Danskeren. [volume] (Neenah, Wis.) 1892-1920, 1905-07-14
s
by FATTIGMAND)
"

".
Onward slowly moves the army,
Led by Holstein's great commander
Who with Knights of fame and station,
And a Friar and a Mummy,
Forms the vanguard of the host.
Suddenly, like bolt from crossbow.
Shoots a figure from the roadsi6 g,
Horses take to baking, rearing,
Wildly are their riders staring.
As if all did see a ghost.
Passive, towering, swarthy, yisaged,
Fiery eyed stands the figure
In the road with arms akimbo,
Causing quite a motley tumble,
Till command flies back to halt.
With his strength and will combined,
Gerard soon his charger masters,
Draws the ponderous blade from scab-
bard,
Which the goblin Sons Of Vulcan,
Forged in their cavern vault,
1t for me had won a record
Deeds Of Honor, deeds Of daring,
Deeds Of darkness was the record,
| That went with it in descendance,
From the pagan times till now.
Legends told Of how it always.
Right or wrong, had wrecked vengeance
On the slayers of its owners
Massive, simple, iron HATED,
1t was never made for show
With this famous helmet cleayer,
Held aloft for dire descension.
Closing %yizier, squirting charger,
Count Gerard rode straight at Woliy,
| Surely he will hunt the brush,
But he stands u%ndaunted, laughing
At the Count, who halts %entranced
BY two orbs, which stings with triumph
"Not yet, Count is his salnting
"You are in too great a rush
Better take a spell Of thinking,
Well you know your swords tradition,
Yet | have not earned distinction,
To be subject to its witchcraft.-
Mark-when swung by other hands.
Therefore | am sent to tell you
It's the Gods that send you warning
It's the last that they will send you.
Well they know twill be unheeded:
"Turn-and live on your WI lands"
Which are those what owns your
language,
Otherwise your days are numbered.
Even TO the very number
OF the hairs above yonr temples
Count them, Count-there are not ten
DumbstIuck by such daring mocking
Sits the Count and his retinue,
Wolly stays a fixed wonder,
Will not scale the steep escarpment,
To escape with waiting Sven
When at last the speech returned
To the Count, he bids his riders
To secure him, sends an order
For the rackmen and a halter.
"Lunatic OF churl-he dies
String him up in yonder beach tree
Friar, shrift him at your shortest
| these stubborn Danes will humble,
Were the hairs upon their numbsculls
Thick as sand on seashore lies"
"As to shrift"-Black Wolly answers
81 stands not in need of any,
Give it TO your old Sir Mummy,
Who to kill the Sons of Denmard,
Having no more of his own,
With his new, Pope washed conscience,
In his dotage braves the Northwind =
Ho-Sir Hartyigl Did its breezes
Come atwart and blow you DOWN."
With a gasp the haggard Graybeard
Slid from saddle to the greensward,
Soon to rest his bones beneath it
Heartstrings brooke-his soul released
Took its fight to Judgments realm.
Number Onel' Black Wolly mumbles,
ut took only words to kill him,
My old master is ayendged
BY his simplest, mental servant
Little waves al shift the helm"
Loud-"Count Gerard, fix my halter,
Life for life is ancient ruling,
Thus, before my crowpicked carcass
Win be shaded by the May-leaf,
stark and stiff you too shall lay"
Fumes the Count: "Now by Our Lady,
'Tis the Dog Prince whom we logged,
Thrice he has foretold my fortune,
/ will show him he is erring,
III Sshall die some other day.
Cut that tree it shall not blossom,