Serene, vast head, with silver cloud of hair
Lined on the purple dusk of death,
A stern medallion, velvet set—
Old Norseman, throned, not chained upon thy chair,
Thy grasp of hand, thy hearty breath
    Of welcome thrills me yet
    As when I faced thee there!

Loving my plain as thou thy sea,
Facing the East as thou the West,...