PRINCESS GERDA.

The King came home from battle,He came in triumph proud;Before, the heralds flying,With trumpets pealing loud,Ten thousand warriors followed,With gleaming spear and shield,A goodly store of trophiesBrought from the bloody field,A forest bright of bannersUnfurled like tongues of flame,And clanking ranks of captivesTo swell the mighty train.Beneath the arching gatewayAnd up the stony street,To time of martial music,Passed on the trampling feet;But ever chief and foremostThe King in triumph rode;His armor flashed in sunlight,Gay-plumed his helmet glowed,High stepped his coal-black charger,Impatient of the rein,And curved the sleek neck proudlyAnd shook the rippling mane.More proud than he the rider—In look and mien more proud;Before, the heralds speedingAnd trumpeting aloudHow Eric, the invader—Long time a dreaded foe—Lay with the gory corsesUpon the plain below;And how of his great armyA paltry little bandIn hopeless routHad turned aboutAnd fled to their own land.Quick, at the cry of heraldAnd clattering of hoof,From door and wall and window,From balcony and roof,Black hung the crowd; with praisesDid all the city ring—With praises for the warriors,With praises for the King:—So loud, the infant GerdaWas wakened from her sleep,And, writhing in her cradle,Forsooth began to weep,The while they praised her fatherTill all the air did ring,The while the people shouted,“Forever live the King!”

The King came home from battle,

He came in triumph proud;

Before, the heralds flying,

With trumpets pealing loud,

Ten thousand warriors followed,

With gleaming spear and shield,

A goodly store of trophies

Brought from the bloody field,

A forest bright of banners

Unfurled like tongues of flame,

And clanking ranks of captives

To swell the mighty train.

Beneath the arching gatewayAnd up the stony street,To time of martial music,Passed on the trampling feet;But ever chief and foremostThe King in triumph rode;His armor flashed in sunlight,Gay-plumed his helmet glowed,High stepped his coal-black charger,Impatient of the rein,And curved the sleek neck proudlyAnd shook the rippling mane.

Beneath the arching gateway

And up the stony street,

To time of martial music,

Passed on the trampling feet;

But ever chief and foremost

The King in triumph rode;

His armor flashed in sunlight,

Gay-plumed his helmet glowed,

High stepped his coal-black charger,

Impatient of the rein,

And curved the sleek neck proudly

And shook the rippling mane.

More proud than he the rider—In look and mien more proud;Before, the heralds speedingAnd trumpeting aloudHow Eric, the invader—Long time a dreaded foe—Lay with the gory corsesUpon the plain below;And how of his great armyA paltry little bandIn hopeless routHad turned aboutAnd fled to their own land.

More proud than he the rider—

In look and mien more proud;

Before, the heralds speeding

And trumpeting aloud

How Eric, the invader—

Long time a dreaded foe—

Lay with the gory corses

Upon the plain below;

And how of his great army

A paltry little band

In hopeless rout

Had turned about

And fled to their own land.

Quick, at the cry of heraldAnd clattering of hoof,From door and wall and window,From balcony and roof,Black hung the crowd; with praisesDid all the city ring—With praises for the warriors,With praises for the King:—So loud, the infant GerdaWas wakened from her sleep,And, writhing in her cradle,Forsooth began to weep,The while they praised her fatherTill all the air did ring,The while the people shouted,“Forever live the King!”

Quick, at the cry of herald

And clattering of hoof,

From door and wall and window,

From balcony and roof,

Black hung the crowd; with praises

Did all the city ring—

With praises for the warriors,

With praises for the King:—

So loud, the infant Gerda

Was wakened from her sleep,

And, writhing in her cradle,

Forsooth began to weep,

The while they praised her father

Till all the air did ring,

The while the people shouted,

“Forever live the King!”

There in the masonry,Black space and then a stairway.—Page 177.

There in the masonry,

Black space and then a stairway.—Page 177.

All day it rained. The white dovesCame not at Gerda’s call,To flock about the casementHigh up the palace wall,To coo ’neath her caresses,And plume their wings of snow,And pick the crumbs she scatteredUpon the ledge below.It rained all day. The sunbeamsWere weak and wan and rare—The beams that seven summersHad played with Gerda’s hair.All day it rained unceasing.The quaint old lofty room,For lack of bird and sunbeam,Was drear and full of gloom;And left among the shadows,The while the raindrops beat,With restless little fingers,With restless little feet,Went Princess Gerda roamingThe quaint old room around,And thus behind the tapestry,It chanced, a picture found—A painting blurred and faded:Two men had fought, and oneLay vanquished, while the other,With foot his neck upon,A murd’rous weapon brandishedAbove the prostrate head.“Thou hateful, hateful fellow!”In anger Gerda said,And clenched her small fist straightwayAnd smote the lifted hand.Lo! backward swung the picture,As tho’ a fairy’s wandObeying; and before her,There in the masonry,Black space and then a stairway—So much did Gerda see.“Where does it go?” she wondered,And, no one being nigh,Into the darkness ventured,Nor waited for reply.Down, down, and ever downward,The granite steps led on;With now and then a winding,With ever and anonA pause, a narrow landing,But never ray of light.On, on, went little Gerda,And downward thro’ the night,Recalling wondrous storiesThe good nurse Hedvig toldOf a strange realm and dreamlike,All paved and ceiled with gold,Where ruled the merry elf-king—A realm far underground,That a few favored mortalsBy patient search had found.So, on and on went Gerda,And downward through the night.At length in maze of passagesThat led to left and right,The stony staircase ended;And, searching in the dark,She wandered hither, thither:The elf-land, where? But hark!What sound was that? She listened.A moaning somewhere near!Again, again, a moaning!She fled away in fear.From right to left she hurried;She hurried to and fro;She called: “O good nurse Hedvig,Come to me here below!”Came never word of answer.She could not find the way.In terror trembling, sobbing,Still onward did she stray.“Who weeps?” Again she listened.The voice was low and kind.“’Tis I—’tis Princess Gerda;The way I cannot find.”“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!If thou wilt turn the key,How gladly will I offerTo be a guide for thee.”Her little fingers feelingThe slimy stones along,Found out the door of iron—The iron door so strong:And standing there on tip-toe,With all her might and main,She, reaching, tried the rusty key,But tried and tried in vain.“Once more, once more, O Princess!”At that she tried once more;The hinges grated harshly,And open flew the door;And one came forth whose featuresAnd form she could not seeFor the deep darkness round her;But never aught cared she,Because the voice was pleasantAnd drove away all fear—The voice that softly questioned,“How happened Gerda here?”“Down, down the longest stairwayThat ever yet was found,I came to hunt for fairiesThat dwell beneath the ground.”“Now tell me, sweetest Gerda,If I will show the way,And lead thee from the darknessFar up into the day,Wilt never of thy venture,Nor ever of thy guide,To any speak? Wilt promise?”She eagerly replied,“Oh, yes, yes, yes! I promise!”And, hand in hand, the twoThe dank and dismal corridorsWent searching through and through.A narrow length of passage,Low-ceiled, at last they gained,And midway in this passageA narrow doorway framed;And winding from this doorwayStone steps, a narrow flight,They found and followed—followedFar up out of the night.But when the little Gerda,Safe in the dim old room,That now seemed full of sunlightAfter the greater gloom—When quick she turned to see himWho led—the pictured wall,The overhanging tapestryShe saw—and that was all.And many days she marveled,And many nights did dreamOf that good guide and gentle,Who came and went unseen.But never more the stairway,So long and dark, she tried.She told not of her venture,She told not of her guide.The dungeon-keeper, bringingThe daily drink and bread,The iron doors found open!The prisoners had fled!In doubt and wonder gazing,He paled with sudden fear:“Alack! the King will hear it!Alack! the King will hear!”Down fell the bread and water—With flaming torch he soughtA narrow length of passageDeep through the rough rock wrought;And there for miles he wandered,Lit by the torch’s ray,Nor guessed how lately other feetHad traveled the same way.At last he reached a countryBeside the western sea—A fair and goodly country.There now in peace dwelt he.

All day it rained. The white doves

Came not at Gerda’s call,

To flock about the casement

High up the palace wall,

To coo ’neath her caresses,

And plume their wings of snow,

And pick the crumbs she scattered

Upon the ledge below.

It rained all day. The sunbeamsWere weak and wan and rare—The beams that seven summersHad played with Gerda’s hair.All day it rained unceasing.The quaint old lofty room,For lack of bird and sunbeam,Was drear and full of gloom;And left among the shadows,The while the raindrops beat,With restless little fingers,With restless little feet,Went Princess Gerda roamingThe quaint old room around,And thus behind the tapestry,It chanced, a picture found—A painting blurred and faded:Two men had fought, and oneLay vanquished, while the other,With foot his neck upon,A murd’rous weapon brandishedAbove the prostrate head.“Thou hateful, hateful fellow!”In anger Gerda said,And clenched her small fist straightwayAnd smote the lifted hand.Lo! backward swung the picture,As tho’ a fairy’s wandObeying; and before her,There in the masonry,Black space and then a stairway—So much did Gerda see.“Where does it go?” she wondered,And, no one being nigh,Into the darkness ventured,Nor waited for reply.

It rained all day. The sunbeams

Were weak and wan and rare—

The beams that seven summers

Had played with Gerda’s hair.

All day it rained unceasing.

The quaint old lofty room,

For lack of bird and sunbeam,

Was drear and full of gloom;

And left among the shadows,

The while the raindrops beat,

With restless little fingers,

With restless little feet,

Went Princess Gerda roaming

The quaint old room around,

And thus behind the tapestry,

It chanced, a picture found—

A painting blurred and faded:

Two men had fought, and one

Lay vanquished, while the other,

With foot his neck upon,

A murd’rous weapon brandished

Above the prostrate head.

“Thou hateful, hateful fellow!”

In anger Gerda said,

And clenched her small fist straightway

And smote the lifted hand.

Lo! backward swung the picture,

As tho’ a fairy’s wand

Obeying; and before her,

There in the masonry,

Black space and then a stairway—

So much did Gerda see.

“Where does it go?” she wondered,

And, no one being nigh,

Into the darkness ventured,

Nor waited for reply.

Down, down, and ever downward,The granite steps led on;With now and then a winding,With ever and anonA pause, a narrow landing,But never ray of light.On, on, went little Gerda,And downward thro’ the night,Recalling wondrous storiesThe good nurse Hedvig toldOf a strange realm and dreamlike,All paved and ceiled with gold,Where ruled the merry elf-king—A realm far underground,That a few favored mortalsBy patient search had found.

Down, down, and ever downward,

The granite steps led on;

With now and then a winding,

With ever and anon

A pause, a narrow landing,

But never ray of light.

On, on, went little Gerda,

And downward thro’ the night,

Recalling wondrous stories

The good nurse Hedvig told

Of a strange realm and dreamlike,

All paved and ceiled with gold,

Where ruled the merry elf-king—

A realm far underground,

That a few favored mortals

By patient search had found.

So, on and on went Gerda,And downward through the night.At length in maze of passagesThat led to left and right,The stony staircase ended;And, searching in the dark,She wandered hither, thither:The elf-land, where? But hark!What sound was that? She listened.A moaning somewhere near!Again, again, a moaning!She fled away in fear.From right to left she hurried;She hurried to and fro;She called: “O good nurse Hedvig,Come to me here below!”

So, on and on went Gerda,

And downward through the night.

At length in maze of passages

That led to left and right,

The stony staircase ended;

And, searching in the dark,

She wandered hither, thither:

The elf-land, where? But hark!

What sound was that? She listened.

A moaning somewhere near!

Again, again, a moaning!

She fled away in fear.

From right to left she hurried;

She hurried to and fro;

She called: “O good nurse Hedvig,

Come to me here below!”

Came never word of answer.She could not find the way.In terror trembling, sobbing,Still onward did she stray.“Who weeps?” Again she listened.The voice was low and kind.“’Tis I—’tis Princess Gerda;The way I cannot find.”

Came never word of answer.

She could not find the way.

In terror trembling, sobbing,

Still onward did she stray.

“Who weeps?” Again she listened.

The voice was low and kind.

“’Tis I—’tis Princess Gerda;

The way I cannot find.”

“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!If thou wilt turn the key,How gladly will I offerTo be a guide for thee.”

“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!

If thou wilt turn the key,

How gladly will I offer

To be a guide for thee.”

Her little fingers feelingThe slimy stones along,Found out the door of iron—The iron door so strong:And standing there on tip-toe,With all her might and main,She, reaching, tried the rusty key,But tried and tried in vain.

Her little fingers feeling

The slimy stones along,

Found out the door of iron—

The iron door so strong:

And standing there on tip-toe,

With all her might and main,

She, reaching, tried the rusty key,

But tried and tried in vain.

“Once more, once more, O Princess!”At that she tried once more;The hinges grated harshly,And open flew the door;And one came forth whose featuresAnd form she could not seeFor the deep darkness round her;But never aught cared she,Because the voice was pleasantAnd drove away all fear—The voice that softly questioned,“How happened Gerda here?”“Down, down the longest stairwayThat ever yet was found,I came to hunt for fairiesThat dwell beneath the ground.”

“Once more, once more, O Princess!”

At that she tried once more;

The hinges grated harshly,

And open flew the door;

And one came forth whose features

And form she could not see

For the deep darkness round her;

But never aught cared she,

Because the voice was pleasant

And drove away all fear—

The voice that softly questioned,

“How happened Gerda here?”

“Down, down the longest stairway

That ever yet was found,

I came to hunt for fairies

That dwell beneath the ground.”

“Now tell me, sweetest Gerda,If I will show the way,And lead thee from the darknessFar up into the day,Wilt never of thy venture,Nor ever of thy guide,To any speak? Wilt promise?”She eagerly replied,“Oh, yes, yes, yes! I promise!”And, hand in hand, the twoThe dank and dismal corridorsWent searching through and through.

“Now tell me, sweetest Gerda,

If I will show the way,

And lead thee from the darkness

Far up into the day,

Wilt never of thy venture,

Nor ever of thy guide,

To any speak? Wilt promise?”

She eagerly replied,

“Oh, yes, yes, yes! I promise!”

And, hand in hand, the two

The dank and dismal corridors

Went searching through and through.

A narrow length of passage,Low-ceiled, at last they gained,And midway in this passageA narrow doorway framed;And winding from this doorwayStone steps, a narrow flight,They found and followed—followedFar up out of the night.

A narrow length of passage,

Low-ceiled, at last they gained,

And midway in this passage

A narrow doorway framed;

And winding from this doorway

Stone steps, a narrow flight,

They found and followed—followed

Far up out of the night.

But when the little Gerda,Safe in the dim old room,That now seemed full of sunlightAfter the greater gloom—When quick she turned to see himWho led—the pictured wall,The overhanging tapestryShe saw—and that was all.

But when the little Gerda,

Safe in the dim old room,

That now seemed full of sunlight

After the greater gloom—

When quick she turned to see him

Who led—the pictured wall,

The overhanging tapestry

She saw—and that was all.

And many days she marveled,And many nights did dreamOf that good guide and gentle,Who came and went unseen.But never more the stairway,So long and dark, she tried.She told not of her venture,She told not of her guide.

And many days she marveled,

And many nights did dream

Of that good guide and gentle,

Who came and went unseen.

But never more the stairway,

So long and dark, she tried.

She told not of her venture,

She told not of her guide.

The dungeon-keeper, bringingThe daily drink and bread,The iron doors found open!The prisoners had fled!In doubt and wonder gazing,He paled with sudden fear:“Alack! the King will hear it!Alack! the King will hear!”

The dungeon-keeper, bringing

The daily drink and bread,

The iron doors found open!

The prisoners had fled!

In doubt and wonder gazing,

He paled with sudden fear:

“Alack! the King will hear it!

Alack! the King will hear!”

Down fell the bread and water—With flaming torch he soughtA narrow length of passageDeep through the rough rock wrought;And there for miles he wandered,Lit by the torch’s ray,Nor guessed how lately other feetHad traveled the same way.At last he reached a countryBeside the western sea—A fair and goodly country.There now in peace dwelt he.

Down fell the bread and water—

With flaming torch he sought

A narrow length of passage

Deep through the rough rock wrought;

And there for miles he wandered,

Lit by the torch’s ray,

Nor guessed how lately other feet

Had traveled the same way.

At last he reached a country

Beside the western sea—

A fair and goodly country.

There now in peace dwelt he.

The years have passed, and Gerda,Now grown a maiden tall,Looks from the latticed casementHigh up the palace wall;But not for flash and flutterOf snowy wings looks she—Thro’ rain or sunNo longer comeThe white doves merrily;For peace and they have flown afar,And all the land is red with war.Great Ivar, dreaded Ivar,Who rules the northern coast,Across his rocky bordersHas led a conquering host;And smiling field and hamletDespoiling as they came,Five months before the city wallsThe savage hordes have lain.The glimmer of their camp-firesThe Princess Gerda sees,Their tents, their hostile ensignsA-floating in the breeze.She looks forth from her windowWith eyes grown used to tears;And as she looks she listens—What sound is that she hears?A crash, a shriek, a shouting—A battlement gives way;Swift thro’ the breach come rushingThe foe in dire array,And sudden as a thunder-stormSweeps o’er the smiling day,The air is dark and clamorousAnd wild with deadly fray.But calm and clearDoes Gerda hearHis orders ring,As the brave King,Unfaltering,Keeps the fierce foe at bay.But see! he falls!“The King is down!”Who’ll guard the walls?Who’ll save the town?“The King is slain! we fight in vain!Alack, alack, the King is slain!”The panic-stricken soldiers,Pale-faced, from street to streetFlee wildly, as the enemyPursue their flying feet:“The King is slain, the town is lost!Who can withstand great Ivar’s host!”But look! what stranger legionsAgainst the hostile tideLeap forth in shining armorAnd bold advancing ride,Ride on and ever onward,Beat back the hostile tide?“The gods! the gods! ValhallaHas sent its warriors downTo fight against our Ivar!To battle for the town!”And in dismay and terrorIs hushed the conquering cry.From street to street,In swift retreat,And over fallen battlement,The pale besiegers fly—Fly fast and far; nor pause theyTill, on the northern shore,They see the birchen forests,And hear the breakers roar.Meanwhile, with peals of gladnessThe rescued city rang,And loud their great deliveranceThe joyous people sang,And loud they sang the praisesOf him, the unknown knight,Who led his valiant legionsTo battle for the right.So loud and long their praises,Awaking from his swoon,The King o’erheard, and seeingWho wore the chieftain’s plume,Aghast, stood up and questioned,Hand on his horse’s rein,“What art thou—man or spirit?And what may be thy name?”“I am, O King, no spirit;And Eric is my name;—Prince Eric, son of Eric,Who sleeps on yonder plain.”“What! Eric? son of Eric?Ah, I have heard of thee,How wise and well thou rulestBeside the western sea.But why dost thou come hitherTo drive away the foe,And earn my people’s praises,Since well thou seem’st to knowThat it was I,In years gone by,Who laid thy father low?”“Not for thy people’s praisesI hither led my band,But with, O king, thy favor,To win thy daughter’s hand.”“Great soul and gallant suitor!Well doth he play his part,Who, seeking hand of daughter,Doth steal the father’s heart.”But Princess Gerda saw not:She heeded naught of all,Nor gazed she from the windowHigh up the palace wall.“Wherefore the loud rejoicing,Wherefore the triumph vain,Since he is dead—my father,—Since he, the King, is slain?”With streaming eyes she greetedTwo ent’ring at the door,Aye, even him who bowed so lowHis white plumes swept the floor;The other—lo! her father!Behold his spirit come!She stood in trembling wonder;Her pallid lips were dumb.“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!If thou wilt turn the key,How gladly will I offerTo be a guide for thee!”So spake the Prince; and GerdaIn listening paler grew;Recalling guide and venture,The words, the voice she knew.“They come to me from spirit-land!Two heroes are they, tall and grand,And clad in armor bright!”And in her fear,As they drew near,The quaint old room reeled round her,And all was black as night.But when again the PrincessHer blue eyes opened wide,And saw the good King kneelingAnd smiling at her side,And heard him softly whisper,“Behold, my little one,I bring to thee a suitorWill please me for a son”—She bowed in sweet submission,And meekly answered she:“Whatever please my father,That also pleaseth me.”And in the royal city,And all the country thro’,Were festal cheer and gladnessWhere late were war and woe;For the good King’s dominionsAnd those the sea beside,Were wed when Princess GerdaBecame brave Eric’s bride.

The years have passed, and Gerda,

Now grown a maiden tall,

Looks from the latticed casement

High up the palace wall;

But not for flash and flutter

Of snowy wings looks she—

Thro’ rain or sun

No longer come

The white doves merrily;

For peace and they have flown afar,

And all the land is red with war.

Great Ivar, dreaded Ivar,Who rules the northern coast,Across his rocky bordersHas led a conquering host;And smiling field and hamletDespoiling as they came,Five months before the city wallsThe savage hordes have lain.The glimmer of their camp-firesThe Princess Gerda sees,Their tents, their hostile ensignsA-floating in the breeze.She looks forth from her windowWith eyes grown used to tears;And as she looks she listens—What sound is that she hears?

Great Ivar, dreaded Ivar,

Who rules the northern coast,

Across his rocky borders

Has led a conquering host;

And smiling field and hamlet

Despoiling as they came,

Five months before the city walls

The savage hordes have lain.

The glimmer of their camp-fires

The Princess Gerda sees,

Their tents, their hostile ensigns

A-floating in the breeze.

She looks forth from her window

With eyes grown used to tears;

And as she looks she listens—

What sound is that she hears?

A crash, a shriek, a shouting—A battlement gives way;Swift thro’ the breach come rushingThe foe in dire array,And sudden as a thunder-stormSweeps o’er the smiling day,The air is dark and clamorousAnd wild with deadly fray.

A crash, a shriek, a shouting—

A battlement gives way;

Swift thro’ the breach come rushing

The foe in dire array,

And sudden as a thunder-storm

Sweeps o’er the smiling day,

The air is dark and clamorous

And wild with deadly fray.

But calm and clearDoes Gerda hearHis orders ring,As the brave King,Unfaltering,Keeps the fierce foe at bay.

But calm and clear

Does Gerda hear

His orders ring,

As the brave King,

Unfaltering,

Keeps the fierce foe at bay.

But see! he falls!“The King is down!”Who’ll guard the walls?Who’ll save the town?“The King is slain! we fight in vain!Alack, alack, the King is slain!”

But see! he falls!

“The King is down!”

Who’ll guard the walls?

Who’ll save the town?

“The King is slain! we fight in vain!

Alack, alack, the King is slain!”

The panic-stricken soldiers,Pale-faced, from street to streetFlee wildly, as the enemyPursue their flying feet:“The King is slain, the town is lost!Who can withstand great Ivar’s host!”

The panic-stricken soldiers,

Pale-faced, from street to street

Flee wildly, as the enemy

Pursue their flying feet:

“The King is slain, the town is lost!

Who can withstand great Ivar’s host!”

But look! what stranger legionsAgainst the hostile tideLeap forth in shining armorAnd bold advancing ride,Ride on and ever onward,Beat back the hostile tide?

But look! what stranger legions

Against the hostile tide

Leap forth in shining armor

And bold advancing ride,

Ride on and ever onward,

Beat back the hostile tide?

“The gods! the gods! ValhallaHas sent its warriors downTo fight against our Ivar!To battle for the town!”And in dismay and terrorIs hushed the conquering cry.From street to street,In swift retreat,And over fallen battlement,The pale besiegers fly—Fly fast and far; nor pause theyTill, on the northern shore,They see the birchen forests,And hear the breakers roar.

“The gods! the gods! Valhalla

Has sent its warriors down

To fight against our Ivar!

To battle for the town!”

And in dismay and terror

Is hushed the conquering cry.

From street to street,

In swift retreat,

And over fallen battlement,

The pale besiegers fly—

Fly fast and far; nor pause they

Till, on the northern shore,

They see the birchen forests,

And hear the breakers roar.

Meanwhile, with peals of gladnessThe rescued city rang,And loud their great deliveranceThe joyous people sang,And loud they sang the praisesOf him, the unknown knight,Who led his valiant legionsTo battle for the right.

Meanwhile, with peals of gladness

The rescued city rang,

And loud their great deliverance

The joyous people sang,

And loud they sang the praises

Of him, the unknown knight,

Who led his valiant legions

To battle for the right.

So loud and long their praises,Awaking from his swoon,The King o’erheard, and seeingWho wore the chieftain’s plume,Aghast, stood up and questioned,Hand on his horse’s rein,“What art thou—man or spirit?And what may be thy name?”

So loud and long their praises,

Awaking from his swoon,

The King o’erheard, and seeing

Who wore the chieftain’s plume,

Aghast, stood up and questioned,

Hand on his horse’s rein,

“What art thou—man or spirit?

And what may be thy name?”

“I am, O King, no spirit;And Eric is my name;—Prince Eric, son of Eric,Who sleeps on yonder plain.”

“I am, O King, no spirit;

And Eric is my name;—

Prince Eric, son of Eric,

Who sleeps on yonder plain.”

“What! Eric? son of Eric?Ah, I have heard of thee,How wise and well thou rulestBeside the western sea.But why dost thou come hitherTo drive away the foe,And earn my people’s praises,Since well thou seem’st to knowThat it was I,In years gone by,Who laid thy father low?”

“What! Eric? son of Eric?

Ah, I have heard of thee,

How wise and well thou rulest

Beside the western sea.

But why dost thou come hither

To drive away the foe,

And earn my people’s praises,

Since well thou seem’st to know

That it was I,

In years gone by,

Who laid thy father low?”

“Not for thy people’s praisesI hither led my band,But with, O king, thy favor,To win thy daughter’s hand.”

“Not for thy people’s praises

I hither led my band,

But with, O king, thy favor,

To win thy daughter’s hand.”

“Great soul and gallant suitor!Well doth he play his part,Who, seeking hand of daughter,Doth steal the father’s heart.”

“Great soul and gallant suitor!

Well doth he play his part,

Who, seeking hand of daughter,

Doth steal the father’s heart.”

But Princess Gerda saw not:She heeded naught of all,Nor gazed she from the windowHigh up the palace wall.“Wherefore the loud rejoicing,Wherefore the triumph vain,Since he is dead—my father,—Since he, the King, is slain?”

But Princess Gerda saw not:

She heeded naught of all,

Nor gazed she from the window

High up the palace wall.

“Wherefore the loud rejoicing,

Wherefore the triumph vain,

Since he is dead—my father,—

Since he, the King, is slain?”

With streaming eyes she greetedTwo ent’ring at the door,Aye, even him who bowed so lowHis white plumes swept the floor;The other—lo! her father!Behold his spirit come!She stood in trembling wonder;Her pallid lips were dumb.

With streaming eyes she greeted

Two ent’ring at the door,

Aye, even him who bowed so low

His white plumes swept the floor;

The other—lo! her father!

Behold his spirit come!

She stood in trembling wonder;

Her pallid lips were dumb.

“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!If thou wilt turn the key,How gladly will I offerTo be a guide for thee!”

“Fear not, O Princess Gerda!

If thou wilt turn the key,

How gladly will I offer

To be a guide for thee!”

So spake the Prince; and GerdaIn listening paler grew;Recalling guide and venture,The words, the voice she knew.“They come to me from spirit-land!Two heroes are they, tall and grand,And clad in armor bright!”And in her fear,As they drew near,The quaint old room reeled round her,And all was black as night.

So spake the Prince; and Gerda

In listening paler grew;

Recalling guide and venture,

The words, the voice she knew.

“They come to me from spirit-land!

Two heroes are they, tall and grand,

And clad in armor bright!”

And in her fear,

As they drew near,

The quaint old room reeled round her,

And all was black as night.

But when again the PrincessHer blue eyes opened wide,And saw the good King kneelingAnd smiling at her side,And heard him softly whisper,“Behold, my little one,I bring to thee a suitorWill please me for a son”—She bowed in sweet submission,And meekly answered she:“Whatever please my father,That also pleaseth me.”

But when again the Princess

Her blue eyes opened wide,

And saw the good King kneeling

And smiling at her side,

And heard him softly whisper,

“Behold, my little one,

I bring to thee a suitor

Will please me for a son”—

She bowed in sweet submission,

And meekly answered she:

“Whatever please my father,

That also pleaseth me.”

And in the royal city,And all the country thro’,Were festal cheer and gladnessWhere late were war and woe;For the good King’s dominionsAnd those the sea beside,Were wed when Princess GerdaBecame brave Eric’s bride.

And in the royal city,

And all the country thro’,

Were festal cheer and gladness

Where late were war and woe;

For the good King’s dominions

And those the sea beside,

Were wed when Princess Gerda

Became brave Eric’s bride.

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