“The days grew longer and longer,
  Till they became as one,
And southward through the haze
I saw the sullen blaze
  Of the red midnight sun.

“And then uprose before me,
  Upon the water’s edge,
The huge and haggard shape
Of that unknown North Cape,
  Whose form is like a wedge.

“The sea was rough and stormy,
  The tempest howled and wailed,
And the sea-fog, like a ghost,
Haunted that dreary coast,
  But onward still I sailed.

“Four days I steered to eastward,
  Four days without a night: 
Round in a fiery ring
Went the great sun, O King,
  With red and lurid light.”

Here Alfred, King of the Saxons,
  Ceased writing for a while;
And raised his eyes from his book,
With a strange and puzzled look,
  And an incredulous smile.

But Othere, the old sea-captain,
  He neither paused nor stirred,
Till the King listened, and then
Once more took up his pen,
  And wrote down every word.

“And now the land,” said Othere,
  “Bent southward suddenly,
And I followed the curving shore
And ever southward bore
  Into a nameless sea.

“And there we hunted the walrus,
  The narwhale, and the seal;
Ha! ’t was a noble game! 
And like the lightning’s flame
  Flew our harpoons of steel.

“There were six of us all together,
  Norsemen of Helgoland;
In two days and no more
We killed of them threescore,
  And dragged them to the strand!”

Here Alfred the Truth-Teller
  Suddenly closed his book,
And lifted his blue eyes,
With doubt and strange surmise
  Depicted in their look.

And Othere the old sea-captain
  Stared at him wild and weird,
Then smiled, till his shining teeth
Gleamed white from underneath
  His tawny, quivering beard.

And to the King of the Saxons,
  In witness of the truth,
Raising his noble head,
He stretched his brown hand, and said,
  “Behold this walrus-tooth!”

DAYBREAK

A wind came up out of the sea,
And said, “O mists, make room for me.”

It hailed the ships, and cried, “Sail on,
Ye mariners, the night is gone.”

And hurried landward far away,
Crying, “Awake! it is the day.”

It said unto the forest, “Shout! 
Hang all your leafy banners out!”

It touched the wood-bird’s folded wing,
And said, “O bird, awake and sing.”

And o’er the farms, “O chanticleer,
Your clarion blow; the day is near.”

It whispered to the fields of corn,
“Bow down, and hail the coming morn.”

It shouted through the belfry-tower,
“Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour.”

It crossed the churchyard with a sigh,
And said, “Not yet! in quiet lie.”

THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ