"I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest's shade

Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest
By the hawk frighted.

"Bright in her father's hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
Chanting his glory;

When of old Hildebrand

I asked his daughter's hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand
To hear my story.

"While the brown ale he quaffed,
Loud then the champion laughed,
And as the wind gusts waft

The sea foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking horn
Blew the foam lightly.

"She was a Prince's child,

I but a Viking wild,

And though she blushed and smiled

I was discarded!

Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea mew's flight,

Why did they leave that night
Her nest unguarded?

"Scarce had I put to sea,

Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she

Among the Norsemen !
When on the white seastrand,
Waving his armèd hand,

Saw we old Hildebrand,

With twenty horsemen.

"Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast,

Yet we were gaining fast,
When the wind failed us;
And with a sudden flaw
Came round the gusty Skaw,1
So that our foe we saw
Laugh as he hailed us,

"And as to catch the gale
Round veered the flapping sail,

Death! was the helmsman's hail,

Death without quarter!

Midships with iron keel

Struck we her ribs of steel;

Down her black hulk did reel
Through the black water!

"As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,
With his prey laden,
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,
Bore I the maiden.

1 Cape on northwest coast of Denmark.

"Three weeks we westward bore,
And when the storm was o'er,
Cloud-like we saw the shore
Stretching to leeward;
There for my lady's bower
Built I the lofty tower,
Which, to this very hour,

Stands looking seaward.

"There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears,

She was a mother;

Death closed her mild blue eyes,
Under that tower she lies;

Ne'er shall the sun arise

On such another!

"Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men,

The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear,

O, death was grateful!

"Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars,

Up to its native stars

My soul ascended!

There from the flowing bowl

Deep drinks the warrior's soul,

Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!" 1

1 In Scandinavia, the customary salutation in drinking a health.

STUDY HINTS

How many fine comparisons (i.e. similes) can you find in this poem? Has the poet made you feel the fierce, reckless character of the old Viking? Where does he show that he was capable of very tender feeling? What was his fate? Is this not a stirring ballad? Read it aloud and see if the swing of the verse adds to the effect. favorite stanzas, if not the entire poem.

Memorize two

SUGGESTIONS FOR ADDITIONAL READINGS

The Discoverer of the North Cape. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Leap of Roushan Beg. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Courtship of Miles Standish. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Old Clock on the Stairs. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Rain in Summer. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Children's Hour. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Arrow and the Song. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The Day is Done. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Lord Ullin's Daughter. Thomas Campbell.
Lochinvar (Marmion, Canto V). Sir Walter Scott.
Allan-a-Dale. Sir Walter Scott.

A Sea Song. Allan Cunningham.

For the teacher to read to the class:

Selections from Longfellow's The Building of the Ship.

THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS1

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) was born in Salem, Massachusetts. He was from early childhood fond of solitude, and of brooding upon tales of witchcraft and legends of the colonial days. Possibly young people know best his A Wonder Book, Tanglewood Tales, and Twice-Told Tales. His greatest romances are The Scarlet Letter, The House of the Seven Gables, and The Marble Faun. Many consider Hawthorne America's greatest prose writer. The moral truth and beauty of his stories stamp him as a writer of lofty ideals. See also: Halleck's History of American Literature, pp. 204-221, 283. Julian Hawthorne's Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife. George Woodberry's Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Bridge's Personal Recollections of Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Introduction to The Scarlet Letter.

CAPTAIN JOHN HULL was the mintmaster of Massachusetts, and coined all the money that was made there. This was a new line of business: for, in the earlier days of the colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. These coins being scarce, the people were often forced to barter their commodities instead of selling them.

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he perhaps exchanged a bearskin for it. If he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile of pine boards. Musket bullets were used instead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money, called wampum, which was made of clamshells; and this strange sort of specie was likewise taken

1 From Grandfather's Chair (1841). Used by permission of, and by arrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers of Hawthorne's works.