Randvar the songsmith — Edition Insights

led; Many the souls that sped; Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders._

“_Many a wassail-bout Wore the long winter out; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk’s tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail, Filled to o’erflowing._

“_Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor._

“_I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid, And in the forest’s shade, Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted._

“_Bright in her father’s hall Shield gleamed upon the wall, Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter’s hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story._

“_While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn, Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew 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 white Follow the sea-mew’s flight, Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded?_

“_Scarce had I put to sea, Bearing the maid with me,— Fairest of all was she Among 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 flaw Came round the gusty Skaw So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us._

“_And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death! was the helmsman’s hail, Death without quarter! ’Midships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water!_

“_As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt, With 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 shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady’s bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, Stands looking seaward._

“_There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden’s tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes, Under that tower she lies; Ne’er shall the sun arise On 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 stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior’s soul, SKOAL! to the Northland! SKOAL!_” _Thus the tale ended._

_Randvar the Songsmith_

“_A man’s foes are those of his own house_” —Northern saying.

In the old world over the ocean the storm of the Norman Conquest was raging, but no rumble of it reached across the water to the new world and that oasis in the wilderness which men call now the lost city of Norumbega, but which was known in those days as the Town of Starkad Jarl. There in the primeval forest the breath of October was a silver elixir in the air, and the morning breeze carried only the notes of hunting-horns. When half a dozen young Norsemen came galloping down a tree-arched aisle, their talk dealt with no greater matter than the latest freak of their Jarl’s freakish son.

“It is seen from the hoof-marks that he has not turned aside. We need not wait long to overtake—”

“Suppose he should not want to turn back—”

“Heard I never of a jarl’s hunt that began by hunting the Jarl’s son!”

“He was quiet in riding out of the Town with us; what caused him to spur ahead?”

“Only that he had a whim to be alone, as he is apt.”

“I remember how he broke away once last spring.”

“It may be that this fall he has done it once too often. Starkad is wroth.”

So the talk ran on until the tall leader drew rein, signalling to those behind him to check their pace.