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Henry W. Longfellow

Henry W. Longfellow

Tales of a Wayside Inn: Part 1. the Musician’s Tale; the Saga of King Olaf I.

I am the God Thor,
I am the War God,
I am the Thunderer!
Here in my Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I forever!
 
Here amid icebergs
Rule I the nations;
This is my hammer,
Miölner the mighty;
Giants and sorcerers
Cannot withstand it!
 
These are the gauntlets
Wherewith I wield it,
And hurl it afar off;
This is my girdle;
Whenever I brace it,
Strength is redoubled!
 
The light thou beholdest
Stream through the heavens,
In flashes of crimson,
Is but my red beard
Blown by the night-wind,
Affrighting the nations!
 
Jove is my brother;
Mine eyes are the lightning;
The wheels of my chariot
Roll in the thunder,
The blows of my hammer
Ring in the earthquake!
 
Force rules the world still,
Has ruled it, shall rule it;
Meekness is weakness,
Strength is triumphant,
Over the whole earth
Still is it Thor’s-Day!
 
Thou art a God too,
O Galilean!
And thus single-handed
Unto the combat,
Gauntlet or Gospel,
Here I defy thee!

#AmericanWriters

Other works by Henry W. Longfellow...
Tales of a Wayside Inn: Part 1. the Musician’s Tale; the Saga of King Olaf VIII.

On King Olaf’s bridal night Shines the moon with tender light, And across the chamber streams Its tide of dreams. At the fatal midnight hour,
The Bird and the Ship. (From the German of Müller)

‘The rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow. ’The clouds are passing far and hi…
Parker Cleveland. Written on Revisiting Brunswick in the Summer of 1875

Among the many lives that I have… None I remember more serene and s… More rounded in itself and more co… Than his, who lies beneath this fu… These pines, that murmur in low mo…
Tales of a Wayside Inn: Part 2. Interlude I.

‘Yes, well your story pleads the c… Of those dumb mouths that have no… Only a cry from each to each In its own kind, with its own laws… Something that is beyond the reach
Tales of a Wayside Inn: Part 2. Finale

‘Nunc plaudite!’ the Student crie… When he had finished; 'now applaud… As Roman actors used to say At the conclusion of a play;? And rose, and spread his hands abr…
Carillon

In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times,
Son of the Evening Star, The

Can it be the sun descending O’er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimso…
Tales of a Wayside Inn: Part 1. the Musician’s Tale; the Saga of King Olaf XVI.

Northward over Drontheim, Flew the clamorous sea-gulls, Sang the lark and linnet From the meadows green; Weeping in her chamber,
Prometheus, Or, the Poet’s Forethought. (Birds of Passage. Flight the First)

Of Prometheus, how undaunted On Olympus’ shining bastions His audacious foot he planted, Myths are told and songs are chant… Full of promptings and suggestions…
Mezzo Cammin

Half of my life is gone, and I ha… The years slip from me and have no… The aspiration of my youth, to bui… Some tower of song with lofty para… Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor t…
The Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz. (Birds of Passage. Flight the First)

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
The Fire of Drift

DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR M… We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea-breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day.
Hymn to the Night

I heard the trailing garments of t… Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed… From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell…
Spring. (From the French of Charles D’Orleans. XV. Century)

Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart… And thou, thou makest the sad hear… He sees thee, and calls to his glo…
The Day is Done

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village



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