That cranch the reeds, through which the sea-horse goes.

"Right reverend Sir," quoth he of golden tongue, 80 "A most majestic gentlewoman this! Is it the Freya,[12] whom your scalds have sung, Goddess of love and sweet connubial bliss? If so--despite her very noble carriage, Her charms are scarce what youth desires in marriage."

"Stranger," said one who seem'd the hierarch-priest-- 81 "In that sublime, symbolical creation, The outward image but conveys the least Of Freya's claims on human veneration-- But (thine own heart if Love hath ever glow'd in), Thou'lt own that Love is quite as fierce as Odin!

"Hence, as the cause of full one half our quarrels, 82 Freya with Odin shares the rites of blood;-- In this--thou seest a hidden depth of morals, But by the vulgar little understood;-- We do not roast thee in an idle frolic! But as a type mysterious and symbolic."

The Hierarch motions to the priests around, 83 They bind the victim to the Statue's base, Then, to the Knight they link the wondering hound, Some three yards distant--looking face to face. "One word," said Gawaine--"ere your worships quit us, How is it meant that Freya is to eat us?"

"Stranger," replied the Priest, "albeit we hold 84 Such questions idle, and perhaps profane; Yet much the wise will pardon to the bold-- When what they ask 'tis easy to explain-- Still typing Truth, and shaped with sacred art, We place a furnace in the statue's heart.

"That furnace heated by mechanic laws 85 Which gods to priests for godlike ends permit, We lay the victim bound across the jaws, And let him slowly turn upon a spit; The jaws--(when done to what we think their liking) Close;--all is over:--The effect is striking!"

At that recital, made in tone complacent, 86 The frozen Knight stared speechless and aghast, Stared on those jaws to which he was subjacent, And felt the grinders cranch on their repast. Meanwhile the Priest said--"Keep your spirits up, And ere I go, say when you'd like to sup?"

"Sup!" falter'd out the melancholy Knight, 87 "Sup! pious Sir--no trouble there, I pray! Good though I grant my natural appetite, The thought of Freya's takes it all away: As for the dog--poor, unenlighten'd glutton, Blind to the future,--let him have his mutton."

'Tis night: behold the dog and man alone! 88 The man hath said his thirtieth noster pater, The dog has supp'd, and having pick'd his bone (The meat was salted), feels a wish for water; Puts out in vain a reconnoitring paw, Feels the cord, smells it, and begins to gnaw.

Abash'd Philosophy, that dog survey! 89 Thou call'st on freemen--bah! expand thy scope; "Aide-toi toi-meme, et Dieu t'aidera!" Doth thraldom bind thee?--gnaw thyself the rope.-- Whatever Laws, and Kings, and States may be; Wise men in earnest can be always free.

By a dim lamp upon the altar stone 90 Sir Gawaine mark'd the inventive work canine; "Cords bind us both--the dog has gnaw'd his own; O Dog skoinophagous[13]--a tooth for mine!-- And both may 'scape that too-refining Goddess Who roasts to types what Nature meant for bodies."

Sir Gawaine calls the emancipated hound, 91 And strives to show his own illegal ties; Explaining how free dogs, themselves unbound, With all who would be free should fraternize-- The dog look'd puzzled, lick'd the fetter'd hand, Prick'd up his ears--but would not understand.

The unhappy Knight perceived the hope was o'er, 92 And did again to fate his soul resign; When hark! a footstep, and an opening door, And lo, once more, the Hierarch of the shrine, The dog his growl at Gawaine's whisper ceased, And dog and Knight, both silent, watch'd the priest.

The subtle captive saw with much content 93 No sacred comrades had that reverend man; Beneath a load of sacred charcoal bent, The Priest approach'd; when Gawaine thus began: "It shames me much to see you thus bent double, And feel myself the cause of so much trouble.

"Doth Freya's kitchen, ventrical and holy, 94 Afford no meaner scullion to prepare The festive rites?--on you depends it wholly To heat the oven and to dress the fare?" "To hands less pure are given the outward things, To Hierarchs only, the interior springs,"

Replied the Priest--"and till my task be o'er, 95 All else intruding, wrath divine incur." Sir Gawaine heard and not a sentence more Sir Gawaine said, than--"Up and seize him, Sir," Sprung at the word, the dog; and in a trice Griped the Priest's throat and lock'd it like a vice.

"Pardon, my sacred friend," then quoth the Knight, 96 "You are not strangled from an idle frolic, When bit the biter, you'll confess the bite Is full of sense, mordacious but symbolic; In roasting men, O culinary brother, Learn this grand truth--'one turn deserves another!'"

Extremely pleased, the oratoric Knight 97 Regain'd the vantage he had lost so long, For sore, till then, had been his just despite That Northern wit should foil his golden tongue. Now, in debate how proud was his condition, The opponent posed and by his own position!

Therefore, with more than his habitual breeding, 98 Resumed benignantly the bland Gawaine, While much the Priest, against the dog's proceeding With stifling gasps protested, but in vain-- "Friend--(softly, dog; so--ho!) Thou must confess Our selfish interests bid us coalesce.--

"Unknit these cords; and, once unloosed the knot, 99 I pledge my troth to call the hound away, If thou accede--a show of hands! if not That dog at least I fear must have his day." High in the air, both hands at once appear! "Carried, nem. con.,--Dog, fetch him,--gently, here!"

Not without much persuasion yields the hound! 100 Loosens the throat, to gripe the sacred vest. "Priest," quoth Gawaine, "remember, but a sound, And straight the dog--let fancy sketch the rest!" The Priest, by fancy too dismay'd already, Fumbles the knot with fingers far from steady.

Hoarse, while he fumbles, growls the dog suspicious, 101 Not liking such close contact to his Lord (The best of friends are sometimes too officious, And grudge all help save that themselves afford). His hands set free, the Knight assists the Priest, And, finis, funis, stands at last released.

True to his word--and party coalitions, 102 The Knight then kicks aside the dog, of course; Salutes the foe, and states the new conditions The facts connected with the times enforce; All coalitions nat'rally denote The State-Metempsychosis--change of coat!

"Ergo," quoth Gawaine,--"first, the sacred cloak; 103 Next, when two parties, but concur pro temp. Their joint opinions only should be spoke By that which has most cause to fear the hemp. Wherefore, my friend, this scarf supplies the gag To keep the cat symbolic--in the bag!"

So said, so done, before the Priest was able 104 To prove his counter interest in the case, The Knight had bound him with the victim's cable! Closed up his mouth and cover'd up his face, His sacred robe with hands profane had taken, And left him that which Gawaine had forsaken.

Then Gawaine stepp'd into the blissful air, 105 Oh, the bright wonder of the Northern Night! With Ocean's heart of music heaving there, Under its starry robe!--and all the might Of rock and shore, and islet deluge-riven, Distinctly dark against the lustrous heaven!

Calm lay the large rude Nature of the North, 106 Glad as when first the stars rejoicing sang, And fresh as when from kindling Chaos forth (A thought of God) the young Creation sprang; When man in all the present Father found, And for the Temple, paused and look'd around!

Nature, thou earliest Gospel of the Wise, 107 Thou never-silent Hymner unto God! Thou Angel-Ladder lost amid the skies, Though at the foot we dream upon the sod! To thee the Priesthood of the Lyre belong-- They hear Religion and reply in Song!

If he hath held thy worship undefiled 108 Through all the sins and sorrows of his youth, Let the Man echo what he heard as Child From the far hill-tops of melodious Truth, Leaving on troubled hearts some lingering tone Sweet with the solace thou hast given his own!

NOTES TO BOOK VIII.

1.--Page 332, stanza xi.

Frank were those times of trustful Chevisaunce.

Chevisaunce.--SPENSER.

2.--Page 332, stanza xiv.

Roved the same pastures when the Mead-month smiled.

The MEAD-MONTH, June.

3.--Page 334, stanza xxv.

And the strong seid compell'd revealing ghosts.

Magic.

4.--Page 334, stanza xxvii.

Till the Last Twilight darken round the Gods.

At Ragnaroek, or the Twilight of the Gods, the Aser and the Giants are to destroy each other, and the whole earth is to be consumed.

5.--Page 334, stanza xxviii.

Stands my great Sire--the Saxon's Herman-Saul.

Herman-Saul (or Saule), often corruptly written Irminsula, Armensula, &c., the name of the celebrated Teuton Idol, representing an armed warrior on a column, destroyed by Charlemagne, A.D. 772.

6.--Page 334, stanza xxix.

Far from our dangers Astrild woos thy hand.

Astrild, the Cupid of the Northern Mythology.

7.--Page 334, stanza xxxi.

Than Beorn, the Incarnate Fenris of the main.

Fenris, the Demon Wolf, Son of Asa Lok.

8.--Page 336, stanza xliv.

Dark, save when swift and sharp, and griding through.

Griding.--MILTON. "The griding sword with discontinuous wound," &c.

9.--Page 338, stanza lv.

_Lonely he strays till AEthra sees again Her starry children smiling on the main._

Both the Pleiades and the Hyades are said to be the daughters of AEthra, one of the Oceanides, by Atlas.

10.--Page 338, stanza lviii.

Reign storm-girt Arcas, and the Mother Star.

Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, near the North Pole, supposed by the Poets to be Arcas and his mother.

11.--Page 339, stanza lxiv.

And from the rapture woke!--All fiercely round, &c.

The reader will perhaps perceive, that the above passage, containing the Vision of AEgle, is partially borrowed from the apparition of Clorinda, in TASSO.--Cant. xii.

12.--Page 341, stanza lxxx.

Is it the Freya, whom your scalds have sung.

Freya is the goddess of love, beauty, and Hymen; the Scandinavian Venus.

13.--Page 343, stanza xc.

O Dog skoinophagous--a tooth for mine!--

Id est, "rope-eating"--a compound adjective borrowed from such Greek as Sir Gawaine might have learned at the then flourishing college of Caerleon. The lessons of education naturally recur to us in our troubles.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

IX. ARGUMENT

Invocation to the North--Winter, Labour, and Necessity, as agents of Civilization--The Polar Seas described--The lonely Ship; its Leader and Crew--Honour due from Song to the Discoverer!--The battle with the Walruses--The crash of the floating Icebergs--The ship ice-locked-- Arthur's address to the Norwegian Crew--They abandon the vessel and reach land--The Dove finds the healing herb--Returns to the Ship, which is broken up for log-huts--The winter deepens--The sufferings and torpor of the crew--The effect of Will upon life--Will preserves us from ills our own, not from sympathy with the ills of others--Man in his higher development has a two-fold nature--in his imagination and his feelings--Imagination is lonely, Feeling social--The strange affection between the King and the Dove--The King sets forth to explore the desert; his joy at recognizing the print of human feet--The attack of the Esquimaux--The meeting between Arthur and his friend--The crew are removed to the ice-huts of the Esquimaux--The adventures of Sir Gawaine continued--His imposture in passing himself off as a priest of Freya--He exorcises the winds which the Norwegian hags had tied up in bags--And accompanies the Whalers to the North Seas--The storm--How Gawaine and his hound are saved--He delivers the Pigmies from the Bears, and finally establishes himself in the Settlement of the Esquimaux--Philosophical controversy between Arthur and Gawaine, relative to the Raven--Arthur briefly explains how he came into the Polar Seas in search of the Shield of Thor--Lancelot and Genevra having sailed for Carduel--Gawaine informs Arthur that the Esquimaux have a legend of a Shield guarded by a Dwarf--The first appearance of the Polar Sun above the horizon.

Throned on the dazzling and untrodden height, 1 Form'd of the frost-gems ages[1] labour forth From the blanch'd air,--crown'd with the pomp of light I' the midst of dark,--stern Father of the North, Thee I invoke, as, awed, my steps profane The dumb gates opening on thy death-like reign!

Here did the venturous Ithacan[2] explore, 2 Amidst the dusky, wan, Cimmerian waste, By Ocean's farthest bounds--the spectre shore Trod by the Dead, and vainly here embraced The Phantom Mother. Pause, look round, survey The ghastly realm beyond the shafts of Day.

Magnificent Horror!--How like royal Death 3 Broods thy great hush above the seeds of Life! Under the snow-mass cleaves thine icy breath, And, with the birth of fairy forests rife, Blushes the world of white;[3]--the green that glads The wave, is but the march of myriads;

There, immense, moves uncouth leviathan; 4 There, from the hollows of phantasmal isles, The morse[4] emerging rears the face of man, There, the huge bear scents, miles on desolate miles, The basking seal;--and ocean shallower grows, Where, through its world, a world, the kraken goes.

Father of races, marching at the van 5 Of the great league and armament of Thought;-- When Eastern stars grew dim to drooping man, And waned the antique light Prometheus brought, The North beheld the new Alcides rise, Unbind the Titan and relight the skies.

Imperial WINTER, hail!--All hail with thee 6 Labour, the stern Perfecter of Mankind, Shaping the ends of human destiny Out of the iron of the human mind: For in our toils our fates we may survey! And where rests Labour there begins decay.

Winter, and Labour, and Necessity, 7 Behold the Three that make us what we are! Forced to invent--aspirers to the High, Nerved to endure--the conquerors of the Far-- So the crude nebula in movement hurl'd, Takes form in moving, and becomes a world.

Dumb Universe of Winter--there it lies 8 Dim through the mist, a spectral skeleton! Far in the wan verge of the solid skies Hangs day and night the phantom of a moon; And slowly moving on the horizon's brink Floats the vast ice-field with its glassy blink.[5]

But huge adown the liquid Infinite 9 Drift the sea Andes--by the patient wrath Of the strong waves uprooted from their site In bays forlorn--and on their winter path (Themselves a winter) glide, or heavily, where They freeze the wind, halt in the inert air.

Nor bird nor beast lessens with visible 10 Life, the large awe of space without a sun; Though in each atom life unseen doth dwell And glad with gladness God the Living One. HE breathes--but breathless hang the airs that freeze! HE speaks--but noiseless list the silences!

A lonely ship--lone in the measureless sea, 11 Lone in the channel through the frozen steeps, Like some bold thought launch'd on infinity By early sage--comes glimmering up the deeps! The dull wave, dirge-like, moans beneath the oar; The dull air heaves with wings that glide before.

From earth's warm precincts, through the sunless gate 12 That guards the central vapour-home of Dark, Into the heart of the vast Desolate, Lone flies the Dove before the lonely bark. While the crown'd seeker of the glory-spell Looks to the angel and disdains the hell.

Huddled on deck, one-half that hardy crew 13 Lie shrunk and wither'd in the biting sky, With filmy stare and lips of livid hue, And sapless limbs that stiffen as they lie: While the dire pest-scourge of the frozen zone[6] Rots through the vein, and gnaws the knotted bone.

Yet still the hero-remnant, sires perchance 14 Of Rollo's Norman knighthood, dauntless steer Along the deepening horror and advance Upon the invisible foe, loud chanting clear Some lusty song of Thor, the Hammer-God, When o'er those iron seas the Thunderer trod,

And pierced the halls of Lok! Still while they sung, 15 The sick men lifted dim their languid eyes, And palely smiled, and with convulsive tongue Chimed to the choral chant, in hollow sighs; Living or dying, those proud hearts the same Swell to the danger, and foretaste the fame.

On, ever on, labours the lonely bark, 16 Time in that world seems dead. Nor jocund sun Nor rosy Hesperus dawns; but visible Dark Stands round the ghastly moon. For ever on Labours the lonely bark, through lock'd defiles That crisping coil around the drifting isles.

Honour, thrice honour unto ye, O Brave! 17 And ye, our England's sons, in the later day, Whose valour to the shores of Hela gave Names,--as the guides where suns deny the ray! And, borne by hope and vivid strength of soul, Made Man's last landmark Nature's farthest goal!

Whom, nor the unmoulded chaos, with its birth 18 Of uncouth monsters, nor the fierce disease, Nor horrible famine, nor the Stygian dearth Of Orcus dead'ning adamantine seas, Scared from the Spirit's grand desire,--TO KNOW! The Galileos of new worlds below!

Man the Discoverer--whosoe'er thou art, 19 Honour to thee from all the lyres of song! Honour to him who leads to Nature's heart One footstep nearer! To the Muse belong All who enact what in the song we read; Man's noblest poem is Man's bravest deed.

On, ever on,--when veering to the West 20 Into a broader desert leads the Dove; A larger ripple stirs the ocean's breast, A hazier vapour undulates above; Along the ice-fields move the things that live, Large in the life the misty glamours give.

In flocks the lazy walrus lay around 21 Gazing and stolid; while the dismal crane Stalk'd curious near;--and on the hinder ground Paused indistinct the Fenris of the main, The insatiate bear,--to sniff the stranger blood,-- For Man till then had vanish'd since the flood,

And all of Man were fearless!--On the sea 22 The vast leviathans came up to breathe, With their young giants leaping forth in glee, Or leaving whirlpools where they sank beneath. And round and round the bark the narwal[7] sweeps, With white horn glistening through the sluggish deeps.

Uprose a bold Norwegian, hunger-stung, 23 As near the icy marge a walrus lay, Hurl'd his strong spear, and smote the beast, and sprung Upon the frost-field on the wounded prey;-- Sprung and recoil'd--as writhing with the pangs, The bulk crawl'd towards him with its flashing fangs.

Roused to fell life--around their comrade throng, 24 Snorting wild wrath, the shapeless, grisly swarms-- Like moving mounts slow masses trail along; Aghast the man beholds the larva-forms-- Flies--climbs the bark--the deck is scaled--is won; And all the monstrous march heaves lengthening on.

"Quick to your spears!" the kingly leader cries. 25 Spears flash on flashing tusks; groan the strong planks With the assault: front after front they rise With their bright[8] stare; steel thins in vain their ranks, And dyes with blood their birth-place and their grave; Mass rolls on mass, as rolls on wave a wave.

These strike and rend the reeling sides below; 26 Those grappling clamber up and load the decks, With looks of wrath so human on the foe, They seem to horror like the mangled wrecks Of what were men in worlds before the Ark! Thus raged the immane and monster war--when, hark,

Crash'd through the dreary air a thunder peal! 27 In their slow courses meet two ice-rock isles Clanging; the wide seas far-resounding reel; The toppling ruin rolls in the defiles; The pent tides quicken with the headlong shock: Broad-billowing heave the long waves from the rock;

Far down the booming vales precipitous 28 Plunges the stricken galley,--as a steed Smit by the shaft runs reinless,--o'er the prows Howl the lash'd surges; Man and monster freed By power more awful from the savage fray, Here roaring sink--there dumbly whirl away.

The water runs in maelstroms;--as a reed 29 Spins in an eddy and then skirs along,-- Dragg'd round and round, emerged and vanished The mighty ship amidst the mightier throng Of the revolving hell. With abrupt spring Bounding at last--on it shot maddening.

Behind it, thunderous swept the glacier masses, 30 Shivering and splintering, hurtling each on each: Narrower and narrower press the frowning passes:-- Jamm'd in the farthest gorge the bark may reach, Where the grim Scylla rocks the direful way, The fierce Charybdis flings her mangled prey.

As if a living thing, in every part 31 The vessel groans--and with a dismal chime Cracks to the cracking ice; asunder start The brazen ribs:--and clogg'd and freezing, climb Through cleft and chink, as through their native caves, The gelid armies of the hardening waves.

One sigh whose lofty pity did embrace 32 The vanish'd many, the surviving few, The Cymrian gave--then with a cheering face He spoke, and breathed his soul into the crew: "Ye whom the haught desire of Fame, whose air Is storm, and tales of what your fathers were,

"What time their valour wrought such deeds below 33 As made the valiant lift them to the gods, Impell'd with me to spare all meaner foe, And vanquish'd Nature in the fiend's abodes;-- Droop not nor faint!--Reserved, perchance, to give Themes to such song as bids your Odin live:--

"A voice from those now gone in darkness down, 34 Bids us endure!--Of all they ask'd in life Our death would rob their lofty shades--RENOWN! The wave hath pluck'd us from the monster strife, Lo where the icebay frees us from the wave, And yields a port in what we deem'd a grave!

"Up and at work all hands to lash the bark 35 With grappling-hook, and cord, and iron band To yon firm peak, the Ararat of our ark, Then with good heart pierce to the vapour-land; For the crane's scream, and the bear's welcome roar Tell where the wave joins solid to the shore."

Swift as he spoke, the gallant Northmen sprang 36 On the sharp ice,--drew from the frozen blocks The mangled wreck;--with many a barbed fang And twisted cable to the horrent rocks Moor'd: and then, shouting up the solitude Their guiding star, the Dove's pale wing, pursued.

Round the dim bases of the glacier peaks, 37 They see the silvery Arctic fox at play, Sure sign of land,--aloft with ghastly shrieks, Wheel the wan sea-gulls, luring to his prey The ravening glaucus[9] sudden shooting o'er The din of wings from the gray gleaming shore.

At length they reach the land,--if land that be 38 Which seems so like the frost-piles of the deep, That where commenced the soil and ceased the sea Shows dim, as is the bound between the sleep And waking of some wretch whose palsied brain Dulls him to ev'n the slow return of pain.

Advancing farther, burst upon the eye 39 Patches of green miraculously isled In the white desert. Oh! the rapture cry That greeted God, and gladden'd through the wild! The very sight suffices to restore, Green Earth--green Earth--the Mother smiles once more!

Blithe from the turf the Dove the blessed leaves[10] 40 That heal the slow plague of the sunless dearth Bears to each sufferer whom the curse bereaves Ev'n of all hope, save graves in that dear earth. Woo'd by the kindly King they taste, to know How to each ill God plants a cure below.

Long mused the anxious hero, if to dare 41 Once more the fearful sea--or from the bark Shape ragged huts, and wait, slow-lingering there, Till Eos issuing from the gates of Dark Unlock the main? dread choice on either hand-- The liquid Acheron, or the Stygian land.

At length, resolved to seize the refuge given, 42 Once more he leads the sturdiest of the crew Back to the wreck--the planks, asunder riven, And such scant stores as yet the living few May for new woes sustain, are shoreward borne; And hasty axes shape the homes forlorn.

Now, every chink closed on the deathful air, 43 In the dark cells the weary labourers sleep; Deaf to the fierce roar of the hungering bear, And the dull thunders clanging on the deep-- Till on their waking sense the discords peal, And to the numb hand cleaves unfelt the steel.

What boots long told the tale of life one war 44 With the relentless iron Element? More, day by day, the mounting snows debar Ev'n search for food,--yet oft the human scent Lures the wild beast, which, mangling while it dies, Bursts on the prey, to fall itself the prize!

But as the winter deepens, ev'n the beast 45 Shrinks from its breath, and with the loneliness To Famine leaves the solitary feast. Suffering halts patient in its last excess. Closed in each tireless, lightless, foodless cave Cowers a dumb ghost unconscious of its grave.

Nature hath stricken down in that waste world 46 All--save the Soul of Arthur! That, sublime, Hung on the wings of heavenward faith unfurl'd, O'er the far light of the predicted Time; Believe thou hast a mission to fulfil, And human valour grows a Godhead's will!

Calm to that fate above the moment given 47 Shall thy strong soul divinely dreaming go, Unconscious as an eagle, entering heaven, Where its still shadow skims the rooks below; High beyond this, its actual world is wrought, And its true life is in its sphere of thought.

Yet who can 'scape the infection of the heart? 48 Who, though himself invulnerably steel'd, Can boast a breast indifferent to the dart That threats the life his love in vain would shield? When some large nature, curious, we behold How twofold comes it from the glorious mould!

How lone, and yet how living in the All! 49 When it imagines how aloof from men! How like the ancestral Adam ere the fall, In Eden bowers the painless denizen! But when it feels--the lonely heaven resign'd-- How social moves the man among mankind!

Forth from the tomblike hamlet strays the King, 50 Restless with ills from which himself is free; In that dun air the only living thing He skirts the margin of the soundless sea; No--not alone, the musing Wanderer strays; For still the Dove smiles on the dismal ways.

Nor can tongue tell, nor thought conceive how far 51 Into that storm-beat heart, the gentle bird Had built the halcyon's nest. How precious are In desolate hours, the Affections!--How, unheard Mid Noon's melodious myriads of delight, Thrills the low note that steals the gloom from night!

And, in return, a human love replying 52 To his caress, seem'd in those eyes to dwell, That mellow murmur, like a human sighing, Seem'd from those founts that lie i' the heart to swell. Love wants not speech; from silence speech it builds, Kindness like light speaks in the air it gilds.

That angel guide! His fate while leading on, 53 It follow'd each quick movement of his soul. As the soft shadow from the setting sun Precedes the splendour passing to its goal, Before his path the gentle herald glides, Its life reflected from the life it guides.

Was Arthur sad? how sadden'd seem'd the Dove! 54 Did Arthur hope? how gaily soar'd its wings! Like to that sister spirit left above, The half of ours, which, torn asunder, springs Ever through space, yearning to join once more The earthlier half, its own and Heaven's before;[11]

Like an embodied living Sympathy 55 Which hath no voice and yet replies to all That wakes the lightest smile, the faintest sigh,-- So did the instinct and the mystery thrall To the earth's son the daughter of the air; And pierce his soul--to place the sister there.

She was to him as to the bard his muse 56 The solace of a sweet confessional: The hopes--the fears which manly lips refuse To speak to man, those leaves of thought that fall With every tremulous zephyr from the Tree Of Life, whirl'd from us down the darksome sea;--

Those hourly springs and winters of the heart 57 Weak to reveal to Reason's sober eye, The proudest yet will to the muse impart, And grave in song the record of a sigh. And hath the muse no symbol in the Dove?-- Both give what youth most miss'd in human love!

Over the world of winter strays the King, 58 Seeking some track of hope--some savage prey Which, famish'd, fronts and feeds the famishing; Or some dim outlet in the darkling way From the dumb grave of snows which form with snows Wastes wide as realms through which a spectre goes.

Amazed he halts:--Lo, on the rimy layer 59 That clothes sharp peaks--the print of human feet! An awe thrill'd through him, and thus spoke in prayer, "Thee, God, in man once more then do I greet? Hast thou vouchsafed the brother to the brother, Links which reweave thy children to each other?

"Be they the rudest of the clay divine, 60 Warm with the breath of soul, how faint so ever, Yea, though their race but threat new ills to mine, All hail the bond thy sons cannot dissever! Bow'd to thy will, of life or death dispose, But if not human friends, grant human foes!"

Thus while he pray'd, blithe from his bosom flew 61 The guiding Dove, along the frozen plain Of a mute river, winding vale-like through Rocks lost in vapour from the voiceless main. And as the man pursues, more thickly seen, The foot-prints tell where man before has been.

Sudden a voice--a yell, a whistling dart! 62 Dim through the fog, behold a dwarf-like band (As from the inner earth, its goblins) start; Here threatening rush, there hoarsely gibbering stand! Halts the firm hero; mild but undismay'd, Grasps the charm'd hilt, but will not bare the blade.

And with a kingly gesture eloquent, 63 Seems to command the peace, not shun the fray; Daunted they back recoil, yet not relent; As Indians round the forest lord at bay, Beyond his reach they form the deathful ring, And every shaft is fitted to the string.

When in the circle a grand shape appears, 64 Day's lofty child amid those dwarfs of Night, Ev'n through the hides of beasts (its garb) it rears The glorious aspect of a son of light. Hush'd at that presence was the clamouring crowd; Dropp'd every hand and every knee was bow'd.

Forth stepp'd the man, advancing towards the King; 65 And his own language smote the Cymrian's ear, "What fates, unhappy one, a stranger bring To shores,"--he started, stopp'd,--and bounded near; Gazed on that front august, a moment's space,-- Rush'd,--lock'd the wanderer in a long embrace;

Weeping and laughing in a breath, the cheek, 66 The lip he kiss'd--then kneeling, clasp'd the hand; And gasping, sobbing, sought in vain to speak-- Meanwhile the King the beard-grown visage scann'd: Amazed--he knew his Carduel's comely lord, And the warm heart to heart as warm restored!

Speech came at length: first mindful of the lives, 67 Claiming his care and perill'd for his sake, Not yet the account that love demands and gives The generous leader paused to yield and take; Brief words his follower's wants and woes explain;-- "Light, warmth, and food.--Sat verbum," quoth Gawaine.

Quick to his wondering and Pigmaean troops-- 68 Quick sped the Knight; he spoke and was obey'd; Vanish once more the goblin-visaged groups And soon return caparison'd for aid; Laden with oil to warm and light the air, Flesh from the seal, and mantles from the bear.

Back with impatient rapture bounds the King, 69 Smiling as he was wont to smile of yore; While Gawaine, blithesome as a bird of spring, Sends his sweet laughter ringing to the shore; Pains through that maze of questions, "How and Why?" And lost in joy stops never for reply.

Before them roved wild dogs too numb to bark, 70 Led by one civilized majestic hound, Who scarcely deign'd his followers to remark, Save, when they touch'd him, by a snarl profound; Teaching that plebs, as history may my readers, How curs are look'd on by patrician leaders.

Now gain'd the huts, silent with drowsy life, 71 That scarcely feels the quick restoring skill; Train'd with stern elements to wage the strife, The pigmy race are Nature's conquerors still. With practised hands they chafe the frozen veins, And gradual loose the chill heart from its chains;

Heap round the limbs the fur's thick warmth of fold, 72 And with the cheerful oil revive the air. Slow wake the eyes of Famine to behold The smiling faces and the proffer'd fare; Rank though the food, 'tis that which best supplies The powers exhausted by the withering skies.

This done, they next the languid sufferers bear 73 (Wrapp'd from the cold) athwart the vapoury shade, Regain the vale, and show the homes that there Art's earliest god, Necessity, hath made; Abodes hewn out from winter, winter-proof, Ice-blocks the walls, and hollow'd ice the roof![12]

Without, the snowy lavas, hard'ning o'er, 74 Hide from the beasts the buried homes of men, But in the dome is placed the artful door Through which the inmate gains or leaves the den. Down through the chasm each lowers the living load, Then from the winter seals the pent abode.

There ever burns, sole source of warmth and light, 75 The faithful lamp the whale or walrus gives, Thus, Lord of Europe, in the heart of Night, Unjoyous not, thy patient brother lives! To thee desire, to him possession sent, Thine worlds of wishes,--his that inch, Content!

But Gawaine's home, more dainty than the rest, 76 Betray'd his tastes exotic and luxurious The walls of ice in furry hangings dress'd Form'd an apartment elegant if curious! Like some gigantic son of Major Ursa Turn'd inside out by barbarous vice versa.

Here then he lodged his royal guest and friend, 77 And having placed a slice of seal before him, Quoth he, "Thou ask'st me for my tale, attend; Then give me thine, Heus renovo dolorem!" Therewith the usage villanous and rough, Schemed in cold blood by that malignant chough;

The fraudful dinner (its dessert a wife); 78 The bridal roof with nose assaulting glaive; The oak whose leaves with pinching imps were rife; The atrocious trap into the Viking's cave; The chief obdurate in his damn'd idea, Of proving Freedom by a roast to Freya;

The graphic portrait of the Nuptial goddess; 79 And diabolic if symbolic spit; The hierarch's heresy on types and bodies; And how at last he posed and silenced it; All facts traced clearly to that corvus niger, Were told with pathos that had touch'd a tiger,

So far the gentle sympathising Nine 80 In dulcet strains have sung Sir Gawaine's woes; What now remains they bid the historic line With Dorian dryness unadorn'd disclose; So counsel all the powers of fancy stretch, Then leave the judge to finish off the wretch!

Along the beach Sir Gawaine and the hound 81 Roved all the night, and at the dawn of day Came unawares upon a squadron bound To fish for whales, arrested in a bay For want of winds, which certain Norway hags Had squeezed from heaven and bottled up in bags.[13]

Straight when the seamen, fretting on the shore, 82 Behold a wanderer clad as Freya's priest, They rush, and round him kneeling, they implore The runes, by which the winds may be released: The spurious priest a gracious answer made, And told them Freya sent him to their aid;

Bade them conduct himself and hound on board, 83 And broil two portions of their choicest meat. "The spell," quoth he, "our sacred arts afford To free the wind is in the food we eat; We dine, and dining exorcise the witches, And loose the bags from their infernal stitches.

"Haste then, my children, and dispel the wind; 84 Haste, for the bags are awfully inflating!" The ship is gain'd. Both priest and dog have dined; The crews assembled on the decks are waiting. A heavier man arose the audacious priest, And stately stepp'd he west and stately east!

Mutely invoked St. David and St. Bran 85 To charge a stout north-western with their blessing; Then clear'd his throat and lustily began A howl of vowels huge from Taliessin. Prone fell the crews before the thundering tunes, In words like mountains roll'd the enormous runes!

The excited hound, symphonious with the song, 86 Yell'd as if heaven and earth were rent asunder; The rocks Orphean seem'd to dance along; The affrighted whales plunged waves affrighted under; Polyphlosboian, onwards booming bore The deaf'ning, strident, rauque, Homeric roar!

As lions lash themselves to louder ire, 87 By his own song the Knight sublimely stung Caught the full oestro of the poet's fire, And grew more stunning every note he sung! In each dread blast a patriot's soul exhales, And Norway quakes before the storm of Wales.

Whether, as grateful Cymri should believe, 88 That blatant voice heroic burst the bags, (For sure it might the caves of Boreas cleave Much more the stitchwork of such losel hags!) Or heaven, on any terms, resolved on peace; The wind sprang up before the Knight would cease.

Never again hath singer heard such praise 89 As Gawaine heard; for never since hath song Found out the secret how the wind to raise!-- Around the charmer now the seamen throng, And bribe his blest attendance on their toil, With bales of bear-skin and with tuns of oil.

Well pleased to leave the inhospitable shores, 90 The artful Knight yet slowly seem'd to yield.-- Now through the ocean plunge the brazen prores; They pass the threshold of the world congeal'd; Surprise the snorting mammoths of the main; And pile the decks with Pelions of the slain.

When, in the midmost harvest of the spoil, 91 Pounce comes a storm unspeakably more hideous Than that which drove upon the Lybian soil Anchises' son, the pious and perfidious, When whooping Notus, as the Nine assure us, Rush'd out to play with Africus and Eurus.

Torn each from each, or down the maelstrom whirl'd, 92 Or grasp'd and gulph'd by the devouring sea, Or on the ribs of hurrying icebergs hurl'd, The sunder'd vessels vanish momently. Scarce through the blasts which swept his own, Gawaine Heard the crew shrieking "Chant the runes again!"

Far other thoughts engaged the prescient knight, 93 Fast to a plank he lash'd himself and hound; Scarce done, than, presto, shooting out of sight, The enormous eddy spun him round and round, Along the deck a monstrous wave had pour'd, Caught up the plank and toss'd it overboard.

What of the ship became, saith history not. 94 What of the man--the man himself shall show. "Like stone from sling," quoth Gawaine, "I was shot Into a ridge of what they call a floe,[14] There much amazed, but rescued from the waters, Myself and hound took up our frigid quarters.

"Freed from the plank, drench'd, spluttering, stunn'd, and 95 bruised, We peer'd about us on the sweltering deep, And seeing nought, and being much confused, Crept side by side and nestled into sleep. The nearest kindred most avoid each other, So to shun Death, we visited his brother,

"Awaked at last, we found the waves had stranded 96 A store of waifs portentous and nefarious; Here a dead whale was at my elbow landed, There a sick polypus, that sea-Briareus, Stretch'd out its claws to incorporate my corpus; While howl'd the hound half buried by a porpoise!

"Nimbly I rose, disporpoising my friend;-- 97 Around me scatter'd lay more piteous wrecks, With every wave the accursed Tritons send Some sad memento of submergent decks, Prows, rudders, casks, ropes, blubber, hides, and hooks, Sailors, salt beef, tubs, cabin boys, and cooks.

"Graves on the dead, with pious care bestow'd, 98 (Graves in the ice hewn out with mickle pain By axe and bill, which with the waifs had flow'd To that strange shore) I next collect the gain; Placed in a hollow cleft--and cover'd o'er;-- Then Knight and hound proceeded to explore.

"Far had we wander'd, for the storm had join'd 99 To a great isle of ice, our friend the floe, When as the day (three hours its length!) declined, Out bray'd a roar; I stared around, and lo A flight of dwarfs about the size of sea-moths, Chased by two bears that might have eat behemoths!

"Arm'd with the axe the Tritons had ejected, 100 I rush'd to succour the Pigmaean nation, In strife our valour, I have oft suspected, Proportions safety to intoxication, As drunken men securely walk on walls From which the wretch who keeps his senses falls;

"Let but the noble frenzy seize the brain, 101 And strength divine seems breathed into the form; The rill when swollen swallows up a plain, The breeze runs mad before it blows a storm; To do great deeds, first lose your wits,--then do them! In fine--I burst upon the bears, and slew them!

"The dwarfs, deliver'd, kneel, and pull their noses;[15] 102 In tugs which mean to say 'The Pigmy Nation A vote of thanks respectfully proposes From all the noses of the corporation!' Your Highness knows 'Magister Artis Venter:' On signs for breakfast my replies concenter!

"Quick they conceive, and quick obey; the beasts 103 Are skinn'd, and drawn, and quarter'd in a trice, But Vulcan leaves Diana to the feasts, And not a wood-nymph consecrates the ice-- Bear is but so-so, when 'tis cook'd the best, But bear just skinn'd and perfectly undrest!

"Then I bethink me of the planks and casks 104 Stow'd in the cleft--for fuel quantum suff: I draw the dwarfs--sore chattering, from their tasks, Choose out the morsels least obdurely tough; With these I load the Pigmies--bid them follow-- Regain the haven, and review the hollow.

"But when those minnow-men beheld the whale 105 It really was a spectacle affecting! They shout, they sob, they leap--embrace the tail, Peep in the jaws; then, round me re-collecting, Draw forth these noselings from their hiding places, Which serve as public speakers to their faces!

"While I revolve what this salute may mean, 106 They rush once more upon the poor balaena, Clutch--rend--gnaw--bolt the blubber; but the lean Reject as drying to the duodena! This done,--my broil they aid me to obtain, And, while I eat--the noses go again!

"My tale is closed--the grateful Pigmies lead 107 Myself and hound across the ice defiles; Regain their people and recite my deed, Describe the monsters and display the spoils; With royal rank my feats the dwarfs repay, And build the palace which you now survey!

"The vanquish'd bears are trophied on the wall; 108 The oil you scent once floated in the whale; I had a vision to illume the hall With lights less fragrant,--human hopes are frail! With cares ingenious from the bruins' fat, I made some candles,--which the ladies ate!

"'Tis now your turn to tell the tale, Sir King,-- 109 And by the way our comrade, Lancelot? I hope he found a raven in the ring! Monstrum horrendum!--Sire, I question not That in your justice you have heard enough When we get home--to crucify that chough!"

"Gawaine," said Arthur, with his sunny smile, 110 "Methinks thy heart will soon absolve the raven, Thy friend had perish'd in this icy isle But for thy voyage to the Viking's haven, In every ill which gives thee such offence, Thou seest the raven, I the Providence!"

The Knight reluctant shook his learned head; 111 "So please you, Sire, you cannot find a thief Who picks our pouch, but Providence hath led His steps to pick it;--yet, to my belief, There's not a judge who'd scruple to exhibit That proof of Providence upon a gibbet!

"The chough was sent by Providence:--Agreed: 112 We send the chough to Providence, in turn! Yet in the hound and not the chough, indeed, Your friendly sight should Providence discern; For had the hound been just a whit less nimble, Thanks to the chough, your friend had been a symbol!"

"Thy logic," answer'd Arthur, "is unsound, 113 But for the chough thou never had'st been married; But for the wife thou ne'er hadst seen the hound;-- The Ab initio to the chough is carried: The hound is but the effect--the chough the cause," The generous Gawaine murmur'd his applause.

"Do veniam Corvo! Sire, the chough's acquitted!" 114 "For Lancelot next," quoth Arthur, "be at ease, The task fulfill'd to which he was permitted, The ring veer'd home--I left him on the seas. Ere this, be sure he hails the Cymrian shore, And gives to Carduel one great bulwark more."

Then Arthur told of fair Genevra flying 115 From the scorn'd nuptials of the heathen fane; Her Runic bark to his emprise supplying The steed that bore him to the Northern main; While she, with cheeks that blush'd and looks that fell, Implored a Christian's home in Carduel.

The gentle King well versed in woman's heart, 116 And all the vestal thoughts that tend its shrine, On Lancelot smiled--and answer'd, "Maid, depart; Though o'er our roofs the thunder clouds combine, Yet love shall guard, whatever war betide, The Saxon's daughter--or the Cymrian's bride."

A stately ship from glittering Spezia bore 117 To Cymrian ports the lovers from the King; Then on, the Seeker of the Shield, once more, With patient soul pursued the heavenly wing. Wild though that crew, his heart enthralls their own;-- The great are kings wherever they are thrown.

Nought of that mystery which the Spirit's priest, 118 True Love, draws round the aisles behind the veil, Could Arthur bare to that light joyous breast,-- Life hath its inward as its outward tale, Our lips reveal our deeds,--our sufferings shun; What we have felt, how few can tell to one!

The triple task--the sword not sought in vain, 119 The shield yet hidden in the caves of Lok, Of these spoke Arthur,--"Certes," quoth Gawaine, When the King ceased--"strange legends of a rock Where a fierce Dwarf doth guard a shield of light, Oft have I heard my pigmy friends recite;

"Permit me now your royal limbs to wrap 120 In these warm relics of departed bears; And while from Morpheus you decoy a nap, My skill the grain shall gather from the tares. The Pigmy tongue my erudite pursuits Have traced ad unguem--to the nasal roots!"

Slumbers the King--slumber his ghastly crew: 121 How long they know not, guess not--night and dawn Long since commingled in one livid hue: Like that long twilight o'er the portals drawn, Behind whose threshold spreads eternity! When the sleep burst, and sudden in the sky

Stands the great Sun!--Like the first glorious breath 122 Of Freedom to the slave, like Hope upon The hush of woe, or through the mists of death A cheerful Angel--comes to earth the Sun! Ice still on land--still vapour in the air, But light--the victor Lord--but Light is there!

On siege-worn cities, when their war is spent, 123 From the far hill as, gleam on gleam, arise The spears of some great aiding armament-- Grow the dim splendours, broadening up the skies, Till bright and brighter, the sublime array Flings o'er the world the banners of the Day!

Behold them where they kneel! the starry King, 124 The dwarfs of night, the giants of the sea! Each with the other linked in solemn ring, Too blest for words!--Man's sever'd Family, All made akin once more beneath those eyes Which on their Father smiled in Paradise!

NOTES TO BOOK IX.

1.--Page 346, stanza i.

Form'd of the frost-gems ages labour forth

The mountains of hard and perfect ice are the gradual production, perhaps, of many centuries.--LESLIE'S Polar Seas and Regions.

2.--Page 346, stanza ii.

Here did the venturous Ithacan explore.

Ulysses. Odys., lib. xi.

3.--Page 347, stanza iii.

_And, with the birth of fairy forests rife, Blushes the world of white._

The phenomenon of the red snow on the Arctic mountains is formed by innumerable vegetable bodies; and the olive green of the Greenland Sea by Medusan animalcules, the number of which Mr. Scoresby illustrates by supposing that 80,000 persons would have been employed since the creation in counting it.--See LESLIE.

4.--Page 347, stanza iv.

The morse emerging rears the face of man.

The Morse, or Walrus, supposed to be the original of the Merman; from the likeness its face presents at a little distance to that of a human being.

5.--Page 347, stanza viii.

Floats the vast ice-field with its glassy blink.

The ice-blink seen on the horizon.

6.--Page 348, stanza xiii.

While the dire pest-scourge of the frozen zone.

Though the fearful disease known by the name of the scurvy is not peculiar to the northern latitudes; and Dr. Budd has ably disproved (in the Library of Practical Medicine) the old theory that it originated in cold and moisture; yet the disease was known in the north of Europe from the remotest ages, while no mention is made of its appearance in more genial climates before the year 1260.

7.--Page 349, stanza xxii.

And round and round the bark the narwal sweeps.

The Sea Unicorn.

8.--Page 350, stanza xxv.

_front after front they rise With their bright stare._

The eye of the Walrus is singularly bright.

9.--Page 351, stanza xxxvii.

The ravening glaucus sudden shooting o'er.

The Larus Glaucus, the great bird of prey in the Polar regions.

10.--Page 352, stanza xl.

Blithe from the turf the Dove the blessed leaves.

Herbs which act as the antidotes to the scurvy (the cochlearia, &c.) are found under the snows, when all other vegetation seems to cease.

11.--Page 354, stanza liv.

The earthlier half, its own and Heaven's before.

In allusion to the well-known Platonic fancy, that love is the yearning of the soul for the twin soul with which it was united in a former existence, and which it instinctively recognizes below. Schiller, in one of his earlier poems, has enlarged on this idea with earnest feeling and vigorous fancy.

12.--Page 357, stanza lxxiii.

Ice-blocks the walls, and hollow'd ice the roof!

The houses of the Esquimaux who received Captain Lyon were thus constructed:--the frozen snow being formed into slabs of about two feet long and half a foot thick; the benches were made with snow, strewed with twigs, and covered with skins; and the lamp suspended from the roof, fed with seal or walrus oil, was the sole substitute for the hearth, and furnished light and fire for cooking.

The Esquimaux were known to the settlers and pirates of Norway by the contemptuous name of dwarfs or pigmies--(Skroellings).

13.--Page 358, stanza lxxxi.

_which certain Norway hags Had squeezed from heaven and bottled up in bags._

A well-known popular superstition, not, perhaps, quite extinct at this day, amongst the Baltic mariners.

14.--Page 360, stanza xciv.

"_I was shot Into a ridge of what they call a_ floe.

The smaller kind of ice-field is called by the northern whale-fishers "a floe,"--the name is probably of very ancient date.

15.--Page 361, stanza cii.

"The dwarfs, deliver'd, kneel, and pull their noses.

A salutation still in vogue among certain tribes of the Esquimaux.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

X. ARGUMENT

The Polar Spring--The Boreal Lights and apparition of a double sun--The Rocky Isle--The Bears--The mysterious Shadow from the Crater of the extinct Volcano--The Bears scent the steps of Man: their movements described--Arthur's approach--The Bears emerge from their coverts--The Shadow takes form and life--The Demon Dwarf described--His parley with Arthur--The King follows the Dwarf into the interior of the volcanic rock--The Antediluvian Skeletons--The Troll-Fiends and their tasks-- Arthur arrives at the Cave of Lok--The Corpses of the armed Giants--The Valkyrs at their loom--The Wars that they weave--The Dwarf addresses Arthur--The King's fear--He approaches the sleeping Fiend, and the curtains close around him--Meanwhile Gawaine and the Norwegians have tracked Arthur's steps on the snow, and arrive at the Isle--Are attacked by the Bears--The noises and eruption from the Volcano--The re-appearance of Arthur--The change in him--Freedom and its characteristics--Arthur and his band renew their way along the coast; ships are seen--How Arthur obtains a bark from the Rugen Chieftain; and how Gawaine stores it--The Dove now leads homeward--Arthur reaches England; and, sailing up a river, enters the Mercian territory--He follows the Dove through a forest to the ruins built by the earliest Cimmerians--The wisdom and civilization of the ancestral Druidical races, as compared with their idolatrous successors at the time of the Roman Conquerors, whose remains alone are left to our age--Arthur lies down to rest amidst the moonlit ruins--The Dove vanishes--The nameless horror that seizes the King.

Spring on the Polar Seas!--not violet-crown'd 1 By dewy Hours, nor to cerulean halls Melodious hymn'd, yet Light itself around Her stately path, sheds starry coronals. Sublime she comes, as when, from Dis set free, Came, through the flash of Jove, Persephone:

She comes--that grand Aurora of the North! 2 By steeds of fire her glorious chariot borne, From Boreal courts the meteors flaming forth, Ope heav'n on heav'n, before the mighty Morn: And round the rebel giants of the night On earth's last confines bursts the storm of light.

Wonder and awe! lo, where against the Sun 3 A second Sun[1] his lurid front uprears! As if the first-born lost Hyperion, Hurl'd down of old, from his Uranian spheres, Rose from the hell-rocks on his writhings pil'd, And glared defiance on his Titan child.

Now life, the polar life, returns once more, 4 The reindeer roots his mosses from the snows; The whirring sea-gulls shriek along the shore; Through oozing rills the cygnet gleaming goes; And, where the ice some happier verdure frees, Laugh into light frank-eyed anemones.

Out from the seas still solid, frown'd a lone 5 Chaos of chasm and precipice and rock, There, while the meteors on their revels shone, Growling hoarse glee, in many a grauly flock, With their huge young, the sea-bears sprawling play'd Near the charr'd crater some mute Hecla made.

Sullen before that cavern's vast repose, 6 Like the lorn wrecks of a despairing race Chased to their last hold by triumphant foes, Darkness and Horror stood! But from the space Within the cave, and o'er the ice-ground wan, Quivers a Shadow vaguely mocking man.

Like man's the Shadow falls, yet falling loses 7 The shape it took, each moment changefully; As when the wind on Runic waves confuses The weird boughs toss'd from some prophetic tree. Fantastic, goblin-like, and fitful thrown, Comes the strange Shadow from the drear Unknown.

It is not man's--for they, man's savage foes, 8 Whose sense ne'er fails them when the scent is blood, Sport in the shadow the Unseen One throws, Nor hush their young to sniff the human food; But, undisturbed as if their home were there, Pass to and fro the light-defying lair.

So the bears gamboll'd, so the Shadow play'd, 9 When sudden halts the uncouth merriment. Now man, in truth, draws near, man's steps invade The men-devourers!--Snorting to the scent, Lo, where they stretch dread necks of shaggy snow, Grin with white fangs, and greed the blood to flow!

Grotesquely undulating, moves the flock, 10 Low grumbling as the grisly ranks divide; Some heave their slow bulk peering up the rock, Some stand erect, and shift from side to side The keen quick ear, the red dilating eye, And steam the hard air with a hungry sigh.

At length unquiet and amazed--as rings 11 On to their haunt direct, the dauntless stride, With the sharp instinct of all savage things That doubt a prey by which they are defied, They send from each to each a troubled stare; And huddle close, suspicious of the snare.

Then a huge leader, with concerted wile, 12 Creeps lumbering on, and, to his guidance slow The shagged armies move, in cautious file; Till one by one, in ambush for the foe, Drops into chasm and cleft,--and vanishing With stealthy murther girds the coming King!

He comes,--the Conqueror in the Halls of Time, 13 Known by his silver herald in the Dove, By his imperial tread, and front sublime With power as tranquil as the lids of Jove,-- All shapes of death the realms around afford:-- From Fiends God guard him!--from all else his sword

For he, with spring the huts of ice had left 14 And the small People of the world of snows: Their food the seal, their camp, at night, the cleft, His bold Norwegians follow where he goes; Now in the rear afar, their chief they miss, And grudge the danger which they deem a bliss.

Ere yet the meteors from the morning sky 15 Chased large Orion,--in the hour when sleep Reflects its ghost-land stillest on the eye, Had stol'n the lonely King; and o'er the deep Sought, by the clue the dwarfmen-legends yield, And the Dove's wing--the demon-guarded Shield.

The Desert of the Desolate is won. 16 Still lurks, unseen, the ambush horrible-- Nought stirs around beneath the twofold sun Save that strange Shadow, where before it fell, Still falling;--varying, quivering to and fro, From the black cavern on the glaring snow.

Slow the devourers rise, and peer around: 17 Now crag and cliff move dire with savage life, And rolling downward,--all the dismal ground Shakes with the roar and bristles with the strife: Not unprepared--(when ever are the brave?) Stands the firm King, and bares the diamond glaive.

Distinct through all the meteors, streams the brand, 18 Light'ning along the air, the sea, the rock, Bright as the arrow in that heavenly hand Which slew the Python! Blinded halt the flock, And the great roar, but now so rough and high, Sinks into terror wailing timidly.

Yet the fierce instinct and the rabid sting 19 Of famine goad again the check'd array; And close and closer in tumultuous ring, Reels on the death-mass crushing towards its prey. A dull groan tells where first the falchion sweeps-- When into shape the cave-born Shadow leaps!

Out from the dark it leapt--the awful form! 20 Manlike, but sure not human! on its hair The ice-barbs bristled: like a coming storm The breath smote lifeless every wind in air; Dread form deform'd, as ere the birth of Light, Some son of Chaos and the Antique Night!

At once a dwarf and giant--trunk and limb 21 Knit in gnarl'd strength as by a monstrous chance, Never chimera more grotesque and grim, Paled AEgypt's priesthood with its own romance, When, from each dire delirium Fancy knows, Some Typhon-type of Powers destroying rose.

At the dread presence, ice a double cold 22 Conceived; the meteors from their dazzling play Paused; and appall'd into their azure hold Shrunk back with all their banners; not a ray Broke o'er the dead sea and the doleful shore, Winter's steel grasp lock'd the dumb world once more.

Halted the war--as the wild multitude 23 Left the King scatheless, and their leaders slain; And round the giant dwarf the baleful brood Came with low howls of terror, wrath, and pain, As children round their father. They depart, But strife remains; Fear and the Human Heart;

For Fear was on the bold! Then spoke aloud 24 The horrent Image: "Child of hateful Day, What madness snares thee to the glooms that shroud The realms abandon'd to my secret sway? Why on mine air first breathes the human breath? Hath thy far world no fairer path to Death?"

"All ways to Death, but one to Glory leads, 25 That which alike through earth, or air, or wave, Bears a bold thought to goals in noble deeds," Said the pale King. "And this, methinks, the cave Which hides the Shield that rock'd the sleep of one By whom ev'n Fable shows what deeds were done!

"I seek the talisman which guards the free, 26 And tread where erst the Sire of freemen trod."[2] "Ho!" laugh'd the dwarf, "Walhalla's child was He! Man gluts the fiend when he assumes the god."-- "No god, Deceiver, though man's erring creeds Make gods of men when godlike are their deeds;

"And if the Only and Eternal One 27 Hath, ere his last illuminate Word Reveal'd, Left some grand Memory on its airy throne, Nor smote the nations when to names they kneel'd-- It is that each false god was some great truth!-- To races Heroes are as Bards to youth!"

Thus spoke the King, to whom the Enchanted Lake, 28 Where from all sources Wisdom ever springs, Had given unknown the subtle powers that wake Our intuitions into cloudiest things, Won but by those, who, after passionate dreams, Taste the sharp herb and dare the solemn streams.

The Demon heard; and as a moon that shines, 29 Rising behind Arcturus, cold and still O'er Baltic headlands black with rigid pines,-- So on his knit and ominous brows a chill And livid smile, revealed the gloomy night, To leave the terror sterner for the light.

Thus spoke the Dwarf, "Thou wouldst survive to tell 30 Of trophies wrested from the halls of Lok, Yet wherefore singly face the hosts of Hell? Return, and lead thy comrades to the rock; Never to one, on earth's less dreadful field, The prize of chiefs do War's fierce Valkyrs yield."

"War," said the King, "is waged on mortal life 31 By men with men;--that, dare I with the rest: In conflicts awful with no human strife, Mightiest methinks, that soul the loneliest! When starry charms from Afrite caves were won, No Judah march'd with dauntless Solomon!"

Fell fangs the demon gnash'd, and o'er the crowd 32 Wild cumbering round his feet, with hungry stare Greeding the man, his drooping visage bow'd; "Go elsewhere, sons--your prey escapes the snare: Yours but the food which flesh to flesh supplies; Here not the mortal but the soul defies."

Then striding to the cave, he plunged within; 33 "Follow," he cried, and like a prison'd blast Along the darkness, the reverberate din Roll'd from the rough sides of the viewless Vast; As goblin echoes, through the haunted hollow, 'Twixt groan and laughter, chimed hoarse-gibbering, "Follow!"

The King, recoiling, paused irresolute, 34 Till through the cave the white wing went its way; Then on his breast he sign'd the cross, and mute, With solemn prayer, he left the world of day. Thick stood the night, save where the falchion gave Its clear sharp glimmer lengthening down the cave.

Advancing; flashes rush'd irregular 35 Like subterranean lightning, fork'd and red: From warring matter--wandering shot the star Of poisonous gases; and the tortured bed Of the' old Volcano show'd in trailing fires, Where the numb'd serpent dragg'd its mangled spires.

Broader and ruddier on the Dove's pale wings 36 Now glow'd the lava of the widening spaces; Grinn'd from the rook the jaws of giant things, The lurid skeletons of vanish'd races, They who, perchance, ere man himself had birth, Ruled the moist slime of uncompleted earth.

Enormous couch'd fang'd Iguanodon,[3] 37 To which the monster-lizard of the Nile Were prey too small,--whose dismal haunts were on The swamps where now such golden harvests smile As had sufficed those myriad hosts to feed When all the Orient march'd behind the Mede.

There the foul, earliest reptile spectra lay, 38 Distinct as when the chaos was their home; Half plant, half serpent, some subside away Into gnarl'd roots (now stone)--more hideous some, Half bird--half fish--seem struggling yet to spring, Shark-like the maw, and dragon-like the wing.

But, life-like more, from later layers emerge 39 With their fell tusks deep-stricken in the stone, Herds,[4] that through all the thunders of the surge, Had to the Ark which swept relentless on (Denied to them)--knell'd the despairing roar Of sentenced races time shall know no more.

Under the limbs of mammoths went the path, 40 Or through the arch immense of Dragon jaws, And ever on the King, in watchful wrath, Gazed the attendant Fiend, with artful pause Where dread was deadliest; had the mortal one Falter'd or quail'd, the Fiend his prey had won,

And rent it limb by limb; but on the Dove 41 Arthur look'd steadfast, and the Fiend was foil'd. Now, as along the skeleton world they move, Strange noises jar, and flit strange shadows. Toil'd The Troll's[5] swart people, in their inmost home At work on ruin for the days to come.

A baleful race, whose anvils forge the flash 42 Of iron murder for the limbs of war; Who ripen hostile embryos, for the crash Of earthquakes rolling slow to towers afar; Or train from Hecla's fount the lurid rills, To cities sleeping under shepherd hills;

Or nurse the seeds, through patient ages rife 43 With the full harvest of that crowning fire, When for the sentenced Three--Time, Death, and Life-- Our globe itself shall be the funeral pyre; And, awed, in orbs remote some race unknown Shall miss one star, whose smile had lit their own!

Through the Phlegraean glare, innumerous eyes, 44 Fierce with the murther-lust, scowl ravening, And forms on which had never look'd the skies Stalk near and nearer, swooping round the King, Till from the blazing sword the foul array Shrink back, and wolf-like follow on the way.

Now through waste mines of iron, whose black peaks 45 Frown o'er dull Phlegethons of fire below, While, vague as worlds unform'd, sulphureous reeks Roll on before them huge and dun,--they go. Abrupt the vapours vanish, and the light Bursts like a flood and rushes o'er the night.

A mighty cirque with lustre belts the mine; 46 Its walls of iron glittering into steel; Wall upon wall reflected flings the shrine Of armour! Vizorless the Corpses kneel, Their glazed eyes fix'd upon a couch where, screen'd With whispering curtains, sleeps the Kingly Fiend:

Corpses of giants, who perchance had heard 47 The tromps of Tubal, and had leapt to strife Whose guilt provoked the Deluge: sepulchred In their world's ruins, still a frown like life Hung o'er vast brows,--and spears like turrets shone In hands whose grasp had crush'd the Mastodon.

Around the couch, a silent solemn ring, 48 They whom the Teuton call the Valkyrs sate. Shot through pale webs their spindles glistening; Dread tissues woven out of human hate For heavenly ends!--for there is spun the woe Of every war that ever earth shall know.

Below their feet a bottomless pit of gore 49 Yawn'd, where each web, when once the woof was done, Was scornful cast. Yet rising evermore Out of the surface, wander'd airy on (Till lost in upper space), pale winged seeds, The future heaven-fruit of the hell-born deeds;

For out of every evil born of time, 50 God shapes a good for his eternity. Lo where the spindles, weaving crime on crime, Form the world-work of Charlemains to be;-- How in that hall of iron lengthen forth The fates that ruin, to rebuild, the North!

Here, one stern Sister smiling on the King, 51 Hurries the thread that twines his Nation's doom; And, farther down, the whirring spindles sing Around the woof which from his Baltic home Shall charm the avenging Norman, to control The shatter'd races into one calm whole.

Already here, the hueless lines along, 52 Grows the red creed of the Arabian horde; Already here, the arm'd Chivalric Wrong Which made the cross the symbol of the sword, Which thy worst idol, Rome, to Judah gave, And worshipp'd Mars upon the Saviour's grave!

Already the wild Tartar in his tents, 53 Dreamless of thrones--and the fierce Visigoth[6] Who on Colombia's golden armaments Shall loose the hell-hounds,--nurse the age-long growth Of Desolation--as the noiseless skein Clasps in its web, thy far descendants, Cain!

Already, in the hearts of sires remote 54 In their rude Isle, the spell ordains the germ Of what shall be a Name of wonder, wrought From that fell feast which Glory gives the worm, When Rome's dark bird shall shade with thunder wings Calm brows that brood the doom of breathless kings![7]

Already, though the sad unheeded eyes 55 Of Bards alone foresee, and none believe, The lightning boarded from the farthest skies Into the mesh the race-destroyers weave, When o'er our marts shall graze a stranger's fold, And the new Tarshish rot, as rots the old.

Yea, ever there, each spectre hand the birth 56 Weaves of a war--until the angel-blast (Peal'd from the tromp that knells the doom of earth) Shall start the livid legions from their last; And man, with arm uplifted still to slay, Reel on some Alp that rolls in smoke away!

Fierce glared the dwarf upon the silent King, 57 "There is the prize thy visions would achieve! There, where the hush'd inexorable ring Murder the myriads in the webs they weave, Behind the curtains of Incarnate War, Whose lightest tremour topples thrones afar,--

"Which ev'n the Valkyrs with their bloodless hands 58 Dare never draw aside,--go seek the Shield! Yet be what follows known!--yon kneeling bands Whose camps were Andes, and whose battle-field Left plains, now empires, rolling seas of gore, Shall near the clang and heap to life once more.

"Roused from their task, revengeful shall arise 59 The never-baffled 'Choosers of the Slain;' The Fiend thy hand shall wake, unclose the eyes That flash'd on heavenly hosts their storms again, And thy soul wither in the mighty frown Before whose night an earlier sun sunk down.

"The rocks shall close all path for flight save one, 60 Where now the Troll-fiends wait to rend their prey, And each malign and monster skeleton, Reclothed with life as in the giant day When yonder seas were valleys, scent thy gore, And grin with fangs that gnash for food once more.

"Ho, dost thou shudder, pale one? Back and live." 61 Thrice strove the King for speech, and thrice in vain; For he was man, and till our souls survive The instincts born of flesh, shall Horror reign In that Unknown beyond the realms of Sense, Where the soul's darkness seems the man's defence.

Yet as when through uncertain troublous cloud 62 Breaks the sweet morning star, and from its home Smiles lofty peace, so through the phantom crowd Of fears the Eos of the world to come, FAITH, look'd--revealing how earth-nourish'd are The clouds, and how beyond their reach the star!

Mute on his knee, amidst the kneeling dead 63 He sank--the dead the dreaming fiend revered, And he, the living God! Then terror fled, And all the king illumed the front he rear'd. Firm to the couch on which the fiend reposed He strode;--the curtains, murmuring, round him closed.

Now while this chanced, without the tortured rock 64 Raged fierce the war between the rival might Of beast and man; the dwarf king's ravenous flock And Norway's warriors led by Cymri's knight. For by the foot-prints through the snows explored, On to the rock the bands had track'd their lord.

Repell'd, not conquer'd, back to crag and cave, 65 Sullen and watchful still, the monsters go; And solitude resettles on the wave, But silence not; around, aloft, alow Roar the couch'd beasts, and answering from the main, Shrieks the shrill gull and booms the dismal crane.

And now the rock itself from every tomb 66 Of its dead world within, sends voices forth, Sounds direr far, than in its rayless gloom Crash on the midnight of the farthest North. From beasts our world hath lost, the strident yell, The shout of giants and the laugh of hell.

Reels all the isle; and every ragged steep 67 Hurls down an avalanche;--all the crater-cave Glows into swarthy red, and fire-showers leap From rended summits, hissing to the wave Through its hard ice; or in huge crags, wide-sounding Spring where they crash--on rushing and rebounding.

Dizzy and blind, the staggering Northmen fall 68 On earth that rocks beneath them like a bark; Loud and more loud the tumult swells with all The Acheron of the discord. Swift and dark From every cleft the smoke-clouds burst their way, Rush through the void, and sweep from heaven the day.

Smitten beneath the pestilential blast 69 And the great terror, senseless lay the band, Till the arrested life, with throes at last, Gasp'd back: and holy over sea and land Silence and light reposed. They look'd above And calm in calmed air beheld the Dove!

And o'er their prostrate lord was poised the wing; 70 And when they rush'd and reach'd him, shouting joy, There came no answer from the corpse-like King; And when his true knight raised him, heavily Droop'd his pale front upon the faithful breast, And the closed lids seem'd leaden in their rest.

And all his mail was dinted, hewn, and crush'd, 71 And the bright falchion dim with foul dark gore; And the strong pulse of the strong hand was hush'd; Like a spent storm, that might, which seem'd before Charged with the bolts of Jove, now from the sky Drew breath more feeble than an infant's sigh.

And there was solemn change on that fair face, 72 Nor, whatsoe'er the fear or scorn had been, Did the past passion leave its haggard trace; But on the rigid beauty awe was seen, As one who on the Gorgon's aspect fell Had gazed, and freezing, yet survived the spell!

Not by the chasm in which he left the day, 73 But through a new-made gorge the fires had cleft, As if with fires themselves were forced the way, Had rush'd the King;--and sense and sinew left The form that struggled till the strife was o'er: So faints the swimmer when he gains the shore.

But on his arm was clasp'd the wondrous prize: 74 Dimm'd, tarnish'd, grimed, and black with gore and smoke, Still the pure metal, through each foul disguise, Like starlight scatter'd on dark waters, broke; Through gore, through smoke it shone--the silver Shield, Clear as dawns Freedom from her battle-field!

Days follow'd days, ere from that speechless trance 75 (Borne to green inlets isled amid the snows Where led the Dove), the King's reviving glance Look'd languid round on watchful, joyful brows; Ev'n while he slept, new flowers the earth had given, And on his heart brooded the bird of heaven!

But ne'er as voice and strength and sense return'd, 76 To his good knight the strife that won the Shield Did Arthur tell; deep in his soul inurn'd (As in the grave its secret) nor reveal'd To mortal ear that mystery which for ever Flow'd through his thought, as through the cave a river;

Whether to Love, how true soe'er its faith, 77 Whether to Wisdom, whatsoe'er its skill, Till his last hour the struggle and the scath Remain'd unutter'd and unutterable; But aye, in solitude, in crowds, in strife, In joy, that memory lived within his life:

It made not sadness, though the calm, grave smile 78 Never regain'd the flash that youth had given,-- But as some shadow from a sacred pile Darkens the earth from shrines that speak of heaven, That gloom the grandeur of religion wore, And seem'd to hallow all it rested o'er.

Such Freedom is, O Slave, that would be free! 79 Never her real struggles into life Hath History told! As it hath been shall be The Apocalypse of Nations; nursed in strife Not with the present, nor with living foes, But where the centuries shroud their long repose.

Out from the graves of earth's primaeval bones, 80 The shield of empire, patient Force must win: What made the Briton free? not crashing thrones Nor parchment laws. The charter must begin In Scythian tents, the steel of Nomad spears; To date the freedom, count three thousand years!

Neither is Freedom mirth! Be free, O slave, 81 And dance no more beneath the lazy palm. Freedom's mild brow with noble care is grave, Her bliss is solemn as her strength is calm; And thought mature each childlike sport debars The forms erect whose look is on the stars.

Now as the King revived, along the seas 82 Flow'd back, enlarged to life, the lapsing waters; Kiss'd from their slumber by the loving breeze, Glide, in light dance, the Ocean's silver daughters-- And blithe and hopeful o'er the sunny strands, Listing the long-lost billow, rove the bands.

At length, O sight of joy!--the gleam of sails 83 Bursts on the solitude! more near and near Come the white playmates of the buxom gales.-- The whistling cords, the sounds of man, they hear. Shout answers shout;--light sparkles round the oar-- And from the barks the boat skims on to shore.

It was a race from Rugen's friendly soil, 84 Leagued by old ties with Cymri's land and king, Who, with the spring-time, to their wonted spoil Of seals and furs had spread the canvas wing To bournes their fathers never yet had known;-- And found, amazed, hearts bolder than their own.

Soon to the barks the Cymrian and their bands 85 Are borne: Bright-hair'd, above the gazing crews, Lone on the loftiest deck, the leader stands, To whom the King (his rank made known) renews All that his tale of mortal hope and fear Vouchsafes from truth to thrill a mortal's ear;

And from the barks whose sails the chief obey, 86 Craves one to waft where yet the fates may guide.-- With rugged wonder in his large survey, That calm grand brow the son of AEgir[8] eyed, And seem'd in awe, as of a god, to scan Him who so moved his homage, yet was man.

Smoothing his voice, rough with accustom'd swell 87 Above the storms, and the wild roar of war, The Northman answer'd, "Skalds in winter tell Of the dire dwarf who guards the Shield of Thor, For one whose race, with Odin's blent, shall be, Lords of the only realm which suits the Free,

"Ocean!--I greet thee, and this strong right hand 88 Place in thine own to pledge myself thy man. Choose as thou wilt for thee and for thy band, Amongst the sea-steeds in the stalls of Ran. Need'st thou our arms against the Saxon foe? Our flag shall fly where'er thy trumpets blow!"

"Men to be free must free themselves," the King 89 Replied, proud-smiling. "Every father-land Spurns from its breast the recreant sons that cling For hope to standards winds not theirs have fann'd. Thankful through thee our foe we reach;--and then Cymri hath steel eno' for Cymrian men!"

While these converse, Sir Gawaine, with his hound, 90 Lured by a fragrant and delightsome smell From roasts--not meant for Freya,--makes his round, Shakes hands with all, and hopes their wives are well. From spit to spit with easy grace he walks, And chines astounded vanish while he talks.

At earliest morn the bark to bear the King, 91 His sage discernment delicately stores, Rejects the blubber and disdains the ling For hams of rein-deers and for heads of boars, Connives at seal, to satisfy his men, But childless leaves each loud-lamenting hen.

And now the bark the Cymrian prince ascends, 92 The large oars chiming to the chanting crew, (His leal Norwegian band) the new-found friends From brazen trumpets blare their loud adieu. Forth bounds the ship, and Gawaine, while it quickens, The wind propitiates--with three virgin chickens.

Led by the Dove, more brightly day by day, 93 The vernal azure deepens in the sky; Far from the Polar threshold smiles the way-- And lo, white Albion shimmers on the eye, Nurse of all nations, who to breasts severe Takes the rude children, the calm men to rear.

Doubt and amaze with joy perplex the King: 94 Not yet the task achieved, the mission done, Why homeward steers the angel pilot's wing? Of the three labours rests the crowning one; Unreach'd the Iron Gates--Death's sullen hold-- Where waits the Child-guide with the locks of gold.

Yet still the Dove cleaves homeward through the air; 95 Glides o'er the entrance of an inland stream; And rests at last on bowers of foliage, where Thick forests close their ramparts on the beam, And clasp with dipping boughs a grassy creek, Whose marge slopes level with the brazen beak.

Around his neck the shield the Adventurer slung; 96 And girt the enchanted sword. Then, kneeling, said The young Ulysses of the golden tongue, "Not now to phantom foes the dove hath led: For, if I err not, this a Mercian haven, And from the dove peeps forth at last the raven!

"Not lone, nor reckless, in these glooms profound, 97 Tempt the sure ambush of some Saxon host; If out of sight, at least in reach of sound, Let our stout Northmen follow up the coast; Then if thou wilt, from each suspicious tree Shake laurels down, but share them, Sire, with me!"

"Nay," answer'd Arthur, "ever, as before, 98 Alone the Pilgrim to his bourne must go; But range the men conceal'd along the shore; Set watch, from these green turrets, for the foe; Moor'd to the marge where broadest hangs the bough, Hide from the sun the glitter of the prow:--

And so farewell!" He said; to land he leapt; 99 And with dull murmur from its verdant waves, O'er his high crest the billowy forest swept. As towards some fitful light the swimmer cleaves His stalwart way,--so through the woven shades Where the pale wing now glimmers and now fades.

With strong hand parting the tough branches, goes 100 Hour after hour the King; till light at last From skies long hid, in ambient silver flows Through opening glades, the length of gloom is past, And the dark pines receding stand around A silent hill with antique ruins crown'd.

Day had long closed; and from the mournful deeps 101 Of old volcanoes spent, the livid moon Which through the life of planets lifeless creeps Her ghostly way, deaf to the choral tune Of spheres rejoicing, on those ruins old Look'd down, herself a ruin,--hush'd and cold.

Mutely the granite wrecks the King survey'd, 102 And knew the work of hands Cimmerian, What time in starry robes, and awe array'd, Grey Druids spoke the oracles of man-- Solving high riddles to Chaldean Mage, Or the young wonder of the Samian Sage.

A date remounting far beyond the day 103 When Roman legions met the scythed cars, When purer founts sublime had lapsed away Through the deep rents of unrecorded wars, And bloodstain'd altars cursed the mountain sod,[9] Where the first faith had hail'd the Only God.

For all now left us of the parent Celt, 104 Is of that later and corrupter time,-- Not in rude domeless fanes those Fathers knelt, Who lured the Brahman from his burning clime, Who charm'd lost science from each lone abyss, And wing'd the shaft of Scythian Abaris.[10]

Yea, the grandsires of our primaeval race 105 Saw angel tracks the earlier earth upon, And as a rising sun, the morning face Of Truth more near the flush'd horizon shone; Filling ev'n clouds with many a golden light, Lost when the orb is at the noonday height.

Through the large ruins (now no more), the last 106 Perchance on earth of those diviner sires, With noiseless step the lone descendant pass'd; Not there were seen BAL-HUAN'S amber pyres; No circling shafts with barbarous fragments strewn, Spoke creeds of carnage to the spectral moon.

But Art, vast, simple, and sublime, was there 107 Ev'n in its mournful wrecks,--such Art foregone As the first Builders, when their grand despair Left Shinar's tower and city half undone, Taught where they wander'd o'er the newborn world.-- Column, and vault, and roof, in ruin hurl'd,

Still spoke of hands that founded Babylon! 108 So in the wrecks, the Lord of young Romance By fallen pillars laid him musing down. More large and large the moving shades advance, Blending in one dim silence sad and wan The past, the present, ruin and the man.

Now, o'er his lids life's gentlest influence stole, 109 Life's gentlest influence, yet the likest death! That nightly proof how little needs the soul Light from the sense, or being from the breath, When all life knows a life unknown supplies, And airy worlds around a Spirit rise.

Still through the hazy mist of stealing sleep, 110 His eyes explore the watchful guardian's wing, There, where it broods upon the moss-grown heap, With plumes that all the stars are silvering. Slow close the lids--reopening with a start As shoots a nameless terror through his heart.

That strange wild awe which haunted Childhood thrills, 111 When waking at the dead of Dark, alone, A sense of sudden solitude which chills The blood;--a shrinking as from shapes unknown; An instinct both of some protection fled, And of the coming of some ghastly dread.

He look'd, and lo, the Dove was seen no more, 112 Lone lay the lifeless wrecks beneath the moon, And the one loss gave all that seem'd before Desolate,--twofold desolation! How slight a thing, whose love our trust has been, Alters the world, when it no more is seen!

He strove to speak, but voice was gone from him. 113 As in that loss new might the terror took, His veins congeal'd; and, interfused and dim, Shadow and moonlight swam before his look; Bristled his hair; and all the strong dismay Seized as an eagle when it grasps its prey.

Senses and soul confused, and jarr'd, and blent, 114 Lay crush'd beneath the intolerable Power; Then over all, one flash, in lightning, rent The veil between the Immortal and the Hour; Life heard the voice of unembodied breath, And Sleep stood trembling face to face with Death.

NOTES TO BOOK X.

1.--Page 366, stanza iii.

A second Sun his lurid front uprears!

The apparition of two or more suns in the polar firmament is well known. Mr. Ellis saw six--they are most brilliant at daybreak--and though diminished in splendour, are still visible even after the appearance of the real sun.

2.--Page 369, stanza xxvi.

And tread where erst the Sire of freemen trod.

Thor's visit to the realms of Hela and Lok forms a prominent incident in the romance of Scandinavian mythology.

3.--Page 370, stanza xxxvii.

Enormous couch'd fang'd Iguanodon.

Dr. Mantell, in his "Wonders of Geology," computes the length of the Iguanodon (formerly an inhabitant of the Wealds of Sussex) at one hundred feet.

4.--Page 371, stanza xxxix.

Herds, that through all the thunders of the surge.

The Deinotherium--supposed to have been a colossal species of hippopotamus.

5.--Page 371, stanza xli.

The Troll's swart people, in their inmost home.

In Scandinavian mythology, the evil spirits are generally called Trolls (or Trolds). The name is here applied to the malignant race of Dwarfs, whose homes were in the earth, and who could not endure the sun.

6.--Page 373, stanza liii.

Dreamless of thrones--and the fierce Visigoth.

Visigoth, poetice for the Spanish ravagers of Mexico and Peru.

7.--Page 373, stanza liv.

Calm brows that brood the doom of breathless kings!

Napoleon.

8.--Page 377, stanza lxxxvi.

That calm grand brow the son of AEgir eyed.

AEgir, the God of the Ocean, the Scandinavian Neptune.

9.--Page 380, stanza ciii.

And bloodstain'd altars cursed the mountain sod.

The testimony to be found in classical writers as to the original purity of the Druid worship, before it was corrupted into the idolatry which existed in Britain at the time of the Roman conquest, is strongly corroborated by the Welsh triads. These triads, indeed, are of various dates, but some bear the mark of a very remote antiquity--wholly distinct alike from the philosophy of the Romans and the mode of thought prevalent in the earlier ages of the Christian era; in short, anterior to all the recorded conquests over the Cymrian people. These, like proverbs, appear the wrecks and fragments of some primaeval ethics, or philosophical religion. Nor are such remarkable alone for the purity of the notions they inculcate relative to the Deity; they have often, upon matters less spiritual, the delicate observation, as well as the profound thought, of reflective wisdom. It is easy to see in them how identified was the Bard with the Sage--that rare union which produces the highest kind of human knowledge. Such, perhaps, are the relics of that sublimer learning which, ages before the sacrifice of victims in wicker idols, won for the Druids the admiration of the cautious Aristotle, as ranking among the true enlighteners of men--such the teachers who (we may suppose to have) instructed the mystical Pythagoras; and furnished new themes for meditation to the musing Brahman. Nor were the Druids of Britain inferior to those with whom the Sages of the western and eastern world came more in contact. On the contrary, even to the time of Caesar, the Druids of Britain excelled in science and repute those in Gaul; and to their schools the Neophytes of the Continent were sent.

In the Stanzas that follow the description of the more primitive Cymrians, it is assumed that the rude Druid remains now existent (as at Stonehenge, &c.), are coeval only with the later and corrupted state of a people degenerated to idol-worship, and that the Cymrians previously possessed an architecture, of which no trace now remains, more suited to their early civilization. If it be true that they worshipped the Deity only in his own works, and that it was not until what had been a symbol passed into an idol, that they deserted the mountain-top and the forest for the temple, they would certainly have wanted the main inducement to permanent and lofty architecture. Still it may be allowed, at least to a poet, to suppose that men so sensible as the primitive Saronides, would have held their schools and colleges in places more adapted to a northern climate than their favourite oak groves.

10.--Page 380, stanza civ.

And wing'd the shaft of Scythian Abaris.

The arrow of Abaris (which bore him where he pleased) is supposed by some to have been the loadstone. And Abaris himself has been, by some ingenious speculators, identified with a Druid philosopher.

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