With more than all her old-time pride She walks the rye-field at his side, Careless of cot or hall, Since love transfigures all.
Rich beyond dreams, the vantage-ground Of life is gained; her hands have found The talisman of old That changes all to gold.
While she who could for love dispense With all its glittering accidents, And trust her heart alone, Finds love and gold her own.
What wealth can buy or art can build Awaits her; but her cup is filled Even now unto the brim; Her world is love and him!
1866.
The while he heard, the Book-man drew A length of make-believing face, With smothered mischief laughing through "Why, you shall sit in Ramsay's place, And, with his Gentle Shepherd, keep On Yankee hills immortal sheep, While love-lorn swains and maids the seas beyond Hold dreamy tryst around your huckleberry-pond."
The Traveller laughed: "Sir Galahad Singing of love the Trouvere's lay!
How should he know the blindfold lad From one of Vulcan's forge-boys?"--"Nay, He better sees who stands outside Than they who in procession ride,"
The Reader answered: "selectmen and squire Miss, while they make, the show that wayside folks admire.
"Here is a wild tale of the North, Our travelled friend will own as one Fit for a Norland Christmas hearth And lips of Christian Andersen.
They tell it in the valleys green Of the fair island he has seen, Low lying off the pleasant Swedish shore, Washed by the Baltic Sea, and watched by Elsinore."
KALLUNDBORG CHURCH
"Tie stille, barn min Imorgen kommer Fin, Fa'er din, Og gi'er dig Esbern Snares nine og hjerte at lege med!"
Zealand Rhyme.
"Build at Kallundborg by the sea A church as stately as church may be, And there shalt thou wed my daughter fair,"
Said the Lord of Nesvek to Esbern Snare.
And the Baron laughed. But Esbern said, "Though I lose my soul, I will Helva wed!"
And off he strode, in his pride of will, To the Troll who dwelt in Ulshoi hill.
"Build, O Troll, a church for me At Kallundborg by the mighty sea; Build it stately, and build it fair, Build it quickly," said Esbern Snare.
But the sly Dwarf said, "No work is wrought By Trolls of the Hills, O man, for naught.
What wilt thou give for thy church so fair?"
"Set thy own price," quoth Esbern Snare.
"When Kallundborg church is builded well, Than must the name of its builder tell, Or thy heart and thy eyes must be my boon."
"Build," said Esbern, "and build it soon."
By night and by day the Troll wrought on; He hewed the timbers, he piled the stone; But day by day, as the walls rose fair, Darker and sadder grew Esbern Snare.
He listened by night, he watched by day, He sought and thought, but he dared not pray; In vain he called on the Elle-maids shy, And the Neck and the Nis gave no reply.
Of his evil bargain far and wide A rumor ran through the country-side; And Helva of Nesvek, young and fair, Prayed for the soul of Esbern Snare.
And now the church was wellnigh done; One pillar it lacked, and one alone; And the grim Troll muttered, "Fool thou art To-morrow gives me thy eyes and heart!"
By Kallundborg in black despair, Through wood and meadow, walked Esbern Snare, Till, worn and weary, the strong man sank Under the birches on Ulshoi bank.
At, his last day's work he heard the Troll Hammer and delve in the quarry's hole; Before him the church stood large and fair "I have builded my tomb," said Esbern Snare.
And he closed his eyes the sight to hide, When he heard a light step at his side "O Esbern Snare!" a sweet voice said, "Would I might die now in thy stead!"
With a grasp by love and by fear made strong, He held her fast, and he held her long; With the beating heart of a bird afeard, She hid her face in his flame-red beard.
"O love!" he cried, "let me look to-day In thine eyes ere mine are plucked away; Let me hold thee close, let me feel thy heart Ere mine by the Troll is torn apart!
"I sinned, O Helva, for love of thee!
Pray that the Lord Christ pardon me!"
But fast as she prayed, and faster still, Hammered the Troll in Ulshoi hill.
He knew, as he wrought, that a loving heart Was somehow baffling his evil art; For more than spell of Elf or Troll Is a maiden's prayer for her lover's soul.
And Esbern listened, and caught the sound Of a Troll-wife singing underground "To-morrow comes Fine, father thine Lie still and hush thee, baby mine!
"Lie still, my darling! next sunrise Thou'lt play with Esbern Snare's heart and eyes!"
"Ho! ho!" quoth Esbern, "is that your game?
Thanks to the Troll-wife, I know his name!"
The Troll he heard him, and hurried on To Kallundborg church with the lacking stone.
"Too late, Gaffer Fine!" cried Esbern Snare; And Troll and pillar vanished in air!
That night the harvesters heard the sound Of a woman sobbing underground, And the voice of the Hill-Troll loud with blame Of the careless singer who told his name.
Of the Troll of the Church they sing the rune By the Northern Sea in the harvest moon; And the fishers of Zealand hear him still Scolding his wife in Ulshoi hill.
And seaward over its groves of birch Still looks the tower of Kallundborg church, Where, first at its altar, a wedded pair, Stood Helva of Nesvek and Esbern Snare!
1865.
"What," asked the Traveller, "would our sires, The old Norse story-tellers, say Of sun-graved pictures, ocean wires, And smoking steamboats of to-day?
And this, O lady, by your leave, Recalls your song of yester eve: Pray, let us have that Cable-hymn once more."
"Hear, hear!" the Book-man cried, "the lady has the floor.
"These noisy waves below perhaps To such a strain will lend their ear, With softer voice and lighter lapse Come stealing up the sands to hear, And what they once refused to do For old King Knut accord to you.
Nay, even the fishes shall your listeners be, As once, the legend runs, they heard St. Anthony."
THE CABLE HYMN.
O lonely bay of Trinity, O dreary shores, give ear!
Lean down unto the white-lipped sea The voice of God to hear!