For the old seafaring men With their sagas of the seas; "Of Iceland and of Greenland, "To the northward stretched the desert, How far I fain would know; So at last I sallied forth, And three days sailed due north, "To the west of me was the ocean, To the right the desolate shore, But I did not slacken sail For the walrus or the whale, Till after three days more. "The days grew longer and longer, Of the red midnight sun. "And then uprose before me, Upon the water's edge, The huge and haggard shape Of that unknown North Cape, "The sea was rough and stormy, The tempest howled and wailed, And the sea-fog, like a ghost, Haunted that dreary coast, But onward still I sailed. "Four days I steered to eastward, Four days without a night : Round in a fiery ring Went the great sun, O King, Here Alfred, King of the Saxons, But Othere, the old sea-captain, He neither paused nor stirred, Till the King listened, and then Once more took up his pen, And wrote down every word. "And now the land," said Othere, "Bent southward suddenly, And I followed the curving shore And ever southward bore Into a nameless sea. "And there we hunted the walrus, "There were six of us all together, Norsemen of Helgoland; In two days and no more We killed of them threescore, And dragged them to the strand !" Here Alfred the Truth-teller And Othere the old sea-captain His tawny, quivering beard. And to the King of the Saxons, Raising his noble head, He stretched his brown hand, and said, "Behold this walrus-tooth!" DAYBREAK A WIND came up out of the sea, And said, "O mists, make room for me." It hailed the ships, and cried, “Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone." And hurried landward far away, It said unto the forest, "Shout! It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And said, "O bird, awake and sing." And o'er the farms, "O chanticleer, It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down, and hail the coming morn." It shouted through the belfry-tower, 66 It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ MAY 28, 1857 It was fifty years ago In the pleasant month of May, In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, A child in its cradle lay. And Nature, the old nurse, took Thy Father has written for thee." "Come, wander with me," she said, And he wandered away and away And whenever the way seemed long, She would sing a more wonderful song, |