218 LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. [XII. 



Every whispered word obeying, 

 Swift we bore him down the steep, 

 O'er the deep, 



Up the tall ship's side, low swaying 

 To the storm-wind's powerful sweep, 

 And — his dead companions laying 

 Round him, — we had time to weep. 



VI. 



But the King said — " Peace ! bring hither 



Spoil and weapons — battle-strown, 



Make no moan ; 



Leave me and my dead together, 



Light my torch, and then — begone." 



But we murmured, each to other, 



" Can we leave him thus alone ? " 



VII. 



Angrily the King replieth ; 

 Flash the awful eyes again, 

 With disdain — 

 ' ' Call him not alone who lieth 

 Low amidst such nobie slain ; 

 Call him not alone who dieth 

 Side by side with gallant men." 



VIII. 



Slowly, sadly, we departed : 



Reached again that desolate shore, 



Nevermore 



Trod by him, the brave true-hearted — 



Dying in that dark ship's core ! 



Sadder keel from land ne'er parted, 



Nobler freight none ever bore ! 



IX. 



There we lingered, seaward gazing, 

 Watching o'er that living tomb, 

 Through the gloom — 

 Gloom ! which awful light is chasing — 

 Blood-red flames the surge illume ! 

 Lo ! King Hacon's ship is blazing ; 

 'Tis the hero's self-sought doom. 



