Thora.I.Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, notcomme il faut;Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt, too,But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy whitepelisseWere her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942]was dim,But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s brim.For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.And ’tis known[944]how much attention every pretty maid annoys;And—it was a thousand pities![945]—Thora did not like the boys;They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;As for loving them! No, thank you;[946]she would rather be excused!And, besides, there were so many[947]—stout and slender, short and tall—How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948]which were drooping, row[949]on row,[950]From their stakes; while to the westward[951]hung the sun so huge and red;Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952]drifting idly o’er her head.“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953]said the good-wife with a sigh,Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.“Therefore I will tell thee,[954]daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955]never knows as much as two.We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”“Oh! what sport!”[957]cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother dear!Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”II.While the mountain tops[959]were rosy and with dew the grass[960]was wet,Thora hastened to the boat-house[961]to repair the fishing net;Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962]she o’er the fields away,Tossing[963]to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964]throwing round[965]the maid a ring,Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught thee, Miss,Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”“Come and take it,[966]lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967]and here my hand;[968]Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,With a slap[969]she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970]she bounded like a hind,And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971]with burning earsTo compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roarOft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972]the rocky shore,And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled breast:[974]“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets distraught,Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,On the strand alone she wandered,[975]where, in whispered pulses beat,Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]There it seemed—what odd illusion!—that her footsteps on the sandBroke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and dread,[977]Moving stealthily behind her,[978]and she dared not turn her head.Swiftly, wildly, on[979]she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980]th’ horizon’s bar;Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,Scarce she fell[981]ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s arm.[982]“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;But my heart[983]was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak to-night.Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984]which peeped askanceFrom behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985]sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how bad I am—Once—I hung—a great, live lobster—on the tail of Hans, our ram!”Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,And ’twas rumored in the parish—though again it was denied—[986]That while all the moon was hidden—[987]all except the golden tips—[988]There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,Rose at length and trudged[989]sedately, anxious for the daughter’s weal,Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers flew[990]Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991]soared the silent mew.And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992]which proved later to be two.“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to harm;Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and drear,Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;Nervously she twirled her apron,[993]and she hung her pretty head,Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:“Mother, dear,[994]I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995]solemnly the dame replied;“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;For of men there are so many[996]—stout and slender, short and tall—How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”Now the moon,[997]who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:“Since thou hast chosen, daughter—every bird[998]must try his wings—Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with tears,“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear—I boxed his ears.”Gestures.[942]A. O.[943]Measure.[944]Ind. H. F.[945]Con. V.[946]Con. V.[947]H. O.[948]L. H. O.[949]P. Sp.[950]Imp.[951]H. L.[952]L. A. O.[953]Impersonate.[954]Ind. H. O.[955]H. O.[956]B. H. O.[957]Speak to left, clasp hands.[958]B. H. O.[959]Left A. O.[960]Left D. O.[961]H. O.[962]P. H. Sw.[963]Raise P. Sp.[964]B. H. F.[965]B. Sp.[966]Fold arms.[967]To mouth.[968]Sp.[969]Sp.[970]Left H. O.[971]H. Sw.[972]D. O.[973]H. Sw.[974]To breast.[975]H. Sw.[976]D. F.[977]B. V. H. O.[978]Glance sidewise without turning head.[979]H. F.[980]A. Sw.[981]D. F.[982]Sp.[983]To heart.[984]A. O.[985]Sp.[986]Ind. H. F.[987]V. A. O.[988]Ind. A. O.[989]H. F.[990]A. Sw.[991]Raise P.[992]Ind. H. F.[993]Sp.[994]B. Cla. to breast.[995]B. raised V.[996]B. H. O.[997]A. O.[998]H. O.
I.Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, notcomme il faut;Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt, too,But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy whitepelisseWere her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942]was dim,But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s brim.For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.And ’tis known[944]how much attention every pretty maid annoys;And—it was a thousand pities![945]—Thora did not like the boys;They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;As for loving them! No, thank you;[946]she would rather be excused!And, besides, there were so many[947]—stout and slender, short and tall—How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948]which were drooping, row[949]on row,[950]From their stakes; while to the westward[951]hung the sun so huge and red;Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952]drifting idly o’er her head.“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953]said the good-wife with a sigh,Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.“Therefore I will tell thee,[954]daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955]never knows as much as two.We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”“Oh! what sport!”[957]cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother dear!Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”II.While the mountain tops[959]were rosy and with dew the grass[960]was wet,Thora hastened to the boat-house[961]to repair the fishing net;Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962]she o’er the fields away,Tossing[963]to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964]throwing round[965]the maid a ring,Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught thee, Miss,Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”“Come and take it,[966]lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967]and here my hand;[968]Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,With a slap[969]she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970]she bounded like a hind,And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971]with burning earsTo compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roarOft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972]the rocky shore,And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled breast:[974]“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets distraught,Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,On the strand alone she wandered,[975]where, in whispered pulses beat,Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]There it seemed—what odd illusion!—that her footsteps on the sandBroke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and dread,[977]Moving stealthily behind her,[978]and she dared not turn her head.Swiftly, wildly, on[979]she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980]th’ horizon’s bar;Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,Scarce she fell[981]ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s arm.[982]“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;But my heart[983]was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak to-night.Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984]which peeped askanceFrom behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985]sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how bad I am—Once—I hung—a great, live lobster—on the tail of Hans, our ram!”Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,And ’twas rumored in the parish—though again it was denied—[986]That while all the moon was hidden—[987]all except the golden tips—[988]There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,Rose at length and trudged[989]sedately, anxious for the daughter’s weal,Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers flew[990]Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991]soared the silent mew.And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992]which proved later to be two.“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to harm;Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and drear,Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;Nervously she twirled her apron,[993]and she hung her pretty head,Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:“Mother, dear,[994]I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995]solemnly the dame replied;“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;For of men there are so many[996]—stout and slender, short and tall—How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”Now the moon,[997]who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:“Since thou hast chosen, daughter—every bird[998]must try his wings—Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with tears,“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear—I boxed his ears.”
I.Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, notcomme il faut;Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt, too,But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy whitepelisseWere her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942]was dim,But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s brim.For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.And ’tis known[944]how much attention every pretty maid annoys;And—it was a thousand pities![945]—Thora did not like the boys;They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;As for loving them! No, thank you;[946]she would rather be excused!And, besides, there were so many[947]—stout and slender, short and tall—How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948]which were drooping, row[949]on row,[950]From their stakes; while to the westward[951]hung the sun so huge and red;Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952]drifting idly o’er her head.“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953]said the good-wife with a sigh,Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.“Therefore I will tell thee,[954]daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955]never knows as much as two.We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”“Oh! what sport!”[957]cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother dear!Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”II.While the mountain tops[959]were rosy and with dew the grass[960]was wet,Thora hastened to the boat-house[961]to repair the fishing net;Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962]she o’er the fields away,Tossing[963]to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964]throwing round[965]the maid a ring,Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught thee, Miss,Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”“Come and take it,[966]lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967]and here my hand;[968]Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,With a slap[969]she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970]she bounded like a hind,And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971]with burning earsTo compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roarOft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972]the rocky shore,And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled breast:[974]“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets distraught,Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,On the strand alone she wandered,[975]where, in whispered pulses beat,Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]There it seemed—what odd illusion!—that her footsteps on the sandBroke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and dread,[977]Moving stealthily behind her,[978]and she dared not turn her head.Swiftly, wildly, on[979]she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980]th’ horizon’s bar;Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,Scarce she fell[981]ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s arm.[982]“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;But my heart[983]was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak to-night.Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984]which peeped askanceFrom behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985]sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how bad I am—Once—I hung—a great, live lobster—on the tail of Hans, our ram!”Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,And ’twas rumored in the parish—though again it was denied—[986]That while all the moon was hidden—[987]all except the golden tips—[988]There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,Rose at length and trudged[989]sedately, anxious for the daughter’s weal,Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers flew[990]Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991]soared the silent mew.And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992]which proved later to be two.“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to harm;Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and drear,Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;Nervously she twirled her apron,[993]and she hung her pretty head,Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:“Mother, dear,[994]I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995]solemnly the dame replied;“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;For of men there are so many[996]—stout and slender, short and tall—How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”Now the moon,[997]who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:“Since thou hast chosen, daughter—every bird[998]must try his wings—Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with tears,“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear—I boxed his ears.”
I.
Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,
Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, notcomme il faut;
Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt, too,
But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.
One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy whitepelisseWere her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942]was dim,But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s brim.
One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy whitepelisse
Were her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.
Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942]was dim,
But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s brim.
For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.And ’tis known[944]how much attention every pretty maid annoys;And—it was a thousand pities![945]—Thora did not like the boys;
For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]
From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.
And ’tis known[944]how much attention every pretty maid annoys;
And—it was a thousand pities![945]—Thora did not like the boys;
They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;As for loving them! No, thank you;[946]she would rather be excused!And, besides, there were so many[947]—stout and slender, short and tall—How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?
They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;
As for loving them! No, thank you;[946]she would rather be excused!
And, besides, there were so many[947]—stout and slender, short and tall—
How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them all?
Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948]which were drooping, row[949]on row,[950]From their stakes; while to the westward[951]hung the sun so huge and red;Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952]drifting idly o’er her head.
Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,
In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948]which were drooping, row[949]on row,[950]
From their stakes; while to the westward[951]hung the sun so huge and red;
Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952]drifting idly o’er her head.
“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953]said the good-wife with a sigh,Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.
“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953]said the good-wife with a sigh,
Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;
“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no maid boon.
Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.
“Therefore I will tell thee,[954]daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955]never knows as much as two.We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”
“Therefore I will tell thee,[954]daughter, what ’tis wise for thee to do;
One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955]never knows as much as two.
We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]
They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”
“Oh! what sport!”[957]cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother dear!Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”II.While the mountain tops[959]were rosy and with dew the grass[960]was wet,Thora hastened to the boat-house[961]to repair the fishing net;Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962]she o’er the fields away,Tossing[963]to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.
“Oh! what sport!”[957]cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother dear!
Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!
Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]
I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”
II.
While the mountain tops[959]were rosy and with dew the grass[960]was wet,
Thora hastened to the boat-house[961]to repair the fishing net;
Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962]she o’er the fields away,
Tossing[963]to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.
When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964]throwing round[965]the maid a ring,Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught thee, Miss,Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”
When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,
Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964]throwing round[965]the maid a ring,
Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught thee, Miss,
Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”
“Come and take it,[966]lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967]and here my hand;[968]Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,With a slap[969]she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.
“Come and take it,[966]lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967]and here my hand;[968]
Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”
And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,
With a slap[969]she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.
With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970]she bounded like a hind,And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971]with burning earsTo compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.
With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970]she bounded like a hind,
And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,
While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971]with burning ears
To compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.
Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roarOft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972]the rocky shore,And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.
Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roar
Oft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972]the rocky shore,
And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,
That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.
And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?
And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;
He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]
Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,
Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?
Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled breast:[974]“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”
Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,
Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled breast:[974]
“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?
Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”
Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets distraught,Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,On the strand alone she wandered,[975]where, in whispered pulses beat,Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]
Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets distraught,
Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,
On the strand alone she wandered,[975]where, in whispered pulses beat,
Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]
There it seemed—what odd illusion!—that her footsteps on the sandBroke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and dread,[977]Moving stealthily behind her,[978]and she dared not turn her head.
There it seemed—what odd illusion!—that her footsteps on the sand
Broke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,
And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and dread,[977]
Moving stealthily behind her,[978]and she dared not turn her head.
Swiftly, wildly, on[979]she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980]th’ horizon’s bar;Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,Scarce she fell[981]ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s arm.[982]
Swiftly, wildly, on[979]she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,
With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980]th’ horizon’s bar;
Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,
Scarce she fell[981]ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s arm.[982]
“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;But my heart[983]was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak to-night.Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”
“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;
But my heart[983]was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak to-night.
Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;
Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”
Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984]which peeped askanceFrom behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985]sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how bad I am—Once—I hung—a great, live lobster—on the tail of Hans, our ram!”
Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984]which peeped askance
From behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.
“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985]sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how bad I am—
Once—I hung—a great, live lobster—on the tail of Hans, our ram!”
Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,And ’twas rumored in the parish—though again it was denied—[986]That while all the moon was hidden—[987]all except the golden tips—[988]There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.
Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,
And ’twas rumored in the parish—though again it was denied—[986]
That while all the moon was hidden—[987]all except the golden tips—[988]
There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.
For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,Rose at length and trudged[989]sedately, anxious for the daughter’s weal,Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers flew[990]Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991]soared the silent mew.
For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,
Rose at length and trudged[989]sedately, anxious for the daughter’s weal,
Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers flew[990]
Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991]soared the silent mew.
And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992]which proved later to be two.
And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;
And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.
Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,
For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992]which proved later to be two.
“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to harm;Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and drear,Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”
“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,
Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to harm;
Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and drear,
Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”
Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;Nervously she twirled her apron,[993]and she hung her pretty head,Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:“Mother, dear,[994]I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”
Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;
Nervously she twirled her apron,[993]and she hung her pretty head,
Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:
“Mother, dear,[994]I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”
“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995]solemnly the dame replied;“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;For of men there are so many[996]—stout and slender, short and tall—How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”
“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995]solemnly the dame replied;
“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;
For of men there are so many[996]—stout and slender, short and tall—
How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”
Now the moon,[997]who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:
Now the moon,[997]who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,
Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,
Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,
And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:
“Since thou hast chosen, daughter—every bird[998]must try his wings—Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with tears,“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear—I boxed his ears.”
“Since thou hast chosen, daughter—every bird[998]must try his wings—
Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”
“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with tears,
“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear—I boxed his ears.”
Gestures.