“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,[9]
  So that our foe we saw
    Laugh as he hailed us.

[Footnote 9:  The Skaw is the most northerly point of Denmark.]

  “And as to catch the gale
  Round veered the flapping sail,
  Death! was the helmsman’s hail,
    Death without quarter! 
  Mid-ships 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 lee-ward;
  There for my lady’s bower
  Built I the lofty tower,[10]
  Which, to this very hour,
     Stands looking seaward.

[Footnote:  10.  At Newport in Rhode Island is an old stone tower, which tradition says was built by the Norsemen when they visited this country.  That is the tower to which Longfellow refers here.]

[Illustration:  THREE WEEKS WE WESTWARD BORE]

  “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![11] the Northland! skoal!”
    —­Thus the tale ended.

[Footnote 11:  Skoal is the customary salutation in Scandinavia when a health is drunk.]

[Illustration:  Round Tower at Newport]

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

By ROBERT BROWNING

  I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he;
  I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
  “Good speed!” cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew,
  “Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through. 
  Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
  And into the midnight we galloped abreast.