III.
The years have passed, and Gerda,
Now grown a maiden tall,
Looks from the latticed casement
High up the palace wall;
But not for flash and flutter
Of snowy wings looks she—
Thro’ rain or sun
No longer come
The white doves merrily;
For peace and they have flown afar,
And all the land is red with war.
Great Ivar, dreaded Ivar,
Who rules the northern coast,
Across his rocky borders
Has led a conquering host;
And smiling field and hamlet
Despoiling as they came,
Five months before the city walls
The savage hordes have lain.
The glimmer of their camp-fires
The Princess Gerda sees,
Their tents, their hostile ensigns
A-floating in the breeze.
She looks forth from her window
With eyes grown used to tears;
And as she looks she listens—
What sound is that she hears?
A crash, a shriek, a shouting—
A battlement gives way;
Swift thro’ the breach come rushing
The foe in dire array,
And sudden as a thunder-storm
Sweeps o’er the smiling day,
The air is dark and clamorous
And wild with deadly fray.
But calm and clear
Does Gerda hear
His orders ring,
As the brave King,
Unfaltering,
Keeps the fierce foe at bay.
But see! he falls!
“The King is down!”
Who’ll guard the walls?
Who’ll save the town?
“The King is slain! we fight in vain!
Alack, alack, the King is slain!”
The panic-stricken soldiers,
Pale-faced, from street to street
Flee wildly, as the enemy
Pursue their flying feet:
“The King is slain, the town is lost!
Who can withstand great Ivar’s host!”
But look! what stranger legions
Against the hostile tide
Leap forth in shining armor
And bold advancing ride,
Ride on and ever onward,
Beat back the hostile tide?
“The gods! the gods! Valhalla
Has sent its warriors down
To fight against our Ivar!
To battle for the town!”
And in dismay and terror
Is hushed the conquering cry.
From street to street,
In swift retreat,
And over fallen battlement,
The pale besiegers fly—
Fly fast and far; nor pause they
Till, on the northern shore,
They see the birchen forests,
And hear the breakers roar.
Meanwhile, with peals of gladness
The rescued city rang,
And loud their great deliverance
The joyous people sang,
And loud they sang the praises
Of him, the unknown knight,
Who led his valiant legions
To battle for the right.
So loud and long their praises,
Awaking from his swoon,
The King o’erheard, and seeing
Who wore the chieftain’s plume,
Aghast, stood up and questioned,
Hand on his horse’s rein,
“What art thou—man or spirit?
And what may be thy name?”
“I am, O King, no spirit;
And Eric is my name;—
Prince Eric, son of Eric,
Who sleeps on yonder plain.”
“What! Eric? son of Eric?
Ah, I have heard of thee,
How wise and well thou rulest
Beside the western sea.
But why dost thou come hither
To drive away the foe,
And earn my people’s praises,
Since well thou seem’st to know
That it was I,
In years gone by,
Who laid thy father low?”
“Not for thy people’s praises
I hither led my band,
But with, O king, thy favor,
To win thy daughter’s hand.”
“Great soul and gallant suitor!
Well doth he play his part,
Who, seeking hand of daughter,
Doth steal the father’s heart.”
But Princess Gerda saw not:
She heeded naught of all,
Nor gazed she from the window
High up the palace wall.
“Wherefore the loud rejoicing,
Wherefore the triumph vain,
Since he is dead—my father,—
Since he, the King, is slain?”
With streaming eyes she greeted
Two ent’ring at the door,
Aye, even him who bowed so low
His white plumes swept the floor;
The other—lo! her father!
Behold his spirit come!
She stood in trembling wonder;
Her pallid lips were dumb.
“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!
If thou wilt turn the key,
How gladly will I offer
To be a guide for thee!”
So spake the Prince; and Gerda
In listening paler grew;
Recalling guide and venture,
The words, the voice she knew.
“They come to me from spirit-land!
Two heroes are they, tall and grand,
And clad in armor bright!”
And in her fear,
As they drew near,
The quaint old room reeled round her,
And all was black as night.
But when again the Princess
Her blue eyes opened wide,
And saw the good King kneeling
And smiling at her side,
And heard him softly whisper,
“Behold, my little one,
I bring to thee a suitor
Will please me for a son”—
She bowed in sweet submission,
And meekly answered she:
“Whatever please my father,
That also pleaseth me.”
And in the royal city,
And all the country thro’,
Were festal cheer and gladness
Where late were war and woe;
For the good King’s dominions
And those the sea beside,
Were wed when Princess Gerda
Became brave Eric’s bride.