 | Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) |  |
229
THE DIRGE OF THE FOUR CITIES
230
“There are four cities that no mortal eye has seen
but that the soul knows; these are Gorias, that is in
the east; and Finias, that is in the south; and Murias,
that is in the west; and Falias, that is in the north.
And the symbol of Falias is the stone of death, which
is crowned with pale fire. And the symbol of Gorias
is the dividing sword. And the symbol of Finias is
a spear. And the symbol of Murias is a hollow that
is filled with water and fading light.”
The Little Book of the
Great Enchantment.
“Wind comes from the spring star in the East; fire
from the summer star in the South; water from the
autumn star in the West; wisdom, silence and death
from the star in the North.”
The Divine Adventure.
231
THE DIRGE OF THE FOUR CITIES
[_]
“The four cities of the world that was: the sunken city of Murias, and the city of Gorias, and the city of Finias; and the city of Falias.” (Ancient Gaelic Chronicle.)
Finias and Falias,
Where are they gone?
Does the wave hide Murias—
Does Gorias know the dawn?
Does not the wind wail
In the city of gems?
Do not the prows sail
Over fallen diadems
And the spires of dim gold
And the pale palaces
Of Murias, whose tale was told
Ere the world was old?
Where are they gone?
Does the wave hide Murias—
Does Gorias know the dawn?
Does not the wind wail
In the city of gems?
Do not the prows sail
Over fallen diadems
And the spires of dim gold
And the pale palaces
Of Murias, whose tale was told
Ere the world was old?
Do women cry Alas!...
Beyond Finias?
Does the eagle pass
Seeing but her shadow on the grass
Where once was Falias:
And do her towers rise
Silent and lifeless to the frozen skies?
And do whispers and sighs
Fill the twilights of Finias
With love that has not grown cold
Since the days of old?
Beyond Finias?
Does the eagle pass
Seeing but her shadow on the grass
Where once was Falias:
And do her towers rise
Silent and lifeless to the frozen skies?
232
Fill the twilights of Finias
With love that has not grown cold
Since the days of old?
Hark to the tolling of bells
And the crying of wind!
The old spells
Time out of mind,
They are crying before me and behind!
I know now no more of my pain,
But am as the wandering rain
Or as the wind's shadow on the grass
Beyond Finias of the Dark Rose:
Or, 'mid the pinnacles and still snows
Of the Silence of Falias,
I go: or am as the wave that idly flows
Where the pale weed in songless thickets grows
Over the towers and fallen palaces
Where the Sea-city was,
The city of Murias.
And the crying of wind!
The old spells
Time out of mind,
They are crying before me and behind!
I know now no more of my pain,
But am as the wandering rain
Or as the wind's shadow on the grass
Beyond Finias of the Dark Rose:
Or, 'mid the pinnacles and still snows
Of the Silence of Falias,
I go: or am as the wave that idly flows
Where the pale weed in songless thickets grows
Over the towers and fallen palaces
Where the Sea-city was,
The city of Murias.
233
FINIAS
In the torch-lit city of Finias that flames on the brow of the South
The Spear that divideth the heart is held in a brazen mouth—
The Spear that divideth the heart is held in a brazen mouth—
Arias the flame-white keeps it, he whose laughter is heard
Where never a man has wandered, where never a god has stirred.
Where never a man has wandered, where never a god has stirred.
High kings have sought it, great queens have sought it, poets have dreamed—
And ever louder and louder the flame-white laughter of Arias streamed.
And ever louder and louder the flame-white laughter of Arias streamed.
For kingdoms shaken and queens forsaken and high hopes starved in their drouth,
These are the torches ablaze on the walls of Finias that lightens the South.
These are the torches ablaze on the walls of Finias that lightens the South.
Forbear, O Arias, forbear, forbear—lift not the dreadful Spear—
I had but dreamed of thee, Finias, Finias... now I am stricken ... now I am here!
I had but dreamed of thee, Finias, Finias... now I am stricken ... now I am here!
234
FALIAS
In the frost-grown city of Falias lit by the falling stars
I have seen the ravens flying like banners of old wars—
I have seen the snow-white ravens amid the ice-green spires
Seeking the long-lost havens of all old lost desires.
I have seen the ravens flying like banners of old wars—
I have seen the snow-white ravens amid the ice-green spires
Seeking the long-lost havens of all old lost desires.
O winged desire and broken, once nested in my heart,
Canst thou, there, give a token, that, even now, thou art?
From bitter war defeated thou too hadst flight afar,
When all my joy was cheated ere set of Morning Star.
Canst thou, there, give a token, that, even now, thou art?
From bitter war defeated thou too hadst flight afar,
When all my joy was cheated ere set of Morning Star.
Call loud; O ancient Moirias, who dwellest in that place,
Tell me if lost in Falias my old desire hath grace?
If now a snow-white raven it haunts the silent spires
For the old impossible haven 'mid the old auroral fires?
Tell me if lost in Falias my old desire hath grace?
235
For the old impossible haven 'mid the old auroral fires?
236
GORIAS
In Gorias are gems,
And pale gold,
Shining diadems
Gathered of old
From the long fragrant hair
Of dead beautiful queens.
And pale gold,
Shining diadems
Gathered of old
From the long fragrant hair
Of dead beautiful queens.
There the reaper gleans
Vast opals of white air:
The dawn leans
Upon emerald there:
Out of the dust of kings
The sunrise lifts a cloud of shimmering wings.
Vast opals of white air:
The dawn leans
Upon emerald there:
Out of the dust of kings
The sunrise lifts a cloud of shimmering wings.
In Gorias of the East
My love was born,
Erias dowered with a sword
And the treasures of the Morn—
But now all the red gems
And the pale gold
Are as the trampled diadems
Of the queens of old
In Gorias the pale-gold.
My love was born,
Erias dowered with a sword
And the treasures of the Morn—
But now all the red gems
And the pale gold
Are as the trampled diadems
Of the queens of old
In Gorias the pale-gold.
237
Have I once heard the least,
But the least breath, again?
No: my love is no more fain
Of Gorias of the East.
Erias hath sheathed this sword
Long, long ago.
My heart is old...
Though in Gorias are gems
And pale gold.
But the least breath, again?
No: my love is no more fain
Of Gorias of the East.
Erias hath sheathed this sword
Long, long ago.
My heart is old...
Though in Gorias are gems
And pale gold.
238
MURIAS
In the sunken city of Murias
A golden Image dwells:
The sea-song of the trampling waves
Is as muffled bells
Where He dwells,
In the city of Murias.
A golden Image dwells:
The sea-song of the trampling waves
Is as muffled bells
Where He dwells,
In the city of Murias.
In the sunken city of Murias
A golden Image gleams:
The loud noise of the moving seas
Is as woven beams
Where He dreams,
In the city of Murias.
A golden Image gleams:
The loud noise of the moving seas
Is as woven beams
Where He dreams,
In the city of Murias.
In the sunken city of Murias,
Deep, deep beneath the sea
The Image sits and hears Time break
The heart I gave to thee
And thou to me,
In the city of Murias.
Deep, deep beneath the sea
The Image sits and hears Time break
The heart I gave to thee
And thou to me,
In the city of Murias.
In the city of Murias,
Long, oh, so long ago,
Our souls were wed when the world was young;
Are we old now, that we know
This silent woe
In the city of Murias?
Long, oh, so long ago,
Our souls were wed when the world was young;
239
This silent woe
In the city of Murias?
In the sunken city of Murias
A graven Image dwells:
The sound of our little sobbing prayer
Is as muffled bells
Where He dwells,
In the city of Murias.
A graven Image dwells:
The sound of our little sobbing prayer
Is as muffled bells
Where He dwells,
In the city of Murias.
| Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) | |