Our Scandinavian Forefathers: Two Lectures

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A. Russell, 1862 - Northmen - 52 pages
 

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Page 44 - Sisters, weave the web of death ; Sisters, cease ; the work is done. Hail the task, and hail the hands ! Songs of joy and triumph sing ! . Joy to the victorious bands ; Triumph to the younger king. Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale, Learn the tenor of our song. Scotland, thro' each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong.
Page 44 - O'er the youthful King your shield. We the reins to slaughter give, Ours to kill, and ours to spare : Spite of danger he shall live. (Weave the crimson web of war.) They, whom once the desert-beach Pent within its bleak domain, Soon their ample sway shall stretch O'er the plenty of the plain.
Page 48 - When the war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle-flags are furled, In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World...
Page 25 - And fire each beacon height, Our galleys anchor in the sound, Our banner heaves in sight ! And through the surge and arrowy shower That rains on this broad shield, Harald uplifts the sign of power Which rules the battle-field ! " So cries the Death-doomed on the red strand of slaughter While the helmets of heroes like anvils are ringing.
Page 24 - Was his by right of doom. Since then where hath young Harald been But, where Jarl's son should be, 'Mid war and waves — the combat keen That raged on land or sea...
Page 44 - Ere the ruddy sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of fate we tread, Wading thro...
Page 24 - Through sunshine or through gloom ; Through swelling surge on bloody strand I plant the scroll of doom ! On Scandia's lonest, bleakest waste, Beneath a starless sky, The shadowy Three like meteors passed, And bade young Harald die ; — They sang the war-deeds of his sires, And pointed to their tomb ; They told him that this glory-flag Was his by right of doom.
Page 23 - The death-rune of the brave. Upheaving then his giant form Upon the brown bark's prow, And tossing back the yellow storm Of hair from his broad brow ; The lips of song burst open, and The words of fire rushed out. And thundering through that martial crew Pealed Harald's battle shout; — It is Harald the dauntless that lifteth his great voice, As the Northmen roll on with the Doom-written banner.
Page 23 - The eagle hearts of all the North Have left their stormy strand ; The warriors of the world are forth To choose another land ! Again, their long keels sheer the wave, Their broad sheets court the breeze ; Again, the reckless and the brave, Ride lords of weltering seas. Nor swifter from the well-bent bow Can feathered shaft be sped, Than o'er the ocean's flood of snow Their snoring galleys tread.

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