Classic Poem

In the evening dusk when the storm raged high
He heard a voice at his window cry:
" Gunnar,
Now that the billows rush over the sea,
Come show thy courage, and let me try
If the young hot blood in thy breast reply;
Come out on the rolling waves with me!
And if no fear to thy heart come nigh,
Gunnar,
We'll steer for the Isle of Felicity. "

It was Snowfrid:
Oft before in forest-wildernesses
He had seen that loveliest wood-nymph bright;
Her whose blue eyes glowed with starry light,
Fair the brow beneath her golden tresses.

He hasted him out, she took his hand,
And the two went down to the ocean-strand.
" Snowfrid,
In thy silvery robe how thy beauty gleams! "
The moon, which rose o'er the wood's gray band,
Suffusing the clouds with its reddish beams,
Lit the sails outspread at the nymph's command,
And the shallop sped forth in foam from the land.
" Snowfrid,
We swing on our way, O bride of my dreams! "
At his side
She could hear the winds their sagas telling,
Dreamily could watch the orbed moon.
Round about the waves were thundering soon,
Round about the storm's loud wail was swelling.

Now crashing seas o'er the bulwarks fall,
Before them rises a headland tall.
" Gunnar,
The moonlight shows us where gold is stored, "
Thus, high on the crest of the great cliff-wall,
The little trolls tempt and beckon and call:
" Come, youth, and take here thy rich reward!
Come, and no more be Poverty's thrall!
Gunnar,
Give us thy soul, and take thou our hoard! "

With whistling of air and of flying spray
A raging host roars over the bay.
" Gunnar,
Now come the giants in furious train! "
Their swords are flashing, their banners sway,
A deafening homage their legions pay
To Might, whose fetters the world enchain.
" Give us thy soul, and thy name for aye,
Gunnar,
Shall shine with glory in Honor's fane. "

But now on an inlet the moonlight played,
And hushed was the roar the billows made.
" Gunnar, "
So lured a voice, " turn hither to me!
A cottage waits in a forest glade,
A faith that never its vow betrayed.
Here may'st thou dream by the sighing sea;
The fairest of arms around thee laid,
Gunnar,
Shall lovingly weave thy destiny. "

But Snowfrid raised herself
High in the prow:
" Better the battle's
Ill-paid guerdon
Than the sly dragon's
Ease mid gold-heaps;
Better to die for
The right, though scorned,
Than to live famous
In selfish striving;
Better than peace is
The clasp of danger.
Choosest thou me, thou
Choosest the tempest.

" Strict the runes of
The hero-life.
Thus they bid thee
On evil giants
Thy vengeance wreak,
Boldly offer
Thy blood for the weak,
Willingly suffer,
All things forsake,
Fight a hopeless fight,
And nameless die.

" That is life's true hero-song.
Seek not the Isle of Felicity! "
With that she was gone,
Lost in a fog-wreath suddenly.
O'er the billowy desert he sailed alone.

Gunnar, youth!
Many a purpose toward the grave may speed thee,
If of these thou choose the warrior's way,
Through unrest, and grief, and change 't will lead thee,
And in mists of doubt thy feet will stray.
Weary, lone,
Must he fight who with his shield would cover
Those too weak to face the harsh world's wrath,
And the nearer heaven his hopes would hover,
By so much the harder is his path.

But, O youth,
Thou may'st see the nymph whom thou adorest,
If to thy best dreams thy heart be true;
Ye may sport as erstwhile in the forest,
She may sing thee songs of comfort too,
And for thee
Ope the door of boyhood-memory's garden,
When thou turnest there to rest from strife,
Where in Ida's vale the Norn is warden
O'er the dawn-gold tables of thy life.