The Skeleton in Armor

    Who， with thy hollow breast

    Still in rude armor drest，

    Comest to daunt me！

    Wrapt not in Eastern balms，

    But 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 #CCCCFF 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 #CCCCFF

    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 #CCCCFF sea-strand，

    Waving his armèd 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！' was the helmsman's hail，

    'Death without quarter！'

    Mid-ships with iron keel

    Struck we her ribs of steel；

    Down her #CCCCFF hulk did reel

    Through the #CCCCFF 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，

    Oh， 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.