s
And battles long ago.

As had already been intimated, the table of contents in a present-day
volume of poetry is very apt to show an Old Norse title. Thus Robert
Lord Lytton's _Poems Historical and Characteristic_ (London, 1877)
reveals among the poems on European, Oriental, classic and mediaeval
subjects, "The Death of Earl Hacon," a strong piece inspired by an
incident in _Heimskringla_. In Robert Buchanan's multifarious versifying
occurs this title: "Balder the Beautiful, A Song of Divine Death," but
only the title is Old Norse; nothing in the poem suggests that origin
except a notion or two of the end of all things. "Hakon" is the title of
a short virile piece more nearly of the Norse spirit. Sidney Dobell's
drama _Balder_ has only the title to suggest the Icelandic, but Gerald
Massey has the true ring in a number of lyrics, with themes drawn from
the records of Norway's relations with England. In "The Norseman" there
is a trumpet strain that recalls the best of the border-ballads; there
is also a truthfulness of portraiture that argues a poet's, intuition in
Gerald Massey, if not an acquaintance with the sagas:

The Norseman's King must stand up tall,
If he would be head over all;
Mainmast of Battle! when the plain
Is miry-red with bloody rain!
And grip his weapon for the fight,
Until his knuckles grin tooth-white,
The banner-staff he bears is best
If double handful for the rest:
When "follow me" cries the Norseman.

He knows the gentler side of Old Norse character, too, a side which, as
we have seen, was not suspected till Carlyle came:

He hides at heart of his rough life,
A world of sweetness for the Wife;
From his rude breast a Babe may press
Soft milk of human tenderness,--
Make his eyes water, his heart dance,
And sunrise in his countenance:
In merriest mood his ale he quaffs
By firelight, and with jolly heart laughs
The blithe, great-hearted Norseman.

The poem "Old King Hake," is as strikingly true in characterization as
the preceding. In half a dozen strophes Massey has told a whole saga,
and has found time, too, to describe "an iron hero of Norse mould." How
miserable a personage is the Italian that flits through Browning's pages
when contrasted with this hero:

When angry, out the blood would start
With old King Hake;
Not sneak in dark caves of the heart,
Where curls the snake,
And se