The Icelandic Canadian - 01.10.1942, Síða 28

The Icelandic Canadian - 01.10.1942, Síða 28
24 THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN Then he took a deep breath, broke into a run, stopped for an instant on the perilous brink; then hurled him- self across the dreadful gap. The re- bound, as he landed on the rock on the other side, almost threw him back into the Gorge, but he recovered his balance and ran. nimbly down the bank. There came eagle and salmon float- ing past the bank on the edge of the whirlpool. John made a noose on the end of the reins and threw it over the struggling pair, then braced himself against the stones on the bank and pulled. It tightened around the salmon but slipped off again and the eagle went partly under. The salmon was dragging it down! “Dear God, help me!” breathed Jon as he threw again. This time the noose held, and he pulled the interlocked pair out of the water. In spite of its exhaustion, the sharp eyes of the eagle snapped fiercely, as if saying, “Don’t touch me! Don”t touch me!” Bird and boy looked at one another for a moment. The king of birds, trap- ped by his own greed, and the fair- haired descendant of Vikings, once as ruthless as the eagle, but now mellowed by centuries of civilization. Then, in an upsurge of strength, the mighty wings flapped boldly and with a sudden wrench the eagle tore itself free and soared aloft, leaving its prize glisten- ing like a bar of silver at Jon’s feet. A king’s ransom for a king’s release! With a feeling of fierce joy Jon watched the eagle sailing upwards into the cloudless blue. “Thank God!” was his first thought. It was more a state of mind than a prayer. He felt as if shackles had fallen from him too; as if he too had acquired new strength, and a limitless horizon. For a long time he sat there and gazed after the eagle. Even when it was lost in the blue be still sat there staring upwards, wrapped in glowing thought. The song of Deatli Leap Gorge had lost its ominous sound —all its terror and dark menace. It had instead the cadence of grand, triumph- ant strength. Jon now felt himself master of his fate. He had conquered Death Leap Gorge. THE BLACKBIRD PASSES BY A flash of black against an autumn sky— A fluted cry, exultant, shrill and high, The red-winged black-bird, singing, passes by. Across the meadow tightly fenced around, As if to keep its freedom safely bound, He darts and dips toward the golden ground. Upon a post he pauses just to see The sun-bathed grasses stirring sombrely, And flaps his wings with joy to be so free.’ Out on the wire he sang, a coal black king, And flaunts the scarlet of his wondrous wing. The seal of God who gave him voice to sing. A flash of black against a crimson sky. Into the sunset merging with his cry. The redwinged blackbird, singing, passes by. Laura Goodman Salverson (From the Yearbook of Verse)

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The Icelandic Canadian

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