But the King said—"Peace! bring hither
Spoil and weapons—battle-strown,
Make no moan;
Leave me and my dead together,
Light my torch, and then—begone."
But we murmured, each to other,
"Can we leave him thus alone?"
VII.
Angrily the King replieth;
Flash the awful eyes again,
With disdain—
"Call him not alone who lieth
Low amidst such noble slain;
Call him not alone who dieth
Side by side with gallant men."
VIII.
Slowly, sadly, we departed:
Reached again that desolate shore,
Nevermore
Trod by him, the brave true-hearted—
Dying in that dark ship's core!
Sadder keel from land ne'er parted,
Nobler freight none ever bore!
IX.
There we lingered, seaward gazing,
Watching o'er that living tomb,
Through the gloom—
Gloom! which awful light is chasing—
Blood-red flames the surge illume!
Lo! King Hacon's ship is blazing;
'Tis the hero's self-sought doom.
X.
Right before the wild wind driving,
Madly plunging—stung by fire—
No help nigh her—
Lo! the ship has ceased her striving!
Mount the red flames higher—higher!
Till—on ocean's verge arriving,
Sudden sinks the Viking's pyre—
Hacon's gone!
Let me call one more heroic phantom from Norway's romantic past.