Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie, and other poems Part 18

"I have push'd apart The mountain's heart; I have trod the valley down; With strong hands curled, Have caught and hurled, To the earth the high hill's crown!

My brow I thrust, Through sultry dust, That the lean wolf howl'd upon; I drove my tides, Between the sides, Of the bellowing canon.

From chrystal shoulders, I hurled my boulders, On the bridge's iron span.

When I rear'd my head From its old time bed, Shook the pale cities of man!

I have run a course With the swift, wild horse; I have thunder'd pace for pace, With the rushing herds-- I have caught the beards Of the swift stars in the race!

Neither moon nor sun Could me out-run; Deep cag'd in my silver bars, I hurried with me, To the shouting sea, Their light and the light of the stars!

The reeling earth In furious mirth With sledges of ice I smote.

I whirled my sword Where the pale berg roar'd, I took the ship by the throat!

With stagnant breath I called chill Death My guest to the hot bayou.

I built men's graves, With strong thew'd waves That thing that my strength might do.

I did right well-- Men cried "From h.e.l.l The might of Thy hand is given!"

By loose rocks stoned The stout quays groaned, Sleek sands by my spear were riven.

O'er shining slides, On my gloss'd tides, The brown cribs close woven roll'd; The stout logs sprung, Their height among My loud whirls of white and gold!

The great raft prest, My calm, broad breast-- A dream thro' my shady trance, The light canoe-- A spirit flew-- The pulse of my blue expanse.

Wing'd swift the ships.

My foaming lips Made rich with dewy kisses, All night and morn, Field's red with corn, And where the mill-wheel hisses.

And shivers and sobs, With lab'ring throbs, With its whirls my strong palms play'd.

I parted my flags, For thirsty stags, On the necks of arches laid.

To the dry-vined town My tide roll'd down-- Dry lips and throats a-quiver, Rent sky and sod With shouts "From G.o.d The strength of the mighty river!"

I, list'ning, heard The soft-song'd bird; The beetle about thy boles.

The calling breeze, In thy crests, O Trees-- Never the voices of souls!"

We, freed souls, of the Trees look'd down On the river's shining eyes of brown; And upward smiled At the tender air and its warrior child, The iron eagle strong and wild.

"No will of ours, The captive souls of our barky tow'rs; "His the deed Who laid in the secret earth the seed; And with strong hand Knitted each woody fetter and band.

Never, ye Ask of the tree, The "Wherefore" or "Why" the tall trees stand, Built in their places on the land Their souls unknit; With any wisdom or any wit, The subtle "Why,"

Ask ye not of earth or sky-- But one command it.

GISLI: THE CHIEFTAIN.

To the G.o.ddess Lada prayed Gisli, holding high his spear Bound with buds of spring, and laughed All his heart to Lada's ear.

Damp his yellow beard with mead, Loud the harps clang'd thro the day; With bruised b.r.e.a.s.t.s triumphant rode Gisli's galleys in the bay.

Bards sang in the banquet hall, Set in loud verse Gisli's fame, On their lips the war G.o.ds laid Fire to chaunt their warrior's name.

To the Love-queen Gisli pray'd, Buds upon his tall spear's tip; Laughter in his broad blue eyes, Laughter on his bearded lip.

To the Spring-queen Gisli pray'd, She, with mystic distaff slim, Spun her hours of love and leaves, Made the stony headlands dim--

Dim and green with tender gra.s.s, Blew on ice-fields with red mouth; Blew on lovers hearts; and lured White swans from the blue-arched south.

To the Love-queen Gisli pray'd, Groan'd far icebergs tall and blue As to Lada's distaff slim, All their ice-locked fires flew.

To the Love-queen Gisli prayed, She, with red hands, caught and spun.

Yellow flames from crater lips, flames from the waking sun.

To the Love-queen Gisli prayed, She with loom and beam and spell, All the subtle fires of earth Wove, and wove them strong and well.

To the Spring-queen Gisli prayed, Low the sun the pale sky trod; Mute her ruddy hand she raised Beckon'd back the parting G.o.d.

To the Love-queen Gisli prayed-- Weft and woof of flame she wove-- Lada, G.o.ddess of the Spring!

Lada, G.o.ddess strong of Love!

Sire of the strong chieftain's prayer, Victory with his pulse of flame; Mead its mother--loud he laughed, Calling on great Lada's name.

"G.o.ddess Lada--Queen of Love!

"Here stand I and quaff to thee-- "Deck for thee with buds my spear-- "Give a comely wife to me!

"Blow not to my arms a flake "Of crisp snow in maiden guise; "Mists of pallid hair and tips "Of long ice-spears in her eyes!

"When my death-sail skims the foam-- "Strain my oars on Death's black sea-- "When my foot the "Gla.s.s-Hill" seeks-- "Such a maid may do for me!

"Now, O Lada, mate the flesh!

"Mate the fire and flame of life, "Tho' the soul go still unwed, "Give the flesh its fitting wife!

"As the galley runs between, "Skies with billows closely spun: "Feeling but the wave that leaps "Closest to it in the sun."

"Throbs but to the present kiss "Of the wild lips of the sea; "Thus a man joys in his life-- "Nought of the Beyond knows he!

"G.o.ddess! here I cast bright buds, "Spicy pine boughs at thy feet; "Give the flesh its fitting mate "Life is strong and life is sweet!"

To the Love-queen Gisli pray'd-- Weft and woof of flame she wove: Lada, G.o.ddess of the Spring-- Lada, G.o.ddess strong of Love!

PART II.