C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Mermaid
By Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom (1790–1855)
L
Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand.
And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair,
Down to her feet extends her dripping hair.
Thin as the air and as the water clear.
Lifting her veil with milk-white hand she shows
Eyes in whose deeps a deadly fire glows.
As by a spell, he views their gulf profound.
Heaven and death are there: in his desire,
He feels the chill of ice, the heat of fire.
“The runes are dark, would you their meaning know?
Follow! my dwelling is as dark and deep;
You, you alone, its treasure vast shall keep!”
“Built on a coral island far away,
Crystalline, golden, floats that castle free,
Meet for a lovely daughter of the sea!”
Now the alluring maiden grasps his hand.
“Ah! Do you tremble, you who were so bold?”
“Yes, for the heaving breakers are so cold!”
Take, as a charm, my ring with sea-runes strange.
Here is my crown of water-lilies white,
Here is my harp, with human bones bedight.”
“What say my Father and my Mother dear?
What says my God, who bends from heaven to hear?”
“Father and Mother in the churchyard lie.
As for thy God, he deigns not to reply.”
Smiting the bone-harp with her graceful hand.
Fair is her bosom, through her thin robe seen,
White as a swan beheld through rushes green.
There is my castle in its coral grove;
There the red branches purple shadows throw,
There the green waves, like grass, sway to and fro.
“I have a thousand sisters; none so fair.
He whom I wed receives my sceptre rare.
Wisdom occult my mother will impart.
Granting his slightest wish, I’ll cheer his heart.”
“Heaven and earth to win you I abjure!
Child of the ocean, is your promise sure?”
“Heaven and earth abjuring, great’s your gain,
Throned with the ancient gods, a king to reign!”
Lighted for Heaven’s Christmas day they seem.
Sighing, he swears the oath,—the die is cast;
Into the mermaid’s arms he sinks at last.
High on the shore the rushing waves roll in.
“Why does the color vary on your skin?
What! From your waist a fish’s tail depends!”
“Worn for the dances of my sea-maid friends.”
“Haste! to my golden castle I return.
Save me, ye runes!”—“Yes, try them now; they fail.
Pupil of heathen men, my spells prevail!”
Roaring, it parts; the ocean yawns, a grave.
Mermaid and youth go down; the gulf is deep.
Over their heads the surging waters sweep.
When for their sports the elves are gathering,
Out of the waves the youth appears, and plays
Tunes that are merry, mournful, like his days.