Here Alfred, King of the Saxons, Ceased writing for a while; And raised his eyes from his book, With a strange and puzzled look, And an incredulous smile. But Othere, the old sea-captain, He neither paused nor stirred, Till the King listened, and then Once more took up his pen, And wrote down every word. "And now the land," said Othere, "Bent southward suddenly, And I followed the curving shore And ever southward bore Into a nameless sea. "And there we hunted the walrus, The narwhale, and the seal; Ha! 't was a noble game! And like the lightning's flame Flew our harpoons of steel. "There were six of us all together, Norsemen of Helgoland; In two days and no more We killed of them threescore, And dragged them to the strand! Here Alfred the Truth-Teller Suddenly closed his book, And lifted his blue eyes, with doubt and strange surmise Depicted in their look. And Othere the old sea-captain Stared at him wild and weird, Then smiled, till his shining teeth Gleamed white from underneath His tawny, quivering beard. And to the King of the Saxons, In witness of the truth, Raising his noble head, He stretched his brown hand, and said, "Behold this walrus-tooth!" SANDALPHON Have you read in the Talmud of old, In the Legends the Rabbins have told Of the limitless realms of the air,-- Have you read it.--the marvellous story Of Sandalphon, te Angel of Glory, Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? How, erect, at the outermost gates Of the City Celestial he waits, With his feet on the ladder of light, That, crowded with angels unnumbered, By Jacob was seen as he slumbered Alone in the desert at night? The Angels of Wind and of Fire, Chant only one hymn, and expire With the song's irresistible stress; Expire in their rapture and wonder, As harp-strings are broken asunder By music they throb to express.