第 43 节
作者:
瞎说呗 更新:2021-02-20 14:48 字数:9321
with welcome vividness before my mind。
What picture shall I try to conjure from the past; to live in your fancy; as it does in mine?
Let the setting be these very hills;flooded by this same cold; steely sunshine。 In the midst stands a stalwart form; in quaint but regal attire。 Hot blood deepens the colour of his sun…bronzed cheek; an iron purpose gleams in his earnest eyes; like the flash of a drawn sword; a circlet of gold binds the massive brow; and from beneath it stream to below his waist thick masses of hair; of that dusky red which glows like the heart of a furnace in the sunlight; but deepens earth…brown in the shadow。 By his side stands a fair woman; her demure and heavy…lidded eyes are seldom lifted from the earth; which yet they seem to scorn; but the king's eyes rest on her; and many looks are turned towards him。 A multitude is present; moved by one great event; swayed by a thousand passions;some with garrulous throats full of base adulation and an unworthy joy;some pale; self…scorning; with averted looks; and hands that twitch instinctively at their idle daggers; then drop hopeless; harmless at their sides。
The king is Harald Haarfager; 〃of the fair hair;〃 the woman is proud and beautiful Gyda; whose former scorn for him; in the days when he was nothing but the petty chief of a few barren mountains; provoked that strange wild vow of his; 〃That he would never clip or comb his locks till he could woo her as sole king of Norway。〃
Among the crowd are those who have bartered; for ease; and wealth; and empty titles born of the king's breaththeir ancient Udal rights; their Bonder privileges; others have sunk their proud hearts to bear the yoke of the stronger hand; yet gaze with yearning looks on the misty horizon that opens between the hills。 A dark speck mars that shadowy line。 Thought follows across the space。 It is a ship。 Its sides are long; and black; and low; but high in front rises the prow; fashioned into the semblance of a gigantic golden dragon; against whose gleaming breast the divided waters angrily flash and gurgle。 Along the top sides of the deck are hung a row of shining shields; in alternate breadths of red and white; like the variegated scales of a sea…monster; whilst its gilded tail curls aft over the head of the steersman。 From either flank projects a bank of some thirty oars; that look; as they smite the ocean with even beat; like the legs on which the reptile crawls over its surface。 One stately mast of pine serves to carry a square sail made of cloth; brilliant with stripes of red; white; and blue。
And who are they who navigate this strange; barbaric vessel?why leave they the sheltering fiords of their beloved Norway? They are the noblest hearts of that noble landfreemen; who value freedom;who have abandoned all rather than call Harald master; and now seek a new home even among the desolate crags of Iceland; rather than submit to the tyranny of a usurper。
〃Rorbober Gud! wenn nur bie Geelen gluben!〃
Another picture; and a sadder story; but the scene is now a wide dun moor; on the slope of a seaward hill; the autumn evening is closing in; but a shadow darker than that of evening broods over the desolate plain;the shadow of DEATH。 Groups of armed men; with stern sorrow in their looks; are standing round a rude couch; hastily formed of fir branches。 An old man lies theredying。 His ear is dulled even to the shout of victory; the mists of an endless night are gathering in his eyes; but there is passion yet in the quivering lip; and triumph on the high…resolved brow; and the gesture of his hand has kingly power still。 Let me tell his saga; like the bards of that old time。
HACON'S LAST BATTLE。
I。
All was over: day was ending As the foeman turned and fled。 Gloomy red Glowed the angry sun descending; While round Hacon's dying bed; Tears and songs of triumph blending; Told how fast the conqueror bled
II。
〃Raise me;〃 said the King。 We raised him Not to ease his desperate pain; That were vain! 〃Strong our foe wasbut we faced him Show me that red field again。〃 Then; with reverent hands; we placed him High above the bloody plain。
III。
Silent gazed he; mute we waited; Kneeling round…a faithful few; Staunch and true; Whilst above; with thunder freighted; Wild the boisterous north wind blew; And the carrion…bird; unsated; On slant wing around us flew。
IV。
Sudden; on our startled hearing; Came the low…breathed; stern command 〃Lo! ye stand? Linger not; the night is nearing; Bear me downwards to the strand; Where my ships are idly steering Off and on; in sight of land。〃
V。
Every whispered word obeying; Swift we bore him down the steep; O'er the deep; Up the tall ship's side; low swaying To the storm…wind's powerful sweep; Andhis dead companions laying Round him;we had time to weep。
VI。
But the King said〃Peace! bring hither Spoil and weaponsbattle…strown; Make no moan; Leave me and my dead together; Light my torch; and thenbegone。〃 But we murmured; each to other; 〃Can we leave him thus alone?〃
VII。
Angrily the King replieth; Flash the awful eyes again; With disdain 〃Call him not alone who lieth Low amidst such noble slain; Call him not alone who dieth Side by side with gallant men。〃
VIII。
Slowly; sadly; we departed: Reached again that desolate shore; Nevermore Trod by him; the brave true…hearted Dying in that dark ship's core! Sadder keel from land ne'er parted; Nobler freight none ever bore!
IX。
There we lingered; seaward gazing; Watching o'er that living tomb; Through the gloom Gloom! which awful light is chasing Blood…red flames the surge illume! Lo! King Hacon's ship is blazing; 'Tis the hero's self…sought doom。
X。
Right before the wild wind driving; Madly plungingstung by fire No help nigh her Lo! the ship has ceased her striving! Mount the red flames higherhigher! Tillon ocean's verge arriving; Sudden sinks the Viking's pyre Hacon's gone!
Let me call one more heroic phantom from Norway's romantic past。
A kingly presence; stately and tall; his shield held high above his heada broken sword in his right hand。 Olaf Tryggvesson! Founder of Nidaros;that cold Northern Sea has rolled for many centuries above your noble head; and yet not chilled the battle heat upon your brow; nor staunched the blood that trickles down your iron glove; from hidden; untold wounds; which the tender hand of Thyri shall never heal!
To such ardent souls it is indeed given 〃to live for ever〃 (the for ever of this world); for is it not 〃Life〃 to keep a hold on OUR affections; when their own passions are at rest;to influence our actions (however indirectly)when action is at an end for them? Who shall say how much of modern heroism may owe its laurels to that first throb of fiery sympathy which young hearts feel at the relation of deeds such as Olaf Tryggvesson's?
The forms of those old Greeks and Romans whom we are taught to reverence; may project taller shadows on the world's stage; but though the scene be narrow here; and light be wanting; the interest is not less intense; nor are the passions less awful that inspired these ruder dramas。
There is an individuality in the Icelandic historian's description of King Olaf that wins one's interestat first as in an acquaintanceand rivets it at last as in a personal friend。 The old Chronicle lingers with such loving minuteness over his attaching qualities; his social; generous nature; his gaiety and 〃frolicsomeness;〃 even his finical taste in dress; and his evident proneness to fall too hastily in love; have a value in the portrait; as contrasting with the gloomy colours in which the story sinks at last。 The warm; impulsive spirit speaks in every action of his life; from the hour whena young child; in exilehe strikes his axe into the skull of his foster…father's murderer; to the last grand scene near Svalderoe。 You trace it in his absorbing grief for the death of Geyra; the wife of his youth; the saga says; 〃he had no pleasure in Vinland after it;〃 and then naively observes; 〃he therefore provided himself with war…ships; and went a…plundering;〃 one of his first achievements being to go and pull down London Bridge。 This peculiar kind of 〃distraction〃 (as the French call it) seems to have had the desired effect; as is evident in the romantic incident of his second marriage; when the Irish Princess Gyda chooses himapparently an obscure strangerto be her husband; out of a hundred wealthy and well…born aspirants to her hand。 But neither Gyda's love; nor the rude splendours of her father's court; can make Olaf forgetful of his claims upon the throne of Norwaythe inheritance of his father; and when that object of his just ambition is attained; and he is proclaimed King by general election of the Bonders; as his ancestor Harald Haarfager had been; his character deepens in earnestness as the sphere of his duties is enlarged。 All the energies of his ardent nature are put forth in the endeavour to convert his subjects to the true Faith。 As he himself