The Skeleton in Armor

"Speak! speak I thou fearful guestWho, with thy hollow breastStill in rude armor drest,Comest to daunt me!Wrapt not in Eastern balms,Bat with thy fleshless palmsStretched, as if asking alms,Why dost thou haunt me?"

Then, from those cavernous eyesPale flashes seemed to rise,As when the Northern skiesGleam in December;And, like the water's flowUnder December's snow,Came a dull voice of woeFrom the heart's chamber.

"I was a Viking old!My deeds, though manifold,No Skald in song has told,No Saga taught thee!Take heed, that in thy verseThou dost the tale rehearse,Else dread a dead man's curse;For this I sought thee.

"Far in the Northern Land,By the wild Baltic's strand,I, with my childish hand,Tamed the gerfalcon;And, with my skates fast-bound,Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,That the poor whimpering houndTrembled to walk on.

"Oft to his frozen lairTracked I the grisly bear,While from my path the hareFled like a shadow;Oft through the forest darkFollowed the were-wolf's bark,Until the soaring larkSang from the meadow.

"But when I older grew,Joining a corsair's crew,O'er the dark sea I flewWith the marauders.Wild was the life we led;Many the souls that sped,Many the hearts that bled,By our stern orders.

"Many a wassail-boutWore the long Winter out;Often our midnight shoutSet the cocks crowing,As we the Berserk's taleMeasured in cups of ale,Draining the oaken pail,Filled to o'erflowing.

"Once as I told in gleeTales of the stormy sea,Soft eyes did gaze on me,Burning yet tender;And as the white stars shineOn the dark Norway pine,On that dark heart of mineFell their soft splendor.

"I wooed the blue-eyed maid,Yielding, yet half afraid,And in the forest's shadeOur vows were plighted.Under its loosened vestFluttered her little breastLike birds within their nestBy the hawk frighted.

"Bright in her father's hallShields gleamed upon the wall,Loud sang the minstrels all,Chanting his glory;When of old HildebrandI asked his daughter's hand,Mute did the minstrels standTo hear my story.

"While the brown ale he quaffed,Loud then the champion laughed,And as the wind-gusts waftThe sea-foam brightly,So the loud laugh of scorn,Out of those lips unshorn,From the deep drinking-hornBlew the foam lightly.

"She was a Prince's child,I but a Viking wild,And though she blushed and smiled,I was discarded!Should not the dove so whiteFollow the sea-mew's flight,Why did they leave that nightHer nest unguarded?

"Scarce had I put to sea,Bearing the maid with me,Fairest of all was sheAmong the Norsemen!When on the white sea-strand,Waving his armed hand,Saw we old Hildebrand,With twenty horsemen.

"Then launched they to the blast,Bent like a reed each mast,Yet we were gaining fast,When the wind failed us;And with a sudden flawCame round the gusty Skaw,So that our foe we sawLaugh as he hailed us.

"And as to catch the galeRound veered the flapping sail,Death I was the helmsman's hail,Death without quarter!Mid-ships with iron keelStruck we her ribs of steelDown her black hulk did reelThrough the black water!

"As with his wings aslant,Sails the fierce cormorant,Seeking some rocky hauntWith his prey laden,So toward the open main,Beating to sea again,Through the wild hurricane,Bore I the maiden.

"Three weeks we westward bore,And when the storm was o'er,Cloud-like we saw the shoreStretching to leeward;There for my lady's bowerBuilt I the lofty tower,Which, to this very hour,Stands looking seaward.

"There lived we many years;Time dried the maiden's tearsShe had forgot her fears,She was a mother.Death closed her mild blue eyes,Under that tower she lies;Ne'er shall the sun ariseOn such another!

"Still grew my bosom then.Still as a stagnant fen!Hateful to me were men,The sunlight hateful!In the vast forest here,Clad in my warlike gear,Fell I upon my spear,O, death was grateful!

"Thus, seamed with many scars,Bursting these prison bars,Up to its native starsMy soul ascended!There from the flowing bowlDeep drinks the warrior's soul,Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!"Thus the tale ended.