The Skeleton In Armor

"Speak! speak I thou fearful guest      Who, with thy hollow breast      Still in rude armor drest,          Comest to daunt me!      Wrapt not in Eastern balms,      Bat with thy fleshless palms      Stretched, as if asking alms,          Why dost thou haunt me?"     Then, from those cavernous eyes     Pale flashes seemed to rise,     As when the Northern skies          Gleam in December;     And, like the water's flow     Under December's snow,     Came a dull voice of woe          From the heart's chamber.     "I was a Viking old!     My deeds, though manifold,     No Skald in song has told,          No Saga taught thee!     Take heed, that in thy verse     Thou dost the tale rehearse,     Else dread a dead man's curse;          For this I sought thee.     "Far in the Northern Land,     By the wild Baltic's strand,     I, with my childish hand,          Tamed the gerfalcon;     And, with my skates fast-bound,     Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,          That the poor whimpering hound     Trembled to walk on.     "Oft to his frozen lair     Tracked I the grisly bear,     While from my path the hare          Fled like a shadow;     Oft through the forest dark     Followed the were-wolf's bark,     Until the soaring lark         Sang from the meadow.     "But when I older grew,     Joining a corsair's crew,     O'er the dark sea I flew          With the marauders.     Wild was the life we led;     Many the souls that sped,     Many the hearts that bled,         By our stern orders.     "Many a wassail-bout     Wore the long Winter out;     Often our midnight shout         Set the cocks crowing,     As we the Berserk's tale     Measured in cups of ale,     Draining the oaken pail,         Filled to o'erflowing.     "Once as I told in glee     Tales of the stormy sea,     Soft eyes did gaze on me,         Burning yet tender;     And as the white stars shine     On the dark Norway pine,     On that dark heart of mine         Fell their soft splendor.     "I wooed the blue-eyed maid,     Yielding, yet half afraid,     And in the forest's shade         Our vows were plighted.     Under its loosened vest     Fluttered her little breast     Like birds within their nest         By the hawk frighted.     "Bright in her father's hall     Shields gleamed upon the wall,     Loud sang the minstrels all,         Chanting his glory;     When of old Hildebrand     I asked his daughter's hand,     Mute did the minstrels stand         To hear my story.     "While the brown ale he quaffed,     Loud then the champion laughed,     And as the wind-gusts waft         The sea-foam brightly,     So the loud laugh of scorn,     Out of those lips unshorn,     From the deep drinking-horn         Blew the foam lightly.     "She was a Prince's child,     I but a Viking wild,     And though she blushed and smiled,         I was discarded!     Should not the dove so white     Follow the sea-mew's flight,     Why did they leave that night         Her nest unguarded?     "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,     So that our foe we saw         Laugh as he hailed us.     "And as to catch the gale     Round veered the flapping sail,     Death I 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 leeward;     There for my lady's bower     Built I the lofty tower,     Which, to this very hour,         Stands looking seaward.     "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! to the Northland! skoal!"         Thus the tale ended.