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Title: Uranienborg
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
From Heiberg.
Thou who the strand dost wander,
Thy steps, O traveller, stay!
Turn to the island yonder,
And listen to my lay.
Thy every meditation
Bid hither, hither stray:
On yonder banks its station
Had once a Castelaye.
In long past days in glory
It stood, and grandeur sheen
Now 'twas so transitory
Its ruins scarce are seen.
But in old days I warrant
Its equal was not found;
From every side apparent
High tower'd it from the ground.
For no sea-king intended
I ween was yonder hold;
Urania, it ascended
In praise of thee so bold.
Close by the ocean roaring,
Far, far from mortal jars,
It stood tow'rds heaven soaring,
And tow'rds the little stars.
A gate in the wall eastward,
Display'd its mighty mouth;
There was another westward,
And spires stood north and south.
The dome itself, high rearing,
A slender spirelet bore,
Upon it, ever veering,
A Pegasus gilt o'er.
Towers which the sight astounded
In north and south were plac'd;
Upon strong pillars founded,
And with fair galleries grac'd.
And there caught the attention
Of those that thither stroll'd,
Quadrants of hugh dimension,
And speres in frames that roll'd.
From yonder Castle, gazing
Across the isle, you spied
The woods, their heads up-raising,
And ocean's bluey tide.
The halls the sight enchanted
With colours bright of blee;
The gardens they were planted
With many a flower and tree.
When down came night careering
And vanish'd was the sun,
The stars were seen appearing
All heaven's arch upon.
Then far was heard the yelling,
When you thereto gave heed,
Of those that watch'd the dwelling,
Four hounds of mastiff breed.
The good knight ceas'd to walk on
The fields of war and gore,
His helm and sword the balk on
He hung, to use no more.
From earth, its woe and riot,
His soul had taken flight,
When in his chamber quiet
He sat at dead of night.
Then he his eye erected
Into the night so far,
And keen the course inspected
Of every twinkling star.
The stars his fame transported
Wide over sea and land,
And kings his friendship courted,
And sought his islet's strand.
But point the stars from heaven
To lands far o'er the main;
He went, by fortune driven,
And ne'er returned again.
The haughty walls through sorrow
Have long since sunken low,
And heavy plow-shares furrow
Thy house, Urania, now.
Each time the sun is sinking
It friendly looks on Hveen;
Its rays there linger, thinking
On what the place has been.
The moon hastes melancholy
Past, past the coast so dear,
And in love's transport holy
Shines Freya's starlet clear.
Then suddenly takes to heaving
Of that same ruin'd hold
The basis deep, believing
It is some eve of old.
For many moments gladly
'Twould rise up from the mould;
But ah! it can't, and sadly
Sinks in death's slumber cold.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Uranienborg
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