I have been tempted to enclose you a sort of ballad,
which was composed while looking on the very scene of
this disastrous event; its only merit consists in its
local inspiration, and in its conveying a true relation
of the manner in which the plague entered the doomed
city.
THE BLACK DEATH OF BERGEN.
I.
What can ail the Bergen Burghers
That they leave their stoups of wine?
Flinging up the hill like jagers,
At the hour they're wont to dine!
See, the shifting groups are fringing
Rock and ridge with gay attire,
Bright as Northern streamers tinging
Peak and crag with fitful fire!
II.
Towards the cliff their steps are bending,
Westward turns their eager gaze,
Whence a stately ship ascending,
Slowly cleaves the golden haze.
Landward floats the apparition -
"Is it, CAN it be the same?"
Frantic cries of recognition
Shout a long-lost vessel's name!
III.
Years ago had she departed -
Castled poop and gilded stern;
Weeping women, broken-hearted,
Long had waited her return.
When the midnight sun wheeled downwards,
But to kiss the ocean's verge -
When the noonday sun, a moment
Peeped above the Wintry surge,
IV.
Childless mothers, orphaned daughters,
From the seaward-facing crag,
Vainly searched the vacant waters
For that unreturning flag!
But, suspense and tears are ended,
Lo! it floats upon the breeze!
Ne'er from eager hearts ascended
Thankful prayers as warm as these.
V.
See the good ship proudly rounding
That last point that blocks the view;
"Strange! no answering cheer resounding
From the long home-parted crew!"
Past the harbour's stony gateway,
Onwards borne by sucking tides,
Tho' the light wind faileth - straightway
Into port she safely glides.
VI.
Swift, as by good angels carried,
Right and left the news has spread.
Wives long widowed-yet scarce married -
Brides that never hoped to wed,
From a hundred pathways meeting
Crowd along the narrow quay,
Maddened by the hope of meeting
Those long counted cast away.
VII.
Soon a crowd of small boats flutter
O'er the intervening space,
Bearing hearts too full to utter
Thoughts that flush the eager face!
See young Eric foremost gaining -
(For a father's love athirst!)
Every nerve and muscle straining,
But to touch the dear hand FIRST.
VIII.
In the ship's green shadow rocking
Lies his little boat at last,
Wherefore is the warm heart knocking
At his side, so loud and fast?
"What strange aspect is she wearing,
Vessel once so taut and trim?
Shout! - MY heart has lost its daring;
Comrades, search! - MY eyes are dim."
IX.
Sad the search, and fearful finding!
On the deck lay parched and dry
Men - who in some burning, blinding
Clime - had laid them down to die!
Hands - prayer - clenched - that would not sever,
Eyes that stared against the sun,
Sights that haunt the soul for ever,
Poisoning life - till life is done!
X.
Strength from fear doth Eric gather,
Wide the cabin door he threw -
Lo! the face of his dead father,
Stern and still, confronts his view!
Stately as in life he bore him,
Seated - motionless and grand,
On the blotted page before him
Lingers still the livid hand!
XI.
What sad entry was he making,
When the death-stroke fell at last?
"Is it then God's will, in taking
All, that I am left the last?
I have closed the cabin doorway,
That I may not see them die: -
Would our bones might rest in Norway, -
'Neath our own cool Northern sky!"
XII.
Then the ghastly log-book told them
How-in some accursed clime,
Where the breathless land-swell rolled them,
For an endless age of time -
Sudden broke the plague among them,
'Neath that sullen Tropic sun;
As if fiery scorpions stung them -
Died they raving, one by one!
XIII.
- Told the vain and painful striving,
By shot-weighted shrouds to hide
(Last fond care), from those surviving,
What good comrade last had died;
Yet the ghastly things kept showing,
Waist deep in the unquiet grave -
To each other gravely bowing
On the slow swing of the wave!
XIV.
Eric's boat is near the landing -
From that dark ship bring they aught?
In the stern sheets ONE is standing,
Though their eyes perceive him not;
But a curdling horror creepeth
Thro' their veins, with icy darts,
And each hurried oar-stroke keepeth
Time with their o'er-labouring hearts!
XV.
Heavy seems their boat returning,
Weighted with a world of care!
Oh, ye blind ones - none discerning
WHAT the spectral freight ye bear.
Glad they hear the sea-beach grating
Harsh beneath the small boat's stem -
Forth they leap, for no man waiting -
But the BLACK DEATH LANDS WITH THEM.
XVI.
Viewless - soundless - stalks the spectre
Thro' the city chill and pale,
Which like bride, this morn, had decked her
For the advent of that sail.
Oft by Bergen women, mourning,
Shall the dismal tale be told,
Of that lost ship home returning,
With "THE BLACK DEATH" in her hold!
I would gladly dwell on the pleasures of my second visit
to Christiansund, which has a charm of its own, independent
of its interest as the spot from whence we really "start
for home." But though strange lands, and unknown or
indifferent people, are legitimate subjects for travellers'
tales, our FRIENDS and their pleasant homes are NOT; so
I shall keep all I have to say of gratitude to our
excellent and hospitable Consul, Mr. Morch, and of
admiration for his charming wife, until I can tell you
viva voce how much I wish that you also knew them.
And now, though fairly off from Norway, and on our homeward
way, it was a tedious business - what with fogs, calms,
and headwinds - working towards Copenhagen.
