Poets Corner.

Otago Witness, Issue 1586, 15 April 1882, Page 25

Poets Corner.

Lap me in soft Lydian airs. Married to immortal verse. — Mimon. Tm SK&LD'd TALISMAN The Skald was very weary, ■ For his days, beyond the span Of human life had lingered, And tho sands of life yet ran. He sat and watched the sunset, # O'er the mountains crowned with pine, Where, the western clouds gloom'd darkly Tipp'd with a goldon lino : And ho said, ' 0, would the sunset Of mine own life was as nigh, For I am weary, weary— Twould be sweet gain to die. Then he started, for his memory Flew back thro' bygone time, And he murmered over softly, A legend— in rude rhyme : That told his birth-hour's charming, In the far days of old, When the Norns stood by his cradle, And promised fame and gold ; And better far than either, The Skald's all-powerful tongue That in battle and at banquot Thro' so long a time had rung. But ho read with keener interest How the third Fate Maiden sworo, # That not this, but death should claim him E'er his first day's life was o'er. 1 When that torch of pine is ashes, When its flame has burnt away, Then his life Is surely over, And dono,hiß earthly day. But tho Nornir twain befriending Quenched the torches' ruddy light Bidding his mother guard it As a talisman of might : For while that torch still rested Unconsumed ; so should his life Be free from death in sickness, Death at sea, or death in strife. He took a catven casket From its niche within the wall ; With trembling hands, and eager, Found a pine torch, thin and small. ' It is dry, it burneth quickly, Not long now need I wait, For the joy and rest I pine for— For Vttlhall's open gate.' Strode to the clear red embers, The remnants of tho firo Half started as the flame shot up His own life's funeral pyre, Yes 1 his talisman buru'd swiftly, . Ho grasped his harp and Bang, And his voice that had charmed heroes With its old grand sweotness rang. Life, life, human life, Weary and bootless strife, Whao. the bright years are fled, When the sweet hopes are dead ; When the sad eyes grow dim, Feeble the once strong limb, life, life, weary life, Why linger out the strifo. Far in the long ago, Love in my heart did glow ; , Battle-fire thrilled my blood, As in the van I stood— Singing the fighting lays Of the old godlike days. Now is myblood grown cold As stream on frozen wold. Far in ttie long ago" I could weep tears of woe, How aro my tired eyes dry, And I loug but to die. Pie, for 1 know once moro, Joy as it thrilled of yore, At Odin'B side will be. ,' All Father ! welcome me ! < The Skald's white head sank lower Upon his chilling breast— The flaihp died out ; the sinking sun Redden'd when nearer rest ; The wind wailed round the casement, Swept aside the ashes white, There was rest within the chamber,— A sweet deep lest at night.