On the green little isle of Inchk… Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bon… So brave with his targe and claymo… His form is the form of a giant,

When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm—wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges,

The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes

I know a maiden fair to see, Take care! She can both false and friendly be… Beware! Beware! Trust her not,

Annie of Tharaw, my true love of… She is my life, and my goods, and… Annie of Tharaw, her heart once a… To me has surrendered in joy and i… Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my go…

(Canto XXIII.) Even as a bird, ‘mid the beloved l… Quiet upon the nest of her sweet b… Throughout the night, that hideth… Who, that she may behold their lon…

A strain of music closed the tale, A low, monotonous, funeral wail, That with its cadence, wild and sw… Made the long Saga more complete. ‘Thank God,’ the Theologian said,

I stood on the bridge at midnight, As the clocks were striking the ho… And the moon rose o’er the city, Behind the dark church—tower. I saw her bright reflection

And King Olaf heard the cry, Saw the red light in the sky, Laid his hand upon his sword, As he leaned upon the railing, And his ships went sailing, sailin…

All praised the Legend more or le… Some liked the moral, some the ver… Some thought it better, and some w… Than other legends of the past; Until, with ill-concealed distress

I said unto myself, if I were dea… What would befall these children?… Their fate, who now are looking up… For help and furtherance? Their l… Would be a volume wherein I have…

There was a time when I was very… When my whole frame was but an ell… Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do… And therefore I recall it with de… I sported in my tender mother’s ar…

Touched by the pathos of these rhy… The Theologian said: ‘All praise Be to the ballads of old times And to the bards of simple ways, Who walked with Nature hand in ha…

Once upon Iceland’s solitary stra… A poet wandered with his book and… Seeking some final word, some swee… Wherewith to close the volume in h… The billows rolled and plunged upo…

In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Sailing high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy’s paper kite. In broad daylight, yesterday,