Long were the night-times on that slip of shore,
Hedged in on one hand by the snow-capped hills,
And to the westward by the main, upheaved
And hillocky, that walled them from the world. Now Magnus, clept the Proper, best of men,
On shoulders broad bore up the royal red
In streeted Nidaros, --a peaceful man,
More proud to be a father than a king;
And he, content to see his people glad,
With rubicond, round face--a smiling sun, --
Made them the more so. Yet would seasons fall
When even pampered sloth grew wearisome;
When for long time the north-glow's dream of day,
By snow-wrack fenced and ever thickening fog,
Left heaven free race-course for the hurricane,
When from the smoking surface of the sea
The gypsy lanterns of the moor-ild fled,
And flickering went out; and tardily
The moonless nights dragged into sunless days, --
Each night so like its mates in heaviness
And each succeeding day so like the night,
That to the yawning world of Nidaros
The slowly trickling sand-glass on the shelf
Seemed clogged in the throat, and the black bat of Time
Clipt of its wings. Oft in such straits as this,
Like a barred dungeon-keep became the court, --
Each kaemper prisoned by his own camp-fire,
Each skipper all too safely left astrand,
Each huntsman to his own hole bayed and barked
By wolf-packs, famine-driven from the hills.
Then, ever watchful, down upon them charged
The Spirit of Unrest, the Quarrelsome,
Sloth's ever-ready handmaid, --locks unkempt,
Tempests of passion in her eyes, --who sprang
With easy stride across that steed untamed,
The roaring North-Wind, fretting his white flanks
With bony thigh, and heel, and willowy scourge, --
And dropt into their midst. Unwelcome guest,
She pushed unbidden to their banquet-hall;
And, planted ghostlike at the upper board,
A hollow-eyed and scowling seneschal,
Sucked the light breath of wick and smoking brand,
Unspiced the dishes, turned to dissonance
The flourish of the trumpet that foretold
Each change of platter; and from every mouth,
Though full-fed and with laughter puckered, stole
All mirth and mask of it. But ever then
Ere hate of fellowship and hate of all
Had time to mutter into voiced complaint
And thrust its clamor to the royal ear,
Would Magnus read it ambushed in the eye
ANd torpid tongue, and ready-witted speed
Slim pages to each chamber of his house,
Proclaiming, "Vesper being rung this night,
We will to guest-hall, and the skald shall sound
The masterful exploits of Harold's days; "
Or "Lady Valborg's lips, by song-craft stirred,
Have to her harp a tender ballad taught; "
Or "He of Flanders with his jugglery
Shall play the herbrest and astound our ears; "
Or "With us lodge we a far-traveled guest,
Late from our neighbor isle of Angle-Land,
Whose tales of the last tournay, warming us,
Shall deck with summer-glow our dingy walls,
Shall filch from each all thought of present ill,
Kindle the tinder of each ashen cheek,
And with a youngling's ardor kiss away
The frown from every forehead." Then post-haste
Throughout the skali, honeycombed and vast, --
Itself a petty realm, shorn from the rest
By stress of weather, --with light pattering feet
And tongues untethered would the pages flit,
Coursing the windy flights and passage-ways,
Pushing unheralded in every room,
E'en ladies' bower, their tossing yellow hair;
And summer would steal back to darkened eyes,
And yawns and sighs to ready laughter yield. Thus, one mid-winter time, when sleet and frost
Beleaguering the palace-prison walls,
So closely sat that few had ventured forth
For a full sennight, ran the welcome word.
Promptly the meal was served, the vesper chimed,
The praying priest cut short his "Amen, "
And the long guest-hall thronged to furthest bench
By all the household, ringed in babbling groups
About the bonfires, roaring down their midst. Knight, squire, and house-carle sat as equals here:
Some backward swaying, propt upon one arm,
Scanning the pictured carpets on the walls;
Some burying pale cheeks between both fists
To follow those that gamed; still more with bairn
Or goodwife at their sides, or favorite hound;
While some, bow-backed, unruffled hugged their knees,
And leaned to listen for the twentieth time
To some spent tale. And though impatient all,
Each suddenly found much that must be said, --
For time being afield, like pack unleashed
All sped to join the chase, tongues running wild;
And whether rat or roebuck were the quest
Mattered but little. Garrulous the hour
Ere from the threshold of the royal rooms
Swept in the court and courtiers; whereupon
With much ado of bench and buskined foot,
Crushing sweet odor from the cedar sprays,
All else arose; and the high-constable
With staff of office overtopped the din,
Sounding the salutation: "Hail, all hail!
Hail to King Magnus! And our new-come guest!" Whereto, with mighty echo, as of billows
That storm a rock-walled shore, adown the hall
Resounded the fair words of welcome: "Hail!
Hail to King Magnus! And our new-come guest!"