As strikes a different hand the strings. CLAUD HALCRO Be mine the Imber-goose to play, Mother doubtful, Mother dread, NORNA Gold is ruddy, fair, and free, gore; Let him that asks after them look on his hand, And if there is blood on 't, he's one of FAREWELL, merry maidens, to song and to their band. CLAUD HALCRO Mother doubtful, Mother dread, NORNA Untouched by love, the maiden's breast Is like the snow on Rona's crest, laugh, For the brave lads of Westra are bound to Sing on, my brave bird, while we follow, like thee, By bank, shoal, and quicksand, the swarms of the sea; And when twenty-score fishes are straining our line, Sing louder, brave bird, for their spoils shall be thine. We'll sing while we bait, and we'll sing when we haul, For the deeps of the Haaf have enough for us all; There is torsk for the gentle, and skate for the carle, And there's wealth for bold Magnus, the son of the earl. Huzza! my brave comrades, give way for the Haaf, We shall sooner come back to the dance and the laugh; For life without mirth is a lamp without oil; Then, mirth and long life to the bold Magnus Troil! VIII CLEVELAND'S SONGS LOVE wakes and weeps Soft as the pillow of her slumbers! Through groves of palm The distant beds of flowers revealing. O wake and live! A shadowed bliss, the real excelling; Its next must join the seaward cheer, And shout among the shouting crew. The accents which I scarce could form Beneath your frown's controlling check Must give the word, above the storm, To cut the mast and clear the wreck. The timid eye I dared not raise, — Must point the guns upon the chase To all I love, or hope, or fear,— IX HALCRO'S VERSES From Chapter xxiii. AND you shall deal the funeral dole; And you shall deal my horses of pride; But deal not vengeance for the deed, The body to its place, and the soul to Hea ven's grace, And the rest in God's own time. Saint Magnus control thee, that martyr of treason; Saint Ronan rebuke thee, with rhyme and with reason; By the mass of Saint Martin, the might of Saint Mary, Be thou gone, or thy weird shall be worse if thou tarry! If of good, go hence and hallow thee; If of earth, let the swart mine hold thee; If a Pixie, seek thy ring; If a Nixie, seek thy spring; If on middle earth thou 'st been Slave of sorrow, shame, and sin, The worm, thy play-fellow, wails for the want of thee: Hence, houseless ghost! let the earth hide thee, Till Michael shall blow the blast, see that there thou bide thee! Phantom, fly hence! take the Cross for a X NORNA'S INCANTATIONS From Chapter xxv. CHAMPION, famed for warlike toil, Yet be not wrathful, Chief, nor blight XI THE SAME, AT THE MEETING WITH MINNA From Chapter xxviii. THOU SO needful, yet so dread, The North would sleep the sleep of death; |