Verse Old and New.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 19, 7 May 1913, Page 71

Verse Old and New.

The Builders. LL are architects of Fate, f I Working in these walls of JjL Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low; 'Each thing in its place is best; And what seems byt idle show Strengthens and supports the rest. For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between. Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest cara Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere. Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwell. Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble where they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure,. With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To those turrents where the eye Sees the world, as one vase plain, And one boundless reach of sky. —Longfellow.

The Sea King's Burial. [The old Norse Kings, when about to die, had their body laid into a ship, the ship sent forth with sails set, and a slow fire burning in it, that once out to sea, it might blaze up in the flame, and in such a manner bury worthily the old hero at once in the sky and in the ocean.—Carlyle's "Hero Worship.”] "My strength is failing fast,” Said the Sea King to his men. "I shall never s'ail the seas Like- a conqueror again; But while yet a drop remains Of the life-blood in my veins Raise, oh, raise me from.my bed; Put the crown upon my head: Put niy good sword in my hand, And so lead me to the strand, Where my ship at anchor rides Steadily. If I can not end my life In the crimsoned battle strife, Let me die as I have lived, On the sea.” They have raised King Balder up, Put his crown upon his head; They have sheathed his limbs in mail, And the purple o'er him spread; And amid the greeting rude Of a gathering multitude, Borne him slowly to the shore—* All the energy of yore From lys dim eyes flashing forth— Old Sea Lion of the North, As he looked upon his ship Riding free; And on his forehead pale, Felt the cold, refreshing gale, And heard the welcome sound Of the sea.

They have borne him to the ship With a slow and solemn tread; They have placed him on the deck With his crown upon his head, Where he sat as on a throne; And have left him there alone. With his anchor ready weighed, And his snowy sails displayed to the favoring wind, once more Blowing freshly from the shore, And have bidden him farewell Tenderly, Saying: "King o f mighty men, We shall meet thee yet again. In Valhalla, with the monarchs Of the sea.” Underneath him in the hold They had placed the lighted brand; And the fire was burning slow As the vessel from the land. Like a stag-hound from the slips, Darted forth from out the ships. There was music in her sail As it swelled before the gale, And a dashing at her prow, As it cleft the waves below, And the good ship sped along, Scudding free; As on many a battle morn In her time she had been borne, To struggle and to conquer On the sea. And the King with sudden strength Started up and paced the deck, With his good sword for his stafEAnd his robe around his neck. Once alone he raised his hand To the people on the land; And with shout and joyous cry Once again they made reply, Till the loud, exulting cheer Sounded faintly on his ear; For the gale was o'er him blowing Fresh and free; And ere ■ yet an hour had passed He was driven before the blast, And a storm was on his path On the sea. “.So blow, ye tempests, blow, And my spirit shall not quail: I have fought with many a foe, And in this hour of death, Ere I yield my fleeting breath— Ere the fire now burning slow

Shall come rushing from below, And this worn and wasted frame Be devoted to the flame— I will raise my voice in triumph, Singing free ; To the great All Father’s home I am driving through the foam, O'er the sea. “So blow, ye stormy winds, And ye flames ascend on high; In easy, idle bed, Let the slave and coward die! But give me the driving keel, Clang of .shields, and flashing steel; Or my foot on foreign ground, With my enemy around! Happy, happy thus I'd yield, On the deck or on the field. My last breath shouting, ‘On To victory!’ But since this has been denied, They shall say that I have died Without flinching, like a monarch Of the sea.” And Balder spoke no more, And no sound escaped his lip;' f And he looked, yet scarcely saw, The destruction of his ship; Nor the fleet sparks mounting high, Nor the glare upon the sky; Scarcely felt the scorching heat That was gathering at his feet. Nor the fierce flames mounting o'er him Greedily. But the life was in him yet, And the courage to forget All his pain, in his triumph On the sea. Once alone, a cry arose, Half of anguish, half of pride, As ho sprang upon his feet, With the flames on every side. "[ am coming!” said the King, “Where the swords and bucklers ring—• Where the warrior lives again. Where the weary finds repose, .And the red wine ever flows; I am coming, .great All Father, Unto- thee! Unto Odin, unto Thor. And the strong, true hearts of yore, I am coming to Valhalla, O'er the sea.”

-Charles Mackay.