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Poems, translated and original cover

Poems, translated and original

Chapter 39: COMPLAINT OF HARALD.

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About This Book

A compact volume of translated and original lyric poems paired with a short tragic drama. The poems range from elegiac meditations on death, memory, and the fate of poets to vivid nature pieces about lakes, seas, and changing skies; they also include mythic and historical reflections, paraphrases of sacred texts, and shorter lyrical forms such as sonnets and songs. Recurrent concerns are remembrance versus oblivion, the consolations of landscape, poetic vocation, and the ceremonial practices surrounding burial, while the concluding tragedy adapts a Venetian incident into dramatic scenes.

COMPLAINT OF HARALD.

IMITATED FROM AN ICELANDIC SONG.

My gallant ship a rich freight bore

Around Sicilia’s tideless shore;

Laden with gold and warriors brave

With rapid keel she ploughed the wave;

We woo’d the fresh’ning breeze in vain—

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!

Strong in the pride of youthful might,

Stern Drontheim’s troops I quelled in fight;

Dire was the conflict, ’mid the throng,

While pealed the war shouts loud and long:

I slew their chieftain;—still in vain

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!

I’ve stemmed the troublous ocean’s tide,

And met the tempest in its pride;

When darkly scowled the foaming deep,

My bark has cleft the billows’ sweep.

Full dangerous were my toils and vain;

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!

With graceful arm I rein the steed,

Unmatched in courage as in speed

I skim the ice; and dextrous wield

The dripping oar, and lance and shield.

I forge the weapon; yet in vain

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!

I’m skilled to lead the hunter’s chase,

Each Runic character I trace;

I bear the gift of godlike fire,

To wake the glories of the lyre.

Its magic chords but speak in vain;

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!

Stern Norway’s highlands claim my birth;

My arms have conquered Southern earth.

In desert wilds my banners play,

And the wide seas confess my sway.

A reckless victor still in vain

I mourn a Russian maid’s disdain!