WHY stands uncovered that northern host High on the seaboard there? Why seeks the old blind king the coast, With his white, wild-fluttering hair? He, leaning on his staff the while, His bitter grief outpours, Till across the bay the rocky isle Sounds from its caverned shores. "From the dungeon-rock, thou robber, bring My daughter back again! Her gentle voice, her harp's sweet string Soothed an old father's pain. From the dance along the green shore Thou hast borne her o'er the wave; Eternal shame light on thy head; Mine trembles o'er the grave." Forth from his cavern, at the word, The robber comes, all steeled, Swings in the air his giant sword, And strikes his sounding shield. "A goodly guard attends thee there; Why suffered they the wrong? Is there none will be her champion Of all that mighty throng?" Yet from that host there comes no sound; They stand unmoved as stone; The blind king seems to gaze around; "Am I all, all alone?" "Not all alone!" His youthful son Grasps his right hand so warm— "Grant me to meet this vaunting foe! Heaven's might inspires my arm." "O son! it is a giant foe; There's none will take thy part; Yet by this hand's warm grasp, I know Thine is a manly heart. Here, take the trusty battle-sword— 'Twas the old minstrel's prize;— If thou art slain, far down the flood Thy poor old father dies!" And hark! a skiff glides swiftly o'er, With plashing, spooming sound; The king stands listening on the shore; 'Tis silent all around— Till soon across the bay is borne The sound of shield and sword, And battle-cry, and clash, and clang, And crashing blows, are heard. With trembling joy then cried the king: "Warrior! what mark you? Tell! 'Twas my good sword; I heard it ring; I know its tone right well." "The robber falls; a bloody meed His daring crime hath won; Hail to thee, first of heroes! hail! Thou monarch's worthy son!" Again 'tis silent all around; Listens the king once more; "I hear across the bay the sound As of a plashing oar." "Yes, it is they!—They come!—They come— Thy son, with spear and shield, And thy daughter fair, with golden hair, The sunny-bright Gunild." "Welcome!" exclaims the blind old man, From the rock high o'er the wave; "Now my old age is blest again; Honored shall be my grave. Thou, son, shalt lay the sword I wore Beside the blind old king. And thou, Gunilda, free once more, My funeral song shalt sing." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MUSICAL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONNET ON FAME (2) by JOHN KEATS SONNET: 54 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE GIVE ME THE SPLENDID SILENT SUN by WALT WHITMAN TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 4. AL-MALIK by EDWIN ARNOLD CHORUS OF A SONG THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ALBERT CHEVALIER by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM THE TRYST OF THE NIGHT by MAY (MARY) CLARISSA GILLINGTON BYRON |