'A thousand winters dark have flown, Since o'er the threshold of my Stone A votaress pass'd, my power to own. Visitor bold Of the mansion of Trolld, Maiden haughty of heart, Who hast hither presumed,-- Ungifted, undoom'd, Thou shalt not depart; The power thou dost covet O'er tempest and wave, Shall be thine, thou proud maiden, By beach and by cave,-- By stack[52] and by skerry,[53] by noup[54] and by voe,[55] By air[56] and by wick,[57] and by helyer[58] and gio,[59] And by every wild shore which the northern winds know, And the northern tides lave. But though this shall be given thee, thou desperately brave, I doom thee that never the gift thou shalt have, Till thou reave thy life's giver Of the gift which he gave.'
"I answered him in nearly the same strain; for the spirit of the ancient Scalds of our race was upon me, and, far from fearing the phantom, with whom I sat cooped within so narrow a space, I felt the impulse of that high courage which thrust the ancient Champions and Druidesses upon contests with the invisible world, when they thought that the earth no longer contained enemies worthy to be subdued by them. Therefore did I answer him thus:--
'Dark are thy words, and severe, Thou dweller in the stone; But trembling and fear To her are unknown, Who hath sought thee here, In thy dwelling lone. Come what comes soever, The worst I can endure; Life is but a short fever, And Death is the cure.'
"The Demon scowled at me, as if at once incensed and overawed; and then coiling himself up in a thick and sulphureous vapour, he disappeared from his place. I did not, till that moment, feel the influence of fright, but then it seized me. I rushed into the open air, where the tempest had passed away, and all was pure and serene. After a moment's breathless pause, I hasted home, musing by the way on the words of the phantom, which I could not, as often happens, recall so distinctly to memory at the time, as I have been able to do since.
"It may seem strange that such an apparition should, in time, have glided from my mind, like a vision of the night--but so it was. I brought myself to believe it the work of fancy--I thought I had lived too much in solitude, and had given way too much to the feelings inspired by my favourite studies. I abandoned them for a time, and I mixed with the youth of my age. I was upon a visit at Kirkwall when I learned to know your father, whom business had brought thither. He easily found access to the relation with whom I lived, who was anxious to compose, if possible, the feud which divided our families. Your father, maidens, has been rather hardened than changed by years--he had the same manly form, the same old Norse frankness of manner and of heart, the same upright courage and honesty of disposition, with more of the gentle ingenuousness of youth, an eager desire to please, a willingness to be pleased, and a vivacity of spirits which survives not our early years. But though he was thus worthy of love, and though Erland wrote to me, authorizing his attachment, there was another--a stranger, Minna, a fatal stranger--full of arts unknown to us, and graces which to the plain manners of your father were unknown. Yes, he walked, indeed, among us like a being of another and of a superior race.--Ye look on me as if it were strange that I should have had attractions for such a lover; but I present nothing that can remind you that Norna of the Fitful-head was once admired and loved as Ulla Troil--the change betwixt the animated body and the corpse after disease, is scarce more awful and absolute than I have sustained, while I yet linger on earth. Look on me, maidens--look on me by this glimmering light--Can ye believe that these haggard and weather-wasted features--these eyes, which have been almost converted to stone, by looking upon sights of terror--these locks, that, mingled with grey, now stream out, the shattered pennons of a sinking vessel--that these, and she to whom they belong, could once be the objects of fond affection?--But the waning lamp sinks fast, and let it sink while I tell my infamy.--We loved in secret, we met in secret, till I gave the last proof of fatal and of guilty passion!--And now beam out, thou magic glimmer--shine out a little space, thou flame so powerful even in thy feebleness--bid him who hovers near us, keep his dark pinions aloof from the circle thou dost illuminate--live but a little till the worst be told, and then sink when thou wilt into darkness, as black as my guilt and sorrow!"