Saga of Halfred the Sigskald Part 8

And Halfred told me that for the first time since that midsummer night a warm breath pa.s.sed again over his soul.

And the beautiful boy in the airy bower enchained his eyes, and the mournful yearning song entranced his soul.

And for the first time, for many, many years, his breast could heave with a full drawn breath.

And tears filled his eyes, and restored and healed him, and made him young once more, like cool dew upon the heath after a burning sun.

And at the close of every two lines the words of the song rang harmoniously together, like--and yet again not altogether entirely like--as though two voices sought each other in sound and echo.

Or as when man and woman, one and yet two, are folded together in a kiss.

The boy sang in the soft lisping Irish language, which Halfred well knew. But that closing concord had he never heard, and it resounded far more pleasingly upon the ear than did the dead consonant staves of the Skalds.

And this was the boy's song,--

"On light slender branches blowing White rose yearns through May's young bloom-- Sun G.o.d, 'tis for thee I'm glowing, When wilt thou, thy bright face showing, Quaff full deep my fresh perfume?

When wilt thou, for ardour sighing, Greet my flowers in trembling bliss?

Come, and must I rue thee dying, Leave within my chalice lying, Fiery sweet, thy fervid kiss."

Here closed the boy's song and playing with a clear resounding chord on the strings.

And as soon as he ceased, and had hung his harp on the boughs, lo!

there came flying from the nearest shrub two snow-white doves, which lighted one on the right, the other on the left shoulder of the boy, who smiling stroked their heads, and slowly, thoughtfully, with stately, and yet almost timed step, came down the white wooden stairs, and stood upon the beautiful flowery turf of the greenwood glade.

Halfred dreaded that he might terrify the gentle harper if he stepped suddenly out of the thicket before him.

Therefore he called to him first, from a distance, in a soft voice, slowly drawing nearer.

"Hail, gentle boy! If thou art mortal, may the G.o.ds be gracious to thee. If thou art thyself a G.o.d, or as I surmise one of the light elves, then be not ungracious to me, a mortal man."

Then the boy turned slowly towards him, without seeming to be terrified, or even surprised, and as Halfred now drew nearer, he said in a melodious vibrating voice--

"Welcome, Halfred. Art thou come at last? I have tarried long for thee."

And he offered him both hands; the glance of the golden eyes sinking deep into Halfred's soul.

Halfred, however, dared not to touch those hands. He felt, from the very depths of his being, a quickening warmth uprise, and send rippling through body and soul a quiver of delight--of joy in surpa.s.sing beauty--but also of holy awe, as in the presence of G.o.ds or spirits; for he had no longer any doubt that it was no earthly being who stood before him.

Voice and breath almost failed him as he asked--

"Who hath proclaimed to thee Halfred's coming, and name!"

"The moonlight."

"Then art thou indeed, as I had already perceived, the prince of the light elves, to whom moon and stars speak words. Be gracious to me, O loveliest of the G.o.ds."

Then the boy smiled. "I am a child of earth, like thyself, Halfred.

Draw nearer. Take my hands."

"But who art thou, if thou art mortal!" asked Halfred, still hesitating.

"Thoril, King Thorul's orphan grandchild."

"And wherefore dwellest thou here alone, on this small island, as though hidden, and not in King Thorul's hall?"

"He dreamed thrice that danger threatened me, in the month when the wild roses blow; a strange s.h.i.+p which should come into his harbour would carry me away, never to be seen again.

"To render me quite safe against this danger he sent me here to this small outlying island, at which, because of its circling cliffs, no s.h.i.+p can land. Only Moengal, his ancient armour-bearer, and his wife, my foster-mother, are with me; yonder, in that small wooden house, behind the beech mound, we live. But so long as the dear lord s.h.i.+nes, and the gay b.u.t.terflies flit over the flowers, I tarry here in hidden airy bower."

"But, thou wonderful boy, if thou art really a child of earth, how could the moon reveal to thee my coming and my name?"

"I sleep not in the moonlight, because it entices me out and upwards.

It lifts me by force from my couch, and upwards to itself. With closed eyes, they say, I wander then away on the narrowest ridges of the roof; and far away, through forest and mountain, I see what shall happen in the future, and the distance.

"Carefully they guarded me, therefore, in the king's hall. But here, the clear moon looks freely through the rifts in our cottage roof.

"And I saw, seven nights ago, a s.h.i.+p, with a swan on the prow, that drew nearer and nearer. On the deck lay sleepless a dark-bearded man, with a n.o.ble countenance. 'Halfred,' his two friends called him.

"And ever nearer floated the sailing Swan. But when, one cloudy night, the moon shone not upon my pillow, and my eyes could not see the s.h.i.+p, and the man, then yearning seized upon me for that n.o.ble countenance.

And I laid my pillow and my head, since then, ever carefully under the full flood of the moonlight. And night after night I gazed again on that lofty forehead and these palid temples.

"But still more beautiful and lordly art thou, than thy dream picture; and never have I seen a man to equal thee."

"But thou," cried Halfred, seizing both the singer's hands, "art like Baldur in spring beauty, gentle boy.

"Never have I seen such perfect charm in youth or in maiden. Like suns.h.i.+ne upon chilled limbs, like Chios wine through parched throat, flows thy beauty through my eyes deep into my soul. Thou art as the blackbird's song and the wood flowers: as the evening star in golden clouds; thou art as the most wonderful song which ever resounded from the lips of a Skald; thyself, as thou livest and movest, thou art pure poetry.

"O Thoril, golden boy, how gentle thou art! how thou hast quickened my grief-worn heart. O Thoril, leave me never again!

"Take up once more thy magic harp; uplift once more that sweet song, which has awakened my soul from the sleep of death.

"O come, let me lay my heavy head upon thy knee, and gaze in thy sunny wondrous face, while thou tunest thy harp, and playest and singest."

And thus they both did.

And trustfully flew one of the doves from Thoril's hand to Halfred's broad shoulder, and cooed lovingly to the other.

And when the song was ended, Halfred seized again the two hands of the boy, and drew them slowly slowly over his forehead, and his moist eyes.

And it all was as it stands written in the sacred books of the Jews, of the King full of sadness and heaviness, who could only be healed by the harp-playing of the son of Jesse.

CHAPTER XII.

And this lasted many days; and upon Halfred's forehead the lines and furrows disappeared, one after another. And once more he could draw a deep full breath without sighing.