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SONG She is a maid of artless grace, Gentle in form, and fair of face, Tell me, thou ancient mariner, That sailest on the sea, If ship, or sail or evening star Be half so fair as she! Tell me, thou gallant cavalier, Whose shining arms I see, If steel, or sword, or battle-field Be half so fair as she! Tell me, thou swain, that guard'st thy flock Beneath the shadowy tree, If flock, or vale, or mountain-ridge Be half so fair as she! SANTA TERESA'S BOOK-MARK (LETRILLA QUE LLEVABA POR REGISTRO EN SU BREVIARIO) BY SANTA TERESA DE AVILA Let nothing disturb thee, Nothing affright thee; All things are passing; God never changeth; Patient endurance Attaineth to all things; Who God possesseth In nothing is wanting; Alone God sufficeth.
FROM THE CANCIONEROS I EYES SO TRISTFUL, EYES SO TRISTFUL (OJOS TRISTES, OJOS TRISTES) BY DIEGO DE SALDANA Eyes so tristful, eyes so tristful, Heart so full of care and cumber, I was lapped in rest and slumber, Ye have made me wakeful, wistful! In this life of labor endless Who shall comfort my distresses?
Querulous my soul and friendless In its sorrow shuns caresses.
Ye have made me, ye have made me Querulous of you, that care not, Eyes so tristful, yet I dare not Say to what ye have betrayed me.
II SOME DAY, SOME DAY (ALGUNA VEZ) BY CRISTOBAL DE GASTILLOJO Some day, some day O troubled breast, Shalt thou find rest.
If Love in thee To grief give birth, Six feet of earth Can more than he; There calm and free And unoppressed Shalt thou find rest.
The unattained In life at last, When life is passed, Shall all be gained; And no more pained, No more distressed, Shalt thou find rest.
III COME, O DEATH, SO SILENT FLYING (VEN, MUERTE TAN ESCONDIDA) BY EL COMMENDADOR ESCRIVA Come, O Death, so silent flying That unheard thy coming be, Lest the sweet delight of dying Bring life back again to me.
For thy sure approach perceiving, In my constancy and pain I new life should win again, Thinking that I am not living.
So to me, unconscious lying, All unknown thy coming be, Lest the sweet delight of dying Bring life back again to me.
Unto him who finds thee hateful, Death, thou art inhuman pain; But to me, who dying gain, Life is but a task ungrateful.
Come, then, with my wish complying, All unheard thy coming be, Lest the sweet delight of dying Bring life back again to me.
IV GLOVE OF BLACK IN WHITE HAND BARE Glove of black in white hand bare, And about her forehead pale Wound a thin, transparent veil, That doth not conceal her hair; Sovereign attitude and air, Cheek and neck alike displayed With coquettish charms arrayed, Laughing eyes and fugitive;-- This is killing men that live, 'T is not mourning for the dead.
FROM THE SWEDISH AND DANISH PASSAGES FROM FRITHIOF'S SAGA BY ESAIAS TEGNER I FRITHIOF'S HOMESTEAD Three miles extended around the fields of the homestead, on three sides Valleys and mountains and hills, but on the fourth side was the ocean.
Birch woods crowned the summits, but down the slope of the hillsides Flourished the golden corn, and man-high was waving the rye-field.
Lakes, full many in number, their mirror held up for the mountains, Held for the forests up, in whose depths the high-horned reindeers Had their kingly walk, and drank of a hundred brooklets.
But in the valleys widely around, there fed on the greensward Herds with shining hides and udders that longed for the milk-pail.
'Mid these scattered, now here and now there, were numberless flocks of Sheep with fleeces white, as thou seest the white-looking stray clouds, Flock-wise spread o'er the heavenly vault when it bloweth in springtime.
Coursers two times twelve, all mettlesome, fast fettered storm-winds, Stamping stood in the line of stalls, and tugged at their fodder.
Knotted with red were their manes, and their hoofs all white with steel shoes.
Th' banquet-hall, a house by itself, was timbered of hard fir.
Not five hundred men (at ten times twelve to the hundred) Filled up the roomy hall, when assembled for drinking, at Yule-tide.
Through the hall, as long as it was, went a table of holm-oak, Polished and white, as of steel; the columns twain of the High-seat Stood at the end thereof, two gods carved out of an elm-tree: Odin with lordly look, and Frey with the sun on his frontlet.
Lately between the two, on a bear-skin (the skin it was coal-black, Scarlet-red was the throat, but the paws were shodden with silver), Thorsten sat with his friends, Hospitality sitting with Gladness.
Oft, when the moon through the cloudrack flew, related the old man Wonders from distant lands he had seen, and cruises of Vikings Far away on the Baltic, and Sea of the West and the White Sea.
Hushed sat the listening bench, and their glances hung on the graybeard's Lips, as a bee on the rose; but the Scald was thinking of Brage, Where, with his silver beard, and runes on his tongue, he is seated Under the leafy beech, and tells a tradition by Mimer's Ever-murmuring wave, himself a living tradition.
Midway the floor (with thatch was it strewn) burned ever the fire-flame Glad on its stone-built hearth; and thorough the wide-mouthed smoke-flue Looked the stars, those heavenly friends, down into the great hall.
Round the walls, upon nails of steel, were hanging in order Breastplate and helmet together, and here and there among them Downward lightened a sword, as in winter evening a star shoots.
More than helmets and swords the shields in the hall were resplendent, White as the orb of the sun, or white as the moon's disk of silver.
Ever and anon went a maid round the hoard, and filled up the drink-horns, Ever she cast down her eyes and blushed; in the shield her reflection Blushed, too, even as she; this gladdened the drinking champions.
II A SLEDGE-RIDE ON THE ICE King Ring with his queen to the banquet did fare, On the lake stood the ice so mirror-clear, "Fare not o'er the ice," the stranger cries; "It will burst, and full deep the cold bath lies." "The king drowns not easily," Ring outspake; "He who's afraid may go round the lake." Threatening and dark looked the stranger round, His steel shoes with haste on his feet he bound, The sledge-horse starts forth strong and free; He snorteth flames, so glad is he.
"Strike out," screamed the king, "my trotter good, Let us see if thou art of Sleipner's blood." They go as a storm goes over the lake.
No heed to his queen doth the old man take.
But the steel-shod champion standeth not still, He passeth them by as swift as he will.
He carves many runes in the frozen tide, Fair Ingeborg o'er her own name doth glide.
III FRITHIOF'S TEMPTATION Spring is coming, birds are twittering, forests leaf, and smiles the sun, And the loosened torrents downward, singing, to the ocean run; Glowing like the cheek of Freya, peeping rosebuds 'gin to ope, And in human hearts awaken love of life, and joy, and hope.
Now will hunt the ancient monarch, and the queen shall join the sport: Swarming in its gorgeous splendor, is assembled all the Court; Bows ring loud, and quivers rattle, stallions paw the ground alway, And, with hoods upon their eyelids, scream the falcons for their prey.
See, the Queen of the Chase advances! Frithiof, gaze not at the sight! Like a star upon a spring-cloud sits she on her palfrey white.
Half of Freya, half of Rota, yet more beauteous than these two, And from her light hat of purple wave aloft the feathers blue.
Gaze not at her eyes' blue heaven, gaze not at her golden hair! Oh beware! her waist is slender, full her bosom is, beware! Look not at the rose and lily on her cheek that shifting play, List not to the voice beloved, whispering like the wind of May.
Now the huntsman's band is ready.

Hurrah! over hill and dale! Horns ring, and the hawks right upward to the hall of Odin sail.
All the dwellers in the forest seek in fear their cavern homes, But, with spear outstretched before her, after them the Valkyr comes.
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