September Volume 3; The Death of Paris the Land East of the Sun and West of the Moon. October the Story of Accontius and Cydippe the Man Who Never Lau

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1871 Excerpt: ...hearts soe'er, what hearths she might leave cold, Before the ending of the tale be told. But where we take the story up, fifteen The maiden's years were; Kiartan now had seen His eighteenth spring, and younger by a year Was Bodli, son of Thorleik. Now most fair Seemed Olaf s lot in life, and scarcely worse Was Oswif s, and what shadow of a curse, Might hang o'er either house, was thought of now As men think of a cloud, the mountain's brow Hides from their eyes an hour before the rain; For so much love there was betwixt the twain, Herdholt and Bathstead, that it well might last Until the folk aforenamed were all past From out the world; but herein shall be shown How the sky blackened, and the storm swept down. The Prophecy of Guest the Wise. UPON a day, amid the maids that spun Within the bower at Bathstead, sat Gudrun, Her father in the firth a-fishing was, The while her mother through the meads did pass About some homely work. So there she sat, Nor set her hand to this work or to that, And a half-frown was on her pensive face, Nor did she heed the chatter of the place As girl spake unto girl. Then did she hear The sound of horse-hoofs swiftly drawing near, And started up, and cried: That shall be Guest, Riding, as still his wont is, from the west Unto the Thing, and this is just the day When he is wont at Bathstead to make stay. Then to the door she went, and with slim hand Put it aback, and 'twixt the posts did stand, And saw therewith a goodly company Ride up the gray slopes leading from the sea. That spring was she just come to her full height, Low-bosomed yet she was, and slim and light, Yet scarce might she grow fairer from that day; Gold were the locks wherewith the wind did play, Finer than silk, waved softly like the sea After a three d...