I THE STORY OF THE SWORD >♦#•»«♦»« ^ ^ > •> ■> '^ ^ ^ ^ ■" Cornell University Library PR S671.T244A7 Arvan, or. The story of the sword, a poem 3 1924 013 564 285 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013564285 AUY AN; OK, THE STORY OF THE SWOED. ARVA N: OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. HERBERT TODD, M.A., LATE OF TRINITY COLLKGE, CAMHRIDGE. Henry S. King & Co., 65 CORNHILL, & 12 PATf:RNOSTER RoW, LoNDON. 1875- V. CONTENTS. Canto I., . . . . Page 1 II., . „ 17 III., . „ 43 IV., . . „ 60 v., . „ 76 VI., „ 96 VII., . . „ 116 VIII., . ■ \, 136 IX., „ 156 X., . „ 176 XL, ... „ 195 XII., . „ 215 XIII., .... „ 2:38 XIV., .... ,,266 XV., . . . „ 283 XVI., . . „ 302 XVII., .. 321 vi CONTENTS. Canto XVIII., Page 339 7} XIX., ' „ 362 If XX., „ 381 J XXI., „ 405 )J XXII., „ 421 ?J XXIII., „ 451 XXIV., „ 469 ARYAN; OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. CANTO I. The Chiefs had met in the high palace hall ; For the great king held regal feast that night. Round him were gathered all his mighty men, Foremost in thought, or deed, through all the world ; Some wise-browed, thoughtful-visaged, seamed and worn, With their long wrestle with the sleepless years ; Wearers of the dread silver crown, old men, White-bearded, with calm luminous eyes, whose gaze Saw far into the future ; Councillors Were these of Arvan, highest in the realm, Who gave wise laws unto the sons of men : Others with massive fronts, and eagle eyes, And strong-set mouths, whose faces yet were full Of the red light of battle : these had been In many a deadly conflict : death had looked Into their eyes nor seen an eyelid droop. Grand stalwart forms were theirs, towerlike and vast, That though unarmoured, in their own great strength Seemed yet arrayed for strife. Others were crowned With jewelled diadems, whose many stones, A 2 ARYAN; Fired into splendour by the cresset's flame, Blazed like star-gems upon the brow of night ; For these were kings ruling o'er wide-spread lands, Over the arid regions, where the sun Parches the earth with his too-fervent gaze ; Over the northern realms, where ice eterne Fetters the lands with spring-unbroken chains ; Some, lords of desolate mountains, and the reach Of lone sea-shores, or holding 'neath their sway Sea-claspfed isles ; others, men-ruling kings, Monarchs of populous cities, and of realms Teeming with life ; yet, subject unto him, Arvan, the king, whose sceptre over all Stretched like a present fate. High on a throne Glistening with ivory, and overlaid With curious fretted work of burning gold, Flashing forth crimson light, or sapphire blaze, Or emerald gleams, or opal iris-flash, Or diamond splendours from a thousand gems. Sat the dread monarch in his lonely state. The majesty of power uncontrolled Was on his brow, and in his eye the strength All undisturbed of one whose will was law. Stately his form ; massive and strong of limb As that of one of those stern images, That sits in granite strength, solemn and still. On Ari's burning plains, reared up by hands That now are dead, in honour of her kings. Far o'er his shoulders flowed, in ruddy waves. The scarlet mantle, sign of sovereign sway, Crusted with gold embroidery. Its folds Parting in front, as when gold sunset clouds, OR, THE SIORY OF THE SWORD. ^ 8 Dividing, show a glimpse of wintry sky, Eevealed the warrior breast, even at the feast Bucklered with steel, that cast a chilly gleam Blue, deathlike, down the haU. Whilst at his side Shone with its own great light the diamond hilt Of the charmed sword, the sword hy demons given ; The sword to which he owed his mighty sway And dread renown, and victory's wreath of pine. For in the days gone by (so runs the tale). He had been hunting in the forest dim. That with primeval gloom o'erclouds the lands That front the northern seas. Then no wide realm Was his, such as he ruled in later days. Nor with his warrior name the high renown, That made the word a battle-cry that drew Triumph where'er it echoed, had been linked. Only a king of winter-palsied lands Populous,- far-stretched beneath the northern heavens Was Axvan then, mad lover of the chase, Facing all hardships when the antlered deer. Or tusky boar, or the grim sullen bear Drew him from peopled lands into the waste. And on a day, he, severed from his train. In fleet pursuit of some wind-footed stag. Had passed away, far from the haunts of men. Into the grey depths of the forest old. That clasps the man-tiUed plains. Eound him vast trunks Of mighty pines rose naked through the gloom. Striving towards heaven's light. Their sombre crests. High up an hundred feet in air, close-woven One with another, a dense roof of green. Kept off from the cold earth the rain of rays ARYAN; Even of the summer sun. A temple vast Seemed the great wood ; its sombre roof upheld On countless shafts of bronze. And 'neath the shade O'er the space left betwixt the pine-trees stems, Even till the sun sunk low in the blue heavens, Eode Arvan on. Till, seeing night was near, He called his fleet hounds from their vain pursuit, Sprang from his horse, and with his front abased. Touching the ground, spread forth his suppliant hands, And prayed the sunset prayer. For in those days Men bow^d yet unto the One Supreme, Nor worshipped carvfed images, nor knelt Unto vain things fashioned by hands of clay ; So to the Lord of Day, and to the Moon Who silver-throned ruleth the silent hours ; And to the uncounted stars, that nightly flame In the blue plains of heaven, rose all the prayers From human hearts, erring not from their path. Nor seeking unto gods, that are no gods. And Arvan, when his orisons were paid, Fastened his charger to the barfed stem Of a tall tree ; then laid him down to rest. But when the first grey gleams of dawning day Uncertain glimmered through the forest shade, Showing the gaunt stems, spectre-like and vast As shadowy phantoms of the world long dead ; He rose from his deep rest that knew no dreams, And through the forest wended slowly back, Seeking the peopled regions, whence he came. Now as he wended through the sunless glades, Threading a lone vale in the mountain chain, That from the savage lands sundered his realm, OR, THIS STORY OF THE SWORD. 5 Sudden he came, turning a rocky point, Unto the base of a sky-seeking cliff, That beetling rose o'er the green world of pines, Its broad front bathed in the rose light of dawn, While the great ocean of thick foliage tossed Its numberless waves, with a weird sea-like sound, Beneath its naked flanks. The mighty form With all its rude magnificence of strength, Scarce for an instant fixed the monarch's eyes ; For at its base, upon the emerald slope. Which stretched even to the margin of the wood, Girt in on every side by countless pines. That stood in circle round the precipice. Like crested chiefs, that wait armed for the strife, Obedient to a mightier lord's commands, He marked, stretched on the dewy glistening grass, Two beings, strange of aspect, whose swart limbs And stunted forms spake them of spirit race. Secure in fancied freedom from all fear Of man's detested presence, in the light Of the young dawn they stretched their uncouth shapes Far from the cavern's mouth, whose deep black gloom Veiled the descent to the dim under-world. Where was their home. And Arvan, swift of thought. Spurred on his charger 'twixt them and the cave. Then drew his sword, cutting off all retreat. And they, who have strength in their rocky home. But are aU powerless in the light of day, Though lovers of its beams, confest themselves Unfit to strive with him, a mortal bom. Though they were monarchs of the inner gloom ; For that he, being man, was lord of earth. 6 ARYAN; And 'neath the sky had might to quench their spells ; Their limbs too, strongly muscled as they were, Yet short, deformed, availed them not to fly. So, with low bending knee, in suppliant guise. With hands close clasped, entreating, and with looks Petitioning unto his feet they crept. And he, undaunted, waited their approach. Though his gaunt hounds, scared by the gobKn shapes, With stiffened hair, and staring eyes of flame. Fled howling to the woods. Then said the king, " Spirits, ye are my slaves ! See, I could bind Your limbs, and take you from your cavern'd joys To the detested homes of mortal men ; There should ye pine, even as axe-felled trees. That, stript of bark, are borne by the great strength Of labouring oxen unto towns of men. Pine for the forest homes they see no more. But — for I would not make your lives a curse — Hearken to that I offer. Ye may yet Purchase your freedom, working my commands. Fashion for me a falchion to my will ; Its shining hilt shall be of diamond stone ; Its blade, pure gold, shall shine even as the sun. Dazzling with its bright beams weak human eyes ; Its sharp edge shall avail to cleave the rocks As though they were but water ; from its sheath It never shall be drawn but a man's life Shall by its power be quenched ; swift victory Shall follow him who wields it in the fight, So that its master shall be lord of earth. Such shall my sword be. Ye can fashion it, For that I know ye have all spirit-power ; OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. And ye shall swear by that dread oath, that binds The mountain-spirits even to loathM tasks, To bring it to me when a moon hath fled. In the same hour, upon the selfsame day, In this same place, as ransom for your lives. Or ye shall pine in chains for evermore." They saw the king's eye unacquaint with fear, And knew his heart was harder than their rocks. So swore to work his will. He drew aside, And in the cavern's gloom they disappeared. Swift fled the month on fleet, pontrasted wings ; This white, that sable, given by day and night ; And at the appointed hour the king returned. The spirits, faithful to their oath, were there, And in their hands they bore the magic sword. But, ere they gave the weapon to his hand. They spake to him : "See thou our pledge redeemed, Great king ! and the dread sword awaits thy grasp. Yet fear thou still to claim it, though 'tis thine j For if thou dost despise our warning given, Know well that all the guilt and misery That surely follow spring from thee alone. See, the fair hilt is of one diamond stone ; And the bright blade, fashioned of purest gold, Shines as the sun ; and, hardened by our spells. It shall divide the rocks even as the wave ; Ne'er shall the blade be drawn from out its sheath But some life shall be closed ; swift victory Waiteth on him who wields it, like a slave. Yet, if thou take unto thyself the sword, Know it will bring, in some far future hour. Mightiest of woes upon thy realm and thee." 8 ARYAN; The king, who, with a curling lip of scorn, Had silent waited till the dwarfs were still, Stretched forth his hand upon the diamond hilt. " Mine be the sword," he said ; " I fear not Fate." Theh, as the impulse came on him to prove The magic falchion's strength, he plunged the blade Deep in the hard breast of the granite cliff, And drew it forth unscathed ; but the dwarfs fled Through the cave's mouth down to the undergloom.- Now, from the day when Arvan won the sword, So said the voice of Fame, a mighty change Came o'er his spirit. He no longer cared, As in the 'former years, to wage fierce war Incessant with the wild things of the earth : His strength was turned against the nations now. And the wide race of men became his prey. Land after land lay powerless at his feet, Crushed by the stern king and his pitiless glaive ; In vain the nations flung their hoarded wealth ; In vain with eager hope or grim despair. They hurled their very lives into War's chasm, That gaped before them eager to devour ; For that abyss closed never. Ceaselessly, With an augmenting rage, more widely yawned The life-destroying plague ; and all that earth Had then of beautiful, or brave, or good. Was swallowed up in the deep, ghastly grave. But Arvan's name became a word of fear ; And Arvan's throne became exalted high Above all warrior thrones that were on earth. — And Arvan from the latest of his wars Had now returned. Myriads of foemen's lives OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 9 Lay crushed beneath the red destroying wheels Of his triumphal car. From fairest cheeks The light had waned, quenched in griefs bitter tears ; And wild-eyed widows wailed their slaughtered mates ; And little starving children sireless mourned ; And mothers, weeping o'er their lifeless sons, Would not be comforted ; and all the land Lay charred and black, scathed by the fiery scourge, Black as a forest in the unpeopled lands O'er which the desolating flame hath past ; For in those days, who faced the northern sword Perished before the sharpness of its steel. Nor hitherto breathed there a king on earth. Who, haught of heart, arraying him for war, Had gazed on Aryan's face nor turned and fled. So Aryan triumphed. On his lofty throne Silent and graye he sat ; cheerful of heart. Though smiling not his pleasure : for he knew Men's souls were filled with a yet deeper awe Through this new conquest. His a warrior mind, Brave, strong as iron, feeling not a whit. Hard was he, eyen as the granite ro:k In nature, being a mighty conqueror ; Nor thought he took that men's homes were laid waste. Nor heeded children's cries, nor widows' tears, Knowing such things must be upon the earth. So the red blood that, wheresoe'er he past On his yictorious way, flowed in dark streams, Crimsoning the lands with soil-enriching tides. To him was as the unregarded wave That through some mountain wild, unmarked of men. Steals onward to the main. Mighty was he, 10 ARYAN: Chiefest of all the warrior-kings that were, Swift with the sword, sent of the gods to slay. So the sad realm which Arvan had o'ercome Mourned low in ashes ; and the red wine flowed, In honour of that mighty victory. Freely as the red blood by which 'twas won. Thus past the hours, until the first pale gleams, Silvery and pure, of the approaching morn, Stole on the lurid radiance of the hall, Gently, as steal the first sweet thoughts of love Into a hot heart filled with hate and strife. Then rose the king. High over all the guests Towered his imperial form, as the Ur peak. Its shoulders crimson with the sunset glow. Shows o'er the lesser hills that gird him round. Instant to left and right, from brazen throats Of clamorous trumpets, stormed tempestuous blasts. Commanding silence, and a great voice cried, " The king hath risen." Then, while o'er all the throng Sank a death silence, the great monarch spoke, " Kings, nobles, chieftains, ye, who at my side Have faced rejoicing the gaunt spectre War, And tamed his terrors ; victors from the strife Ye have once more returned. I will not thank The loyal hearts, who are my kingdom's guard. For thanks, howe'er expressed, are payment still, And I would have free service from the free. Nor will I vaunt your courage often proved. Courage to strong hearts is its own reward. But I would ask you to behold the work ' Wliich your keen swords and your strong arms have wrought. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. H From the White Sea to where the southern waves Ripple in sunlight on the golden shore, No hostile flag flaunts its defiance now. Our own good blades have beaten down the realms, Captives or slain are they who were our foes. Stormed are their utmost mountain fortresses, Nerveless the strong arms which defied our might. And the proud hearts, all tamed, have sued for peace. Only the western king still dares our wrath, Relying on his unattempted strength And multitudinous hosts of armM men. But his last hour has struck. He from his throne Far-shining, wide-renowned, flung to the dust Shall own his Lord. For, Chieftains, unto me White peace is loathed, while yet a foe remains To mock my power. I am the lord of earth. The nations have been given unto my sword, Like meat unto the prey-beasts' shining teeth ; Their lands are tilled of them with weary toil, And bring forth fruit to store my granaries. Their kings are but my servants, who bear sway While I permit ; but when I frown, retire Into the mass of undistinguished slaves. Who do my bidding, fearing much my wrath. Have not Ivora's chiefs stooped to my sway ? Valiant and wise were they, foremost in fight, Their men of war in wolf-like multitudes Darkened the land, wasting where'er they past. Lo ! they are fallen, and their thrones are void. Have not wide Ari's kings, with countless hosts Of quiver-bearing men, assailed our realm, Trusting to drag our banners in the dust ? 12 ARYAN; Where are the dark kings and their locust swarms Of arrow-darters now ? Last the great lord, Whose iron sceptre ruled the sunny lands, Dared, vain of heart, to match his strength with ours. He came, with myriads on fleet-footed steeds, . Shaking the earth beneath their thunder-path ; He came with iron-fenced ranks of men. Their lances showed afar off like a wood Of pines unnumbered on the ragged flanks Of the Ur mountains, when the glittering stars O'er-twinkle them, like well-ground points of steel. He came, he met us on the battle-plain, His hosts were trampled down into the slime, Red with much blood of men. He a chained slave Waiteth in dungeon for the death decree. Far o'er the plains his chariots fled away ; His people fled. Vain was their maddened speed. For the swift sword o'ertook them in their flight. Now may the wolves and bears flesh their white fangs Upon the mighty men. Upon the hills. And through the vales, they in their shining arms. Lay thick as drops upon the autumn grass, When the white fog deserts the misty plain. But our last task remains. This king must fall — Emeth, who, being harnessed for the fight, Vaunteth himself our equal. He must fall. To your strong arms and warrior hearts I trust. Chieftains, his chastisement. Then shall the world Be subject unto us from shore to shore, And the vexed nations shall at last have rest. Chieftains, the battle-feast hath touched its end. Hath it not been our custom from of old Off, THE STORY OF THE SWOUD. i:i To serve the gods, who from the heights of heaven Rule o'er the subject fates of mortal men ] Therefore I bid you to the sacrifice That in the mid-day hour is offered up To the bright god who grants us victory. See ye the grey dawn even now doth break. Soon on his golden car the god will rise And look propitious on his worshippers. Chieftains, at the dread mount of sacrifice We meet again." Then raisfed he his hand In token of dismissal, as of old Hath been the custom with the northern kings. Up rose the warrior crowd. A mighty shout From out their bearded lips rang through the hall, Making the smoke-dyed rafters in the roof Vibrate with that great cry, " Live long, oh ! king." Then, through the yawning doors, the goodly stream Of mighty men poured out into the day : They moved along, rejoicing in their strength. As when the ice, around the northern pole. Bound by the Frost -king, breaks its winter's rest When the spring sun returns; then through the straits, 'Twixt the high cliffs, the towering icebergs pass, With crests aU jewelled by the solar rays; So moved the glittering crowd forth from the hall. But Arvan, with his chosen men of war, And prudent counsellors, and aged men. Had through an inner portal past in state Into his room of council, there to build. Through warrior thought, the broad-based plan of war That should avail to tame the warlike West. Thus purposed Arvan, to await the hour U ARYAN; When he should don the crown, and take the sword Of sacrifice, seeking the sacred hill. Without, the people argued much of war ; For all the feasters, ere they sought their homes, Spake largely of the strife. And of the young. Many desired war, hoping in the fray To win fame by the smitings of their swords. And also wealth ; for youth hopes ever much, Being yet full of the fierce fire of life. Nor taking thought of failure, nor of death. But in the greybeards' hearts, who through long days Of varying existence, thinking much. Had marked life and its changes, other thoughts, Unsanguine, of the western war had place. For they forboded ill. And Morar said, " Heard ye the king 1 he meditates new war. Surely he loveth strife." Karlak replied, " What wonder though he love it passing well ? Did we not drink from gold within the hall 1 — Of yore we drank from silver." To him spake His fellow, " We have yellow for the white ; But the changed colour, it hath cost much blood." Then Oron, rich in ships and merchandise. Who walked beside them, listening to their speech. Took up the word, and said, "Arvan is brave, And hath prevailed greatly o'er his foes. The kingdom is increased through his might. And much gain grows therefrom to trading men, Peaceful, whose souls shun the red fields of war. Yet let him take heed, for the path of strife Is full of chances strange. Even strong men On its rough, slippery ways have sudden reeled. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 1.1 « Fallen, and yielded unto others place, Being of fate down-trodden in the mire. "\Miat unto others hath aforetime chanced, Lightly may come to him. The steel-tipped spear. That oftentimes hath stricken through the shield. Being o'er-used, fuU oft breaketh at last." Thus musM the old men, considering Ufe With age-informfed eyes. Talking at large Of war and its events, that strangely chance, In mode all undivined of human heart. Unskilled to read the future in the past. Meantime, through all the city's populous ways. In palace homes adorned with much gold. Marbles, and tapestry, exceeding fair. Such as the heart of man delights in much; Also in huts and dwellings of the poor. Where unregarded men are born and die, From age to age; none noting of their birth, Nor of their deaths, for that their worth is scant, The voice of wailing from the women rose. Mothers lamented for their lovely sons. Strong like to gods, who, born with extreme pain, Had much rejoiced their hearts through many days. But whom their fear saw slain by the swift steel. In distant lands ; feeding the vulture's greed. Or rent by the wild beast's defacing claws ; — Therefore their hearts lamented, being sad. And unto those who comforted, they said, Keplying, for their souls would not regard Accents of consolation, or of hope — " What is the pine-wreath of red war to us. That kings and warrior-men, spilling much blood. 16 ARYAN; Eejoice in having won 1 For that they die, Our fair young sons. Upon a hundred plains The bones of Northmen whiten on the sand. Yet there did Arvan conquer. 'Tis the same Whene'er he warreth, overthrowing kings. Why should we then delight us in his war ; Wherefrom he wins power and large wealth of fame, Given by lips, which things he doth desire, Wherefrom we gain but loss 1 Why should we joy ? This war will be as others that have been : Surely he conquers ; but our children die.'' OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 17 CANTO II. King Arvan sat in his great council hall, Girt by his war-men and wise councillors ; Erect he sat upon the counsel stone, Waiting to hear the truth-words. For of old It had been 'stablished by the laws of men, That when the greyheads and the war-chiefs met In solemn conclave for the kingdom's weal, The king should on the counsel rock be throned : (A massive fragment was the rock, of yore, Torn from the great cliiF, whose precipitous height Columned with basalt, lifts its awful head O'er the black waves that scourge the northern shore) ; So when the wise men or the warriors spake Words of grave prudence, then the king should heaf, This was the meaning of the basalt throne, The counsel, even though grievous, with a heart Firm as the basalt throne whereon he sat. Silent round Arvan sat the leaders now, Like to the shapes, which in the hall of gods Each on his golden seat, crowned with light. In his right hand bearing the golden wand Wherewith they have sway over earthly lives. Sit before Ur, father of gods and men, Eldest of all existences that are, B 18 ARVAN; Who, through all years, upon the azure throne. Made of one sapphire, sits and ruleth all. Thus sat they waiting for their monarch's speech, For that they knew that he would utter words, Weighty and worthy to be thought upon. Then Arvan op'd the portals of his lips, Uttering words, while those worn warrior chiefs And grey-haired men, eager, with ears attent, Drank in his speech, as the wide silent waste Of herbless sand, that bucklers Ari's heart, Drinks in the dews of the o'erarching heavens. " Chieftains," he said, " ye, who have oft in fight Buttressed the failing fortunes of the day With hearts more fearless than your own good swords ; And ye, grey councillors, whom the wise gods, Propitious, from the aU-devouring waves Of wasting time, have, for our kingdom's weal. Out of the general wreck of earthly things. Guarded to teach truth to the later days, Arvan the king, claimeth your counsel now. Touching this war, whose dark menacing waves Like the arising billows of a flood. Break on the threatened landmarks of the West. Speak ! the king's ears are open." Then a calm Sank thoughtful on the leaders of the war. And on the aged men, while, wise of heart. They pondered thoughts that might avail the land. Not long the silence lasted. Then arose Moran the Agfed. On his reverent head An hundred years and four their snows had cast. In days long fled, he too upon his thigh Had girt the warrior sword, and sought to slay ; OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. But the pale winters of a lifetime now Had iced his blood, that thawed not when the spring Rose-bright came down to earth, wakener of floweris, Giver of fervent life. Him nevermore The tide of fight should see, parting those waves, Whose shining crest is steel, even as a man, Strong swimming, parts with brawny practised arms The ridged ocean-mounds. Ne'er would his voice, ^Vhose roar was heard above the battle din, Even as a bear's roar rises o'er the rage Of the great whirlpool, fire the warrior's breast Into prevailing fury. Far behind Lay the great deeds, that in his earlier days Rose high in heaven's light, and drew the eyes Of the earth-sons. War-deeds of lesser chiefs Were now in all men's lips, but his forgot, Or seen dim in the distance, giant shapes. Viewed through the gathering mists of many years ; Even as to him who journeys through the vale That leadeth downward to the inland sea. Show the Pale Mountain's summits high in heaven, " Arvan," he said, for in the council hall The king wore not his title, but men spake As equals with each other, knowing that Which had been uttered in the ancient days, " Wisdom is better than a crown of gold." " Arvan, thou seekest to adore the sun, When the great orb hath dipt below the wave. What room remains for counsel when thy voice Even now hath said the steel-unsheathing word Decreeing war ? Far better had it been Haddest thou first, even as thy mighty sires. 20 ARVAN; Ta'en counsel of the wise men of the realm ; Nor with thine own hand barred the silver doors Of peace, and oped the iron gates of war. Yet hearken to my speech, for I have seen Both many years, and changes upon earth ; And though not honeys weet, my words have truth. Thou lovest war too fiercely. Many years Has thy sword raged over the wasted world, Eating up realms, making the earth-sons mourn. Just is red war, waged on a nation's foe ; Nor is hot battle hateful to my heart, For I, too, chieftains, though this arm is now Wasted, and fallen my strength, once led the hosts Of shield-uplifting men. Nor is my blade. Though eaten with the rust of many years, Unknowing how to spill red blood of men. Nor hath the foe e'er looked on Moran's back, For dear the strife-storm was unto his soul, And the red rose of battle-fields a joy. But thou, oh ! Arvan, lovest nought save war. White-fronted peace is banished from thy realm ; Thou dost not strike against a single land ; Lo ! all the nations are thine enemies, And, where there breathes a man, there is thy foe. Yet be thou warned in time, though loving strife. Not always victors from the battle-field Do the war-lovers turn. As yet thy sword Hath struck resistance down, as the white bolt, Launched by the angry sun-god, beats to earth The acorn-crownfed monarch of the woods ; But all men live under the jealous stars, Who give not unto any child of man OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 21 To wear the crown of unredeemed success ; But, or they send to him reverse in arms, Or do a£3ict him with great grief of heart. Or pining sickness wastes his life away. Thou triumphest, great Axvan, haught of heart : Yet know thou surely other days draw nigh ; Nor ever rose the ocean on the flood But the ebb surely followed. Be thou warned, If all too late it be to bind in chains The war-hounds thou hast loosed, whose awful mouths Are hungry clamouring for a mortal prey, Bid thou the strife cease and recal the chase. When the great West king, driven into his realm, Like a grim bear forced to his inmost cave, Meaning to rend his foes, turneth to bay. Tread not the war-path to its utmost verge ; Cross not the yellow river of the West ; For that beyond the stream rule other gods. Who bow not to the North gods' warrior sway. And pale defeat waits all who pass the wave." He ceased ; and all the listeners drew a long deep breath Of sweet relief, for that the words were harsh. Stirring men's hearts like to a funeral knell. Then the king spoke again : " Chiefs, ye have heard Moran the Agfed's counsel. Is it good 1 " He ceased ; and on his right hand Nardon rose ; Sprung from the giant race, who, in old days, Smote with unsparing swords the weary earth : Soul of the strife was he, slayer of men. Low o'er his brow hung his black shaggy hair ; His dusky beard involved his breadth of face, Covering the cheek-bones even to the eyes : 22 ARYAN; Fierce eyes were they, that, through the narrow rift Left 'twixt the hair and beard, glared hungry forth j As the keen winter stars, tearless and bright. Gaze through a chasm betwixt black pine-tree boughs. To him the wise men and the chiefs gave heed, For that his mace devoured lives of men ; But some among the gray-haired, gentler-browed Than were their fellows, wore a troubled look. As though they loathed his words, for they knew well That his harsh counsel ever dripped with blood. Then Nardon spake : " Moran is wise," he said, " But Moran 's days are many. He hath store Of patient wisdom, hived in the long years ; But the hot heart of warfare-loving men Is his no more. Let Moran teach wise laws Unto the sons of men. In the black ranks Of shielded men his place is vacant now. Time, like a mighty chasm, doth lie between Him and the strife-fields of his earlier days ; And his faint eyes, dim with the toil of years, Unsurely see across the far abyss. But, Arvan, hear my words ; for they are truth. I counsel, seeing that the western king Submits not to thy will, and dares the war, I counsel that we smite, and do not spare. Spill their red blood on earth ! Why should we stay ? What ! are their swords soft-hearted unto us. That we should sheathe ours when the fight is won ] Let the glaive eat up their young men, and all Their men of war. Let the rough soldier drag, From where they crouch down by their parents' knees, With pale, fair faces, and much wealth of hair. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 23 Their virgins, shrieking, to captivity. I-et the wild mothers o'er their slaughtered babes Howl lamentation, cursing the dread skies, Who watch earth's woes, unheeding. It is well That they should suffer who have lost the day. So had they usfed us, had our swords failed. Lo ! Moran's words are weak. He bids us spare Whom we have smitten. See ! the thought is vain ; For the crushed nation must be friend or foe. And should we smite them sore, and then draw off, Leaving them mortal foes, yet unsubdued, That were as though the hunter should retire From the light-wounded, whelpless lioness, And in her angry presence woo repose. But if Moran would say, ' Refrain from war, When the red strife is won ; winning their hearts By showing mercy:' Learn, the thought is vain. For hearts deep pierced do never lightly heal ; And conquered men will hate their conquerors, And mercy maketh but faint friends at best. Hear, Aivan ; for my thought is wiser far : Let us arise, and grapple with the foe ; And if our good swords conquer, quench the life Of the strong realm in blood for evermore; For the slain foe vexes no man again." Dashing his hand upon the council-board, He sat down, greatly frowning; for the thought Of war had stirrfed up the unslumbering wrath. Coiled like a serpent in his savage soul. But o'er the room an awful silence sank ; For even warrior-hearts were half subdued, Calmed by the unchained fury of his tone. •24 ARVA.Y; It was as when a lion's angry roar Shakes the dark purple cavern of the night: All lesser cries of various-speaking beasts Are hushed, and earth is quiet as a tomb. Then Arvan spake again, " Chiefs, ye have heard Nardon, the Slayer's counsel ; is it good 1 " And ere the echo of the words had ceased, Facing the strong-limbed giant, rose a chief. Youngest of all was he, who, wise of heart, Or strong of hand, spake in the council-hall. Lygrul, the son of Cardol, silver-speeched. Yet swift in war to wield the burnished blade. ■ Keen, watching eyes were his, Ijmx-like and bright, That seemfed not to see when seeing most. Thin was his face, and thoughtful ; though the years Had graved few wrinkles on the pale, clear brow That gleamed forth from his bright, brown wealth of hair, Like a chalk-cliff, that jutteth boldly forth Out of the bright, brown wealth of autumn woods. Lean were his cheeks, the mouth quiet, and hard. With the lips firmly pressed, as though they feared That some true word might pierce unto men's ears. Nor hand nor foot he moved, when that he spake. And a great quiet reigned on all his face. But his was as the quiet of the grave, Which, through the long years, uttereth no sound. Yet eateth more men than a beast of prey. "Arvan," he said, "and ye, assembled chiefs, Mighty to rule, wise-hearted, strong in fight, Over the realms your prowess hath subdued, III it beseems me, who am young in days. To speak in presence of the grey-haired ones OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. -2 Whom the years, rich in ■wisdom, have endowed With knowledge that doth fit them, being men, To rule, even as gods, the sons of earth. Nor is my sword renowned in the war, Cunning to break the ranks of shielded men, And turn their best to flight, like Nardon's sword, Kater of warriors, terror of the foe : Yet would I pray your patience for a while ; For that the wise gods, for a kingdom's weal. Do not unseldom put a prudent word Into a young man's mouth, bidding him speak. Lo ! now, touching this war. Arvan hath said That the realm needeth war; therefore, 'tis well. For Arvan's heart is wise, he judgeth right. Nor would he plunge his kingdom into strife Wanting just cause and fit. Yet Moran saith. Whose head is whiter than the silver snow. That rests through winter days on the blanched peaks Of the Ur Mountains, Moran, wise of heart, Whose thoughts are taught him of the all-wise gods, Saith that he counseUeth not ceaseless war ; And Moran's words, oh, Arvan ! are not weak. For unchecked war is as a reinless steed. Which bears its rider fleetly o'er the waste With fury unrestrained, but in the end Flingeth to earth his lord, a lifeless corpse ; Therefore 'tis well that war should sometimes cease. Yet not such war as doth increase the realm. And for this storm of conflict that doth now Summon its menacing clouds in black array, I counsel that we face it with brave hearts. Nor cease tiU the tamed foe sueth for peace; 26 ARYAN: Then keep we still the great advantage won By the sharp northern sword that striketh well. Yea ! let us grant peace to them, a wise peace Given out of mercy to a vanquished foe ; Yet given in truth through guile to break his strength, And bring his people very low and weak, And waste like hidden poison all the life Of the brave race, till armfed courage fails. iSo on occasion fitting we may goad The foe, slow-mined by enervating peace, To ill-advised renewal of the war ; Then with sapped courage, weaponless and weak. Lightly we shall o'ercome him. He shall be Like a bear trapped in a hidden pit That haply if hard prest in the hot chase, Mighty in fangs and claws would rend the hounds ; But being taken slily unawares Helpless is butchered by the hunter men." He paused, and when no more the soft sweet voice Stirred the great quiet of the counsel hall, It was as when a tuneful silver bell. That hath been speaking, suddenly is still. So when the great king spoke again, his voice After that sweet low melody of words. Broke on the ear like avalanche's roar On the soft murmur of a mountain rill ; And Arvan said again, " Chiefs, ye have heard Lygrul the crafty's counsel, is it good ]" Then on the right hand slowly there arose From his oak council chair, hung with the spoils Of spotted pard, ta'en in the southern war, A chief of mighty fame, friend of the king. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. Swarthy his face in hue. His massive brows, Ridged high with many cells of stored thought, Showed like to unsmooth giant-builded walls, Whose awful strength towers o'er the subject plains ; His keen clear eyes filled with a spirit-fire, Unwildered by the tumult of near Ufe, Such gift of prescience had he from the gods. Saw that which shall be ere its birth in time. His high and resolute nose from out the face Eose, as the bronze beak of a ship of war Juts from the rounded prows. Beneath, the moutli Eested in strength, with firm and unpressed lips, Supported by the massive jaw below. Such were the mighty features of the face ; Yet was the head not vast, but small and fine. And on the neck set with a delicate poise. Inclining to the left, even as a man's Who listens heedful for a far off sound ; Strong was the neck, even as a mountain bull's That doth endure unscathed the furious jar. When, fired to madness by the fervent spring. With broad homed front, madly he smiteth down All rivals who essay his herded cows. Now the defect which Irach had from birth — Whence his foes called him " Irach the deformed" — Was grievous unto Irach's soul in youth, And in the chambers of his heart he said : Though the head slant upon the neck is set. It shall think wiser thoughts than the weU-poised, Bringing yet huger honours to its lord. And though they cry " Deformed," it shall be seen In the front ranks of man-destroying war. 28 ARVAN; When the sleek slanderers' straight forms keep afar. And this thought had impelled him, as a spur Dashed in the galled flanks of a generous steed, Drives it against the lances of the foe. So that his mind ruled in the council-room. And his sword mightily prevailed in fight, Till he was honoured of all men that lived ; And they said, whensoe'er his name was named, " Irach the Mighty !" "While his voice prevailed To sway the changeful fortunes of the realm More than ten myriad cries of lesser men. " Arvan," he said, " wise men, and warrior chiefs, Moran hath spoken ; others have said well ; Yet may some error mingle with their speech. Which he who listeneth lightly may discern ; For even the gem's clearness shows the flaw But more distinctly unto watchful eyes. Suffer me then to speak words in your ears, Which dawned, I listening, on my anxious mind. Lo ! for the war, it cometh, therefore now Is need thereof no more of counsel words. For Arvan's war-sword, even now unsheathed Shines outstretched menacingly towards the West, Nor may it be re-scabbarded. 'Tis ours Only to counsel of the form of strife. Not whether strife shall be. Arvan, whom Heaven Made lord of lands and nations, as thy sword, Like to the sword of Ur, hath overthrown Realms in the former days, so yet again, It smiting, shall thy foe be overthrown. Lo ! when thy will is worked, and triumph smiles Sunlike upon the armies of thy land. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 29 What thought shall then be chosen of our souls ] Should we refrain our warriors from pursuit 1 Should we restrain our fleet, victorious hosts, When triumph, spoil of war, is won at last, Nor suffer them to pass the western stream ? This were to leave the foe, stung with defeat, Unmaimed in vigour, like a spurnfed snake. That deadly-fanged recoils ready to spring. This should we do, oh chiefs ! fearing the gods Who rule the western land, and fearing fate 1 Surely the equal stars shine upon all. And here as there will guard their worshippers. Nor need we fear too greatly unseen fate, For that the strong heart moulds its destiny, And fate smiles ever on well-sharpened swords. Therefore if war must be, let it be waged Fierce, without pause, till armed resistance dies. — What shall our hearts choose having won the day ? Shall we, triumphant, add fresh blood to blood, Smiting the foe when he hath dropt the glaive ] Oh, Arvan, see, for evil is the thought ; Strong is a nation driven to despair — Strong as a madman whose one arm avails To scatter many reason-rulfed men. Fierce .were the struggle ere we quenched the life ; Many the red gaps riven in our ranks ; Nor would swift triumph heal them. What avails To lay the wide lands waste with fire and sword ^ Kingdoms enough to deserts have we turned. Where banded wolves roam the deserted fields, And shaggy bears couch by the thrones of kings. Fairest of lands were they till that we came 30 ARVAN; With desolation in our armfed hands. Drear is their aspect now. In the void fields No busy delver plies his fruitful task ; Mute are the cities, voiceful once with men ; And a great gloom of death dwells on them all. Surely 'twere well the sword should rest at last. Say that the races wherewith we made war, Destroying them even to the very ground, Were as a cancerous sore, that eats up earth, Even as an ulcer preys upon man's frame ; That our sharp sword was but the healer's knife, Cutting out utterly the gangrened flesh. Thus may it be with races of the earth, Savage, not e'er to be redeemed by word Nor deed of mercy, for their souls are wild. Not in them is the milk of human love, Nor thought of wisdom, as befitteth men. Such races is it lawful to erase From the earth's surface, as a toiling man With broad bill lops away a noxious weed. Then with sharp prongfed tool digs out the root, Lest Hfe remaining it might rise again. Thus is it not with the great western folk, But they are equals with us, having souls Knowing the past and future ; now our foes, Yet who might prove in peace-hours helpful much, Having minds wise and prudent, of the gods Given, as the warrior heart is to the North ; Therefore they, bartering, gain pleasant things, Whereout arises profit to the land. And store of much rejoicing to men's souls. Shall they not toil for us, they being spared, OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 31 JSubject unto King Arvan, lord of earth 1 Wherefore destroy them not ; for a king's strength Lies not in dead hands, but in hving hands, That, toiling, may accomplish all his will. Or soon, or late, the land will be our own. Better to reign o'er realms peopled with men Than wastes o'erwandered by the beasts of prey. — But shall we say, ' the land were sooner ours Destroyed we its manhood utterly, Erasing from it aU resisting life. Thus were this conquest, whereunto our hearts Yearn in all strength, more speedily fulfilled ? ' Oh ! Arvan, we may conquer overmuch. Advancing with all unpropitious speed. Hold thou thy hand, refraining still in time. Where the flood spreads o'er-swiftly o'er the plains, Its waters being void of depth, retire. A kingdom groweth as the ocean grows, That is not filled swiftly in one night. But by the silent growth of centuries. The work divine of ever-labouring streams, Waxes so great, being replenished. That the long drought, and heat of summer suns. Spend on it thenceforth all their might in vain. Making it not even by one hair's-breadth less. Thus should thine empire grow. Not thy son's sons Should view the task accomplished. Thou dost lay The deep foundation of the glorious pile ; Strive not to place on the sky-piercing tower Also the crowning stone. For other hands The gods, right-judging, do reserve the task. But if thou, to thy more than mortal strength 32 ARVAN; Trusting, would'st yet complete the glorious pile, Know thou shalt fail. Buildings thus swiftly raised, Being slight-structured, are aye prone to fall. Nor do the gods, who huild by mortal hands Kingdoms, regard with greatly favouring eyes Man's work when it essays to rival theirs. Where are the kingdoms of the ancient days, — Govar, and Mor, and Gari, and Yzzand 1 Scarce, in our days, of these a memory Abideth in the minds of living men. Lo ! they were great, arising with swift haste, Even like the shining snow-plant of the mead, That in a night attains its perfect prime, Yet doth not Ibng endure. The day wears on, Its place is empty. As the morning dreams. That having fled away before the dawn. Lest she should smite them with her golden rod, All faintly are remembered ; so their fame, Once mighty, now is waning from the earth. Soon shall it be no more. Yet were they great ; Haply more glorious in their hour than we. Who are slight chUdren of a later day. There where they failed, can we achieve success t Believe it not, oh ! Arvan ; for the sword Is as the spade, good for foundation work. Yet not an instrument wherewith to build. Nor through its use shall edifice arise Fit to endure the rude assaults of chance. Or the slow mining toil of eating Time. Now, know we well, being thereof assured, Not lightly shall we win the triumph wreath. The western hearts are strong, and their s\\(jril.s keen, OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. ^ And this great war shall be for many days. Yet though sweet Peace be as a lustrous star That dwelleth far, deem I, most mighty chiefs, That we should gaze on it with earnest eyes, Acquainting thus our soul with its fair shape ; For in all things 'tis wise to mark the end. We also tossed on war's tempestuous surge. Should know the silver Peace that guides our way. Even as mariners on the wide deep Are guided o'er the trackless world of waves, By the unchanging light of some fixed star. Therefore, most justly, ere the war begins, "Wise Lygrul looketh cautious unto peace. Peace let us grant the foe when their swords fail, But, Arvan, let it not be stained with guile. Guile is a poison cup which they who fill For others surely quaff themselves at last. Who, if thou dost deceive, speaking false words Before the burning gaze of the bright gods, Will trust the faith thou hast thyself forsworn. Weak is a kingdom founded on a lie ; But truth is loved of the truth-telUng stars. Be then the peace we grant open and just. So shall the sun-god shield his servants still." He ceased, and Arvan said, " Chiefs, ye have heard Irach the Might/s counsel ; is it good 1 " Then all the chieftains rose with clamorous shout. Accordant, and with high uplifted hands In attestation, crying, " It is good." But Arvan spake again, " The word is good. Now therefore counsel further for the king ; How shall we order the land's strength for war." C 31 ARYAN; Then arose Ori, saying, " The land's strength Lies in her sworded men. Let messengers Go forth, bearing the king's word, as of old, Unto the utmost boundaries of the land. Then let them show the rulers thy commands, That they shall order all the strong-limbed men By thousands, and by myriads, arming them With sword and shield, also with steel-tipped beams. Ash-wood, even northern spears, feared of the foe. So let them wait housing in tents of skins Thy further word, showing the gathering place." Next Menvohr spoke, " Far over the great plains Wander the horse-tribes, riders on swift steeds ; Let them be gathered from the plains of grass. Where they disport them, guarding their white flocks, Eobbing their neighbours. Let thy word go forth. Showing them war ; for they wUl come with speed, Lovers of spoil, hearing of pleasant strife. Even as vultures through the fields of air Come in dark multitudes from unseen worlds When the fresh corpses heap a field of death. Surely, they coming, we may use their spears, Nor risk our horsemen in the earlier strife. Thus shall we waste the Western war through deaths, Drainers of life blood of an armM host ; Nor will the slaughter of these savage men. They being o'erthrown, affect us, for their flesh Is even as carrion flesh, of no account ; Nor have they use, save only to be slain." He ceased. And Ordi rose, prudent of thought : " Much food," he said, " must be, for that the hosts Will be exceeding great. They eat up earth. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORP. 35 Even as a man, having outrubbed an ear, Full ripe, of yellow wheat, in harvest time. Gathers the gold grains in his hollow palm, And licks them up with his outstretching lips, Greedy to eat, nor leaves he one behind. The lands will not suflBce them for their need. For the man-multitudes are as sea waves Interminable, nor can men fix their close. Remember we how many thousands died In the great war with Ari, lacking food ; For though they took the last small crumb of bread From out the peasant woman's starving lips. And left her and her mate to nourish them On bark and wretched roots, that beasts refuse. Yet was there not enough for our array. But many myriads perished. Therefore now Let us thus, greatly warned, use prudent thought. Assembling food, corn, and the herded beasts. Wine also in the cities of the land. So that men may not measure all the store. For that its vastness passes human speech." Next Kalar spoke : " Our ships in multitudes Make black the northern ocean, and their sails Are, as gray clouds that fleck the winter heavens. Uncounted for their numbers. Shall these wait Idle in port, or sail mere peaceful seas. While Arvan and his armfed men by land Toil o'er long leagues, forgetting joys of rest 1 Truly the West land, washed about with waves, Lies open to our spoilers. Let them speed. Taking war-weapons in their brawny hands ; For though unseldom have our mariners «& ARYAN; Sailed over sea-paths to the Western land, , Thither have men yet come in black-ribbed barks. Therefore the path is open. Shall we not, Wealthy in valiant seamen, o'er the main Sailing in swarming multitudes of ships. Assail the western land throughout its coasts ? This let us do ; for hard it is to fence A land from the assaults of ocean men, Seeing in every sea-bay is a breach. Wherethrough men marching may destroy the foe. Also the land that watches 'gainst assaults Continuously, not knowing whence they come. Is worn out by an ever constant fear. Men traffic not secure as in old days. Since sworded spoilers may arise with speed. Stripping them of their hoards of pleasant gain. They rest not on their slumber couch secure, Since they may haply wake ringed round with flame. Perishing 'neath the sudden swords of foes. Who out of darkness come forth to destroy ; Arising from the black lap of the night. As the fierce levin flashes deadly keen. Armed with swift might of unexpected death. Out of the storm-black depths of tempest clouds." He ceased, and sat him down upon his chair Awaiting answer, having said his thought. Then Boro, the gray sea-king, op'd his lips. And spake a warning word unto his lord ; For on his black ship in the days of youth Far had he, voyaged, and he knew the deep Even as a child knoweth his father's face. " Arvan ! refrain ; decreeing not the attempt, OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 87 For dangers manifold averse to life Guard the wild way unto the western main. Do I not know it ? I ! for in the years When I was strong, fearing not man nor fate, I with my hlack ship sought that far off sea. Then came I, travelling o'er the billowy way, To the dark ocean, black with many storms, Which fenceth with tempestuous wrath the west. Five ships were mine, when from Oroona's quays. Great city of the northern sea, we sailed. Then many days over the hoary tide. Westward we voyaged, coasting shores of sand. Which buckler from the ocean waves thy realm. But now when many days had fled, and weeks. We came beyond the limits of thy realm, Thy father's realm it was in those far days. Even beyond its utmost boundary line, Unto the world whereof is Uttle known Of northern oversailers of the sea ; But a wild waste of waves is present there. Edged by a wild land dreaded of earth's sons. For prey-beasts overwander it at will. And savage men, fiercer than beasts of prey. Thus and thus is it in that far-off land. Which I in youth have with these dim eyes seen. Hither when we, borne in the black-ribbed ships. Swift sailing came, storms, many-clouded, rose. Striving against us with their windy might, Beating us all unwilling to the shore. Awful is that lone shore, edged round with rocks, That, black-fanged, jutting from the ocean tide, Bite unawares through the ship's wounded flanks. 88 ARYAN; There was one bark dashed on the craggy shore, And all the seamen, in the waves engulphed, Shrieking for aid ungiven of the gods. Beyond is a large world of clouds and mists, The Westernmost it is of every land ; Therethrough do wend all souls that quit our earth, Sad, glistening multitudes of ghostly shapes ; Men see them journeying through the steaming fogs. Over tlie wild moors to the unknown home ; And ever as they pass, a wild lament, Like to the loud-voiced howl of wintry winds, Falls on the grieved ears of flesh-wearing men. Such is that spectral land beset with ghosts. Also its children are a curs6d race ; Since common mortals, bearing human hearts Within the caverns of their hairy breasts, Feeling both pity and the thoughts of love, Might not endure to dwell on that dire shore. Therefore the gods created a wild race, Meet for the land that they should dwell therein ; Wearing no clothes of woven work nor skins. But naked of their bodies, overgrown Even like giant apes with shaggy hair ; They being like in kind to hair-clad beasts, Though walking on two feet like sons of men. Hence are they evil-natured, worse than brutes. Since in them only the wise gods have made The strength of reasoning men twinned, with brute hearts Man-eaters are they, feeding even like bears, Each in his mountain cave upon the slain. They spare not in their rage the shipwrecked crews Driven on their coast through stress of adverse winds. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. :19 But straight devour them as men eat a goat. For that they fear not the great gods of heaven, Nor reverence guest-law, having brutish hearts. Hence do all mariners avoid that land, Fearing its fatal customs fraught with death. But oft-times seek they vainly to avoid Its hateful coasts set round with ghastly cliffs ; For the great ocean stream toward its shores Flows in all strength. The black-ribbed vessels, caught In its strong, strait embrace are borne along. Spite of the force of sails, and labouring oars. Till on the sea-crags dashed with violence. They bring their journey to an unhoped end. Such doom comes aye to those who venture nigh To the grey glimmering cliffs of that ill land. But unto those, who, warned, on the high main, Stand far aloof from the death-dealing shore, Is safety, while the unblest realm of death Shows on the horizon's edge a dim gray cloud. Yet who secure over the ocean ways Travels, heaven-shielded from the rage of storms 1 Then, urged of winds, even the skilled mariner, Helpless, swift-driven from the destined course, Within the fell clutch of the briny flood Is dragged, despairing, to the deadly strand. There of my four black barks that yet remained. Three, hugging close th' inhospitable isle, Were dashed upon its rocks a hapless prey. Only mine own ship, steered by prudent hands, Standing aloof, far out upon the main. Escaped the perils of that land of mist. But of the wrecked men never one returned 40 ARVAN; To show his sorrows ; for the impious land Is as the grave, returning not its prey. These things consider, Arvan, in thy heart ; For if the black ships, o'er the ocean wave Sailing, attempt by sea the distant West, Few, on the path returning, will regain. War being ended, the much longed-for port. Then shall the J^orth mourn, orphaned of her ships. Moreover the sea-nations shall arise Haply against our sway ; seeing our might Hath for a time passed from us. So our land Shall have a new war added to the old. Then will thy vexM realm, that else secure Had dwelt at rest, regardless of the war W^eep, knowing much of sorrow and of strife. The ocean paths, whereby large stores of food Come to our people, being much beset By hostile chiefs, may yield no more a way Unto our merchantmen. So shall our sons Suffering much hunger, blame us in our souls, We having, through o'er-rashness, marred their peace. Therefore reserve thy strength. Keep well the seas, Nor risk thy war-ships on an unknown chance; Sparing thy seamen's lives; for this is best." He spake, and there was silence for a space; For no man, after him, rose, standing forth In the great hall, speaking wise counsel-words. Then Arvan judged the words. " Irach saith well. War is determined ; therefore will we wage War with unsparing hand, till the strife fail. He worketh ill who leaves his task half-wrought. Who rolls the rock, resisting much, half way OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 41 Up the steep slope, but pauseth ere he gain The level top, findeth his toil undone : Sudden the rock upon its path returns, And madly smokes along the dusty plain. Therefore we choose war till the goal is won ; And let no man doubt victory assured, For triumph I will answer, chieftains, still." And as he spake, scarce consciously his hand Sought the great diamond hilt of the charmed sword. Then he went on — " Wisely, great Irach saith. It were not well to lay the fair realm waste. Since in the end it surely will be ours. Peace will we grant them, when they sue for pe.ice ; For a great nation only slowly dies. Who seeks to flay the pard while yet it lives, May well be rent by the death-dealing claws; But he who patient waits, will in the end Win all the furry honours of the chase. But thou, oh ! Lygrul, who dost counsel craft, Know that it doth but ill beseem the strong To wield the cunning weapons of the weak. Arvan is strong, and Arvan's word remains White as the snow, strong as the steadfast hills. Now, for the conduct of the strife of swords, Well have ye spoken, counselling prudent words, Ori and Menvohr, Ordi, rich in gold, Als o gray Boro, sailor of the sea. These words will we consider in our hearts. Establishing the thing that seemeth meet. Warriors and chiefs, the counsel words are said. The prayer-hour is with us. The Sacrifice 42 ARVAN; Awaits our presence on the sacred mount : Therefore the war-assembly hath an end." Then they arose at Aryan's signal given, And through the portals passing forth in state, Deep-thinking, sought the hill of sacrifice. OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 43 CANTO III. The sun shone in unclouded majesty, While like a monarch, rich, of lavish heart, That scatters treasures from exhaustless store With unrefraining hand, he shed bright wealth Of heart-rejoicing gold o'er the wide streets, And stately, many-columned palaces Of the great city on the banks of Rha, Where Arvan, darkly- splendid, raised his throne. A change hath past over that city now. Blighting its grandeur : lonely are the plains Where once it sat a queen. There shepherds watch Their fleecy charge, calm tenders of the flocks. Guarding from midnight robbers and the assaults Of savage beasts their fear-filled multitudes. That over-wander all the grass-clad plain. Rough is the plain, embossed with emerald mounds, That show to gazing eyes like tiny hills. Which the all-mother. Earth, in sportive hour. Had shaped, in mockery of her giant sons. White Mountain, Arison, or awful Ur. At intervals, stretched like a stony belt Across the billowy, sea-like solitudes, Lie league-long avenues of shattered stones. All that remains of granite obelisk. Or columned marbled pride. And peasants' eyes. 44 AR VAN; Unskilled to read what was, from what is now, See not, as dull they urge their daily task 'Mid the bleak stones upon the silent hills. Grass-clad, that multitudinous stud the plain, That the time-wasted realm that sleeps below Was mightiest once of all seen of the sun. Yet Aryan's royal city, though its site Is now scarce known of men, once, in its pride. Shone gem-like on the royal robe of earth. Stateliest she was of cities in old days. Vast as great Oum, when, crowned with all command, She sat a queen upon the Irar plains. Spreading her robes imperial o'er the land, From sea-laved Gurna to the Aror hills. Broad were her streets, that to the horizon stretched, Fenced in with palace huge or humbler home. Fashioned of sun-dried brick. Temples were there. Mountain-like, marble-cased, homes of the gods; For every star-god had a separate fane. And on a thousand altars duly smoked. When the night fell, a worthy sacrifice. But of all temples that above men's homes Towered, their fair foreheads bathed in yellow light, Was the Sun's shrine, most gloriously fair. Facing the palace of the king, it rose ! Its pinnacles steep in the thin blue air. The cunning work which vestured all the fane Hidden in distance, mocked the earnest gaze Of keenest eyes, uplooking from below. And all the walls were clad with precious stones, Jasper, and agate, chalcedony, jade ; And every column wore a robe of light OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 45 Bright as the hues flung by the diamond stone, When on its facets flash the sunny rays : Thus glorious was that majestic fane. Forming the third side of the sacred square, Facing the sun-street, whose magnificent breadth Belted from side to side the royal town. Stretching away to the horizon's edge, Linking the royal palace and the shrine. Whose huge opposed bulk hemmed in the plain. Stood the green sacred hiU of sacrifice. Gigantic as a nature-builded hill. Though framed by toil of many myriad hands, The grass-clad mount lifted its head to heaven. A giant mass, it stretched from side to side ; One angle close against the palace wall. The other touching the sun's glowing fane. Thus stood stern lowering in portentous strength The sacrificial hill, high raised to heaven. Crowned with the holy altar of the sun, Hiding the blue horizon from men's eyes. Low at its feet, glistening in sunny light. Was a broad granite basin, sea-like, vast, Fnied even to the brim with water clear. Wherein men duly washed the sacrifice Ere it was offered on the sacred mount, For they would give clean victims to the gods. Up the steep mountain's green grass-vestured slopes, Even from the margin of the sacred sea, Kose the long flight of granite steps that led To where upon the green hill's flattened crest The sun's black altar gazed upon the sky. Broad was the altar, strong as is a tower, 46 ARYAN; Formed to defy the march of arm6d hosts, Yet rude the fire-scorched, uncemented mass, Built of black rocks, gathered from mountain peaks. Whose jaggfed summits piercing the. blue heavens First saw the rising, last the setting sun. These had men gathered from the distant lands. Knowing such rocks were surely loved of him Who smiled upon them, chiefest of earth's things. Such was the mountain-altar of the sun. And ever after his triumphant wars On the black, blood-stained altar of the sun. Since 'twas the custom of that northern land, King Arvan offered up in sacrifice The chiefest of the captives ta'en in war. And this men did, weU knowing that the sun Looks not unwilling on the ruddy stream That flows from warrior men, princes, and kings, In that where'er he shines it crimsons earth ; Therefore they prudent strove his thirst to slake With the red life-wine that he gladly quaifed, Deeming that, sated well with captive blood. His wrath would spare the children of tbe land. Now on this day the sun-priest had prepared. So Arvan bade, a worthy sacrifice. On the black altar, in due order ranged. Branchless and cleft, the pine tree stems were laid. Waiting the holy fire, whose sacred flame, Brought from the deep recesses of the fane. Where bright it burnt, unseen of vulgar eyes, Should kindle them into exultant life. And all around the altar watched the priests, Black-garbed, long-haired, with stern and awful eyes ; OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 47 And by the margin of the sacred sea They stood, close-gathered like a raven cloud That hungry settles on a battle-field, Seeking their joyful feast on slaughtered men : For Aryan's train on his triumphant march, Even now was drawing near the sacred square. He came, preceded by a long array Of weaponed warriors, whose swift-smiting swords Had won success and beaten down the foe. Each in his strong right hand a pine-branch bore ; For the dark tree that scorneth heat and cold, "Was in that northern land emblem of strength. First marched a host of quiver-bearing men ; Their left hand bore the branch ; their right the bow. These although now subject to Arvan's sway. Once stood in war against him ; but his sword Had overthrown their leaders, and their land. Chained by his might, now bled even as he willed. Saru the son of Naum led them in war, Well-skUled to govern arrow-shooting men, And now in peace ruling their warrior lines. Them followed close, a brass-clad multitude ; Brazen their helms, their breasts were mailed in brass. And brazen greaves shone on their well-fenced legs. With unsheathed glistening swords they forward went, As a great yellow snake steals through the waste. ELhala, the son of Garach, was their chief. Swift biter with the sword, valiant in fight : Of him 'twas graven on the record stones, That on a day he, lapped in gentle sleep, Sweeter than purest oil to weary limbs. Sudden was set on by the wary foe, 48 ARYAN; Who from their lurking place, five score and twelve, All shield-uplifting men, stormed sudden forth. Hoping to take him captive where he lay : But he, aroused from sleep, tossed his long hair, Even as a lion shakes his angry mane ; Then, for there was scant time to draw the glaive. Seeing his foes assailed him unawares, Swordless by might of his unweaponed hand. He beat, as with a war-club to the ground. The warrior twain, who led that sudden charge ; So gave a great shout, drawing his brown blade. Wherewith he smote to earth one score and four ; But the rest panic-stricken, fled like hares When the grim hound assails their fear-filled tribes. Such, and so great was Khala, Garach's son, Marshalling now in peace manslaying men. When the last line of warriors brazen-armed Had past like a great wave upon the sea. That swiftly moveth flashing yellow light. On to the wide-spread ocean's grizzled shore. A mixed multitude of men drew nigh. Savage they looked, fierce-eyed, with unkempt hair. Loose from their shoulders hung the hides of beasts, Tiger, and spotted pard, and furry bear. Slain in the chase. Their naked sun-tanned limbs Showed like to panthers' swarthy-hued and vast. These were mace-wielders whom the distant plains Of Northern Ari bore, mother of men. Cruel they were in fight, shedders of blood ; Cruel they were e'en when the fight was won, Unsparing to the lands they had subdued, .Seeing they listened not to human cries, OR, THE STORY OF THE SWORD. 49 Nor heeded human tears, nor feared the stars. Vain was the mother's crying for her child ; Vainly girl-children, their sweet eyes o'erflowed With supplicating tears, entreated grace. More cruel were they than all heasts of prey. Tiger, or mountain bear, or spotted pard. Wild boar, or lion prowler of the wild. Oft had their clubs, unsparing in the war, Smitten unheeding women's barM breasts. Oft had their maces beaten out the brains Of wounded men ; often, with joinM hands. Weaponless men had prayed to them for grace, Whose souls could never hear sweet mercy's prayer. They being earless as their great lord Death : For these were of all tribes that lived on earth, The only men who worshipped Death as God. And him they served, knowing well his might : For said they, " He is strojngest lord of all ; Stronger than lust, for he destroyeth lust ; Stronger than life, since that he quencheth life : Therefore they worshipped him with hideous rites, And shaped in stone eterne his image vast. That now stands ghastly on the eastern plains. Behind the altar black with human blood. Earless it is, for the skin-wearers said, " Earless is Death ; he hears no mortal prayer. We too, his children, should have earless hearts, For that the servants should be like their lord." Wild stormed through the Kha city's thronged streets, Cruel and fierce, that untamed multitude ; And wheresoe'er they past, although long years They had been ranged beneath king Arvan's sway, D 50 ARYAN; Shedding their blood to serve the northern land, Women shrank back as though they feared a wrong ; And little children, their aflfrighted eyes Buried, fear-stricken, in their mother's robes, As though a host of beasts of prey went by. So terrible showed those barbarian hordes ; Nardon, the son of Darh, slayer of men. Wielding his iron club, ruled the long lines. Lo ! when all these had past, an iron gleam Filled the great sun-street through its breadth of way. Down-flowing dark came the great stream of men ; An inky light it flung upon the eye From helmed heads and orbM iron shields, As a black river rippled by east wind. And overarched by sullen tempest-clouds, Reflects a gloom of frowns as it flows by. These were King Arvan's chosen, Northmen all, Bravest of men on whom the sun looked down. A myriad pine-boughs shadowed the dark ranks, A myriad falchions in their strong right hands Flashed back on gazing eyes the light of Heaven. While that they past, the people's tongues were mute, They wondering greatly at that brave array. These were the flower of all the