 | Blanid |  |
226
THE SLAYING OF CUROI AND THE REVENGE OF HIS MINSTREL.
Green are the hills of early summer-time,
And lingering long their emerald glories fade,
When Autumn with slow steps begins to climb
Their breezy fronts from the brown forest shade,
Nipping the grass and flowers with frosty rime,
Till long-drawn glen and bosky upland glade,
Broad shadowy moor and skyey mountain spire,
Put on their heathery robes of purple fire.
And lingering long their emerald glories fade,
When Autumn with slow steps begins to climb
Their breezy fronts from the brown forest shade,
Nipping the grass and flowers with frosty rime,
Till long-drawn glen and bosky upland glade,
Broad shadowy moor and skyey mountain spire,
Put on their heathery robes of purple fire.
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And slowly as it comes, it fades away,
The glory of the heather's purple glow,
Like human grandeur born but to decay
As the long years glide on with footsteps slow;—
The woods are bare, the hills are cold and gray,
The cheerless morns no genial heat bestow;
And thus the earth changed with the changing sun
Till Winter and the Samhain feast came on.
The glory of the heather's purple glow,
Like human grandeur born but to decay
As the long years glide on with footsteps slow;—
The woods are bare, the hills are cold and gray,
The cheerless morns no genial heat bestow;
And thus the earth changed with the changing sun
Till Winter and the Samhain feast came on.
One day, before the feast, the old dame sat
By the bower window of her foster child,
And looked upon the northern moorland flat,
And saw a horseman spurring from the wild,
And laughed, and rubbed her withered hands thereat,
And on her foster daughter looked and smiled
A crafty smile, exulting as she said,
“Behold the first crumb of his bitter bread!
By the bower window of her foster child,
And looked upon the northern moorland flat,
And saw a horseman spurring from the wild,
And laughed, and rubbed her withered hands thereat,
And on her foster daughter looked and smiled
A crafty smile, exulting as she said,
“Behold the first crumb of his bitter bread!
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“I was not born yesterday. I know
The wiles of courts, the unstable hearts of men,
And this sweet tongue some little seed did sow
Within these walls, that have sprung up again
In fruit whose baleful taste is war and woe.
See the good horseman how he scours the glen!
How up the stony path his harness rings!
Black with fell wrath be all the news he brings!”
The wiles of courts, the unstable hearts of men,
And this sweet tongue some little seed did sow
Within these walls, that have sprung up again
In fruit whose baleful taste is war and woe.
See the good horseman how he scours the glen!
How up the stony path his harness rings!
Black with fell wrath be all the news he brings!”
With clash and clang the horseman passed the gate,
With tottering steps he gained the lofty hall,
And to the knights assembled 'gan relate
How Roving Angus of the Iron Maul
Fell upon Lora, wreaking his fierce hate
On kith and kin of Ademar the Tall,
The bravest knight that e'er in battle tide
Put lance in rest by noble Curoi's side.
With tottering steps he gained the lofty hall,
And to the knights assembled 'gan relate
How Roving Angus of the Iron Maul
Fell upon Lora, wreaking his fierce hate
On kith and kin of Ademar the Tall,
The bravest knight that e'er in battle tide
Put lance in rest by noble Curoi's side.
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And soon the northern causeway gleamed with steel,
As Ademar went off with all his power,
And as the sun with golden chariot-wheel
Had sought 'neath crimson clouds his western bower,
With dying steed that scarce the spur could feel,
Another courier came from Barra's tower
To tell unto the knights his tale forlorn
How Talc the Pirate sacked it on that morn.
As Ademar went off with all his power,
And as the sun with golden chariot-wheel
Had sought 'neath crimson clouds his western bower,
With dying steed that scarce the spur could feel,
Another courier came from Barra's tower
To tell unto the knights his tale forlorn
How Talc the Pirate sacked it on that morn.
Next day a messenger from Brann the Red
With gory spur came o'er the eastern moors
To tell them how the Hold of Dunigled
Was fast besieged by rascal slaves and boors,
How scarce its ancient towers in conflict dread
Their ruffian war another day endures,
And asking for a gallant knightly band
With conquering spears to quell their bloody hand.
With gory spur came o'er the eastern moors
To tell them how the Hold of Dunigled
Was fast besieged by rascal slaves and boors,
How scarce its ancient towers in conflict dread
Their ruffian war another day endures,
And asking for a gallant knightly band
With conquering spears to quell their bloody hand.
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And thus the couriers came; thus forth they went,
The knights and men, to the far border lands,
And as an evil sprite from hell upsent
The old dame glided round and rubbed her hands,
And smiled and leered in her false merriment,
And brewed her cruel plot, till of his bands
Remained with Curoi only ten good spears.
When Samhain's sun rose o'er the eastern meres.
The knights and men, to the far border lands,
And as an evil sprite from hell upsent
The old dame glided round and rubbed her hands,
And smiled and leered in her false merriment,
And brewed her cruel plot, till of his bands
Remained with Curoi only ten good spears.
When Samhain's sun rose o'er the eastern meres.
An hour before the fires were all alight
By stead and town, temple, and village green,
In worship of the mild Queen of the night,
The old dame stole adown the forest screen,
Till by a lonely brook that took its flight
Murmuring two tangled banks of wood between,
She found Dun Dalgan's lord in ambush hid
With many a mail-clad man the copse amid.
By stead and town, temple, and village green,
In worship of the mild Queen of the night,
The old dame stole adown the forest screen,
Till by a lonely brook that took its flight
Murmuring two tangled banks of wood between,
She found Dun Dalgan's lord in ambush hid
With many a mail-clad man the copse amid.
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“And O thou faithful knight!” she whispered low,
“The hour is nigh thine own beloved to save;
Watch well this sounding stream, and when the glow
Thou mark'st of white swan's feathers on its wave
That I as signal for the deed shall throw
Into its bed above, then bare thy glaive
And with thy warriors storm the hold, and slay
And work the bitter vengeance as ye may!”
“The hour is nigh thine own beloved to save;
Watch well this sounding stream, and when the glow
Thou mark'st of white swan's feathers on its wave
That I as signal for the deed shall throw
Into its bed above, then bare thy glaive
And with thy warriors storm the hold, and slay
And work the bitter vengeance as ye may!”
Meanwhile, as evening o'er the valleys threw
Its mantle gray, within his lordly hall
Sat the great knight amidst a merry crew
Of squires and pages, gladsome one and all;
There some with eyes intent the hazard drew,
Some the white dice upon the board let fall,
Some quaffed the golden mead, some moved the chess,
Laughing the while in their full happiness.
Its mantle gray, within his lordly hall
Sat the great knight amidst a merry crew
Of squires and pages, gladsome one and all;
There some with eyes intent the hazard drew,
Some the white dice upon the board let fall,
Some quaffed the golden mead, some moved the chess,
Laughing the while in their full happiness.
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Stately he sat, a smile on his brown face,
As he looked round upon the revelry,
His scarlet robe thrown back with kingly grace,
His saffron tunic flowing to his knee,
With golden belt that showed the cunning trace
In gems of monsters of the land and sea,
With gorget glittering, and dark locks bare
Silvered a little by the helmet's wear.
As he looked round upon the revelry,
His scarlet robe thrown back with kingly grace,
His saffron tunic flowing to his knee,
With golden belt that showed the cunning trace
In gems of monsters of the land and sea,
With gorget glittering, and dark locks bare
Silvered a little by the helmet's wear.
In his right hand he raised a sparkling bowl,
And “Fill,” he said, “O merry friends of mine,
And drink unto the mistress of my soul,
Blanid, the peerless one, the dame divine!
And though she weep betimes, as seasons roll,
May she wax glad again, and may she shine
In her bright beauty fresh as roses red
That deck the garden bowers when Winter's dead!”
And “Fill,” he said, “O merry friends of mine,
And drink unto the mistress of my soul,
Blanid, the peerless one, the dame divine!
And though she weep betimes, as seasons roll,
May she wax glad again, and may she shine
In her bright beauty fresh as roses red
That deck the garden bowers when Winter's dead!”
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And she within her bower lay hid, each sound
From the far banquet-hall that reached her ear
Making her heart with new-fledged terrors bound;
While the old foster-dame went far and near
From door to door the joyous castle round,
And oft into the banquet-hall would peer,
Oft to the postern gate would secret go,
Watching her time the signal white to throw.
From the far banquet-hall that reached her ear
Making her heart with new-fledged terrors bound;
While the old foster-dame went far and near
From door to door the joyous castle round,
And oft into the banquet-hall would peer,
Oft to the postern gate would secret go,
Watching her time the signal white to throw.
And still within the darksome forest glen
Cuhullin lay, and watched the darkness come,
And all was silent round, save now and then
From the bright castle doors would float a hum
Of merriment, or from the moory fen
The curlew's whistle or the bittern's drum
Would sound inconstant, till a breeze blew chill,
And the white moon clomb o'er the eastern hill.
Cuhullin lay, and watched the darkness come,
And all was silent round, save now and then
From the bright castle doors would float a hum
Of merriment, or from the moory fen
The curlew's whistle or the bittern's drum
Would sound inconstant, till a breeze blew chill,
And the white moon clomb o'er the eastern hill.
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Then all at once the Samhain fires outblazed
To welcome night's mild Empress, bright and high
On the round-shouldered mountains some upraised,
Some low adown flaring against the sky;
But noting naught of them, Cuhullin gazed
Into the darksome waters hurrying by,
Starting at every leaf and moonlight gleam
That whirled and flashed upon the lonely stream.
To welcome night's mild Empress, bright and high
On the round-shouldered mountains some upraised,
Some low adown flaring against the sky;
But noting naught of them, Cuhullin gazed
Into the darksome waters hurrying by,
Starting at every leaf and moonlight gleam
That whirled and flashed upon the lonely stream.
At length, as higher rose the moon's pale rays
Over the withered trees, and on the tide
Flickered in flakes of snowy pearl, his gaze
Caught the first gleaming of the white swan's pride
Floating adown; and as a wolf that stays
All night within his lair, and long has eyed
Its woodland prey and sees it near, he sprang
Unto his feet, and while with mighty clang
Over the withered trees, and on the tide
Flickered in flakes of snowy pearl, his gaze
Caught the first gleaming of the white swan's pride
Floating adown; and as a wolf that stays
All night within his lair, and long has eyed
Its woodland prey and sees it near, he sprang
Unto his feet, and while with mighty clang
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Of mail-jacks and of clattering spears, his kin
Followed him, 'cross the stream he sprang, and fast
Out from the shadow of the dark ravine
And up the moonlit hill-sides fierce they passed
Unto the castle gate with furious din,
And fell on the scant guard, who all aghast
Stood at the porch and met the bloody shock
Like withered fern before the falling rock.
Followed him, 'cross the stream he sprang, and fast
Out from the shadow of the dark ravine
And up the moonlit hill-sides fierce they passed
Unto the castle gate with furious din,
And fell on the scant guard, who all aghast
Stood at the porch and met the bloody shock
Like withered fern before the falling rock.
And then, as ocean's tide, wild wave on wave,
Driven before the storm, with deafening roar,
Hurry, and turmoil fills some yawning cave
Tossing its spray on high, so through the door,
In one bewildering whirl of plume and glaive,
They filled the hall, and with dread shouts down bore
The revellers' faint resistance, all save him
Who now stood looking on them cold and grim.
Driven before the storm, with deafening roar,
Hurry, and turmoil fills some yawning cave
Tossing its spray on high, so through the door,
In one bewildering whirl of plume and glaive,
They filled the hall, and with dread shouts down bore
The revellers' faint resistance, all save him
Who now stood looking on them cold and grim.
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Against the wall he stood, his eagle eye
Glancing around upon the bloody wrack
Seeking his foe, then reached his hand on high
And seized a brazen maul, and to the attack
Like the red lightning-bolt that cleaves the sky
He sprang, and, for a moment's space, beat back
The hedge of spears, till, drenched with hostile blood,
He gained the spot where fierce Cuhullin stood.
Glancing around upon the bloody wrack
Seeking his foe, then reached his hand on high
And seized a brazen maul, and to the attack
Like the red lightning-bolt that cleaves the sky
He sprang, and, for a moment's space, beat back
The hedge of spears, till, drenched with hostile blood,
He gained the spot where fierce Cuhullin stood.
There from a soldier's arm he tore the targe
And poised it o'er his breast with warm blood wet,
And with tall knee advanced looked o'er its marge
Into his foeman's eyes, and, fearless yet,
With a great bound leapt forward to the charge,
Shouting his cry of war, but ere they met,
Pierced by a score of spears he fell, the tide
Of life fast welling from his riven side.
And poised it o'er his breast with warm blood wet,
And with tall knee advanced looked o'er its marge
Into his foeman's eyes, and, fearless yet,
With a great bound leapt forward to the charge,
Shouting his cry of war, but ere they met,
Pierced by a score of spears he fell, the tide
Of life fast welling from his riven side.
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Then hard a jackman smote him as he bled,
But as the spear-but whirled on high again,
Cuhullin sheered away the caitiff's head,
And kneeling down in strange remorse and pain
By the great knight, “O man of men!” he said,
“I'd give my life and all my broad domain
To see thee as thou wert, my brother true
In camp and court ere strife between us grew!”
But as the spear-but whirled on high again,
Cuhullin sheered away the caitiff's head,
And kneeling down in strange remorse and pain
By the great knight, “O man of men!” he said,
“I'd give my life and all my broad domain
To see thee as thou wert, my brother true
In camp and court ere strife between us grew!”
Once moved his lips with words he could not say,
Once rolled his eyes his ruined hall around,
And he was dead! Upon the hill-side gray,
High o'er the mournful beach, they made his mound;
And as the mountain tops 'neath morning's ray
Threw off their circling vapors, northward bound,
Cuhullin rode along the woodlands bare
With his stout followers and his lady fair.
Once rolled his eyes his ruined hall around,
And he was dead! Upon the hill-side gray,
High o'er the mournful beach, they made his mound;
And as the mountain tops 'neath morning's ray
Threw off their circling vapors, northward bound,
Cuhullin rode along the woodlands bare
With his stout followers and his lady fair.
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Upon the new-raised mound all drearily
Sat Curoi's minstrel brooding in his woe,
One day that upward moaning from the sea
Through the sere wood the wind began to blow:
Naught recked he of the wild wind's wrath or glee,
For of the mighty man who lay below
Sleeping for aye the thoughts would constant rise
And swell his heart and blind with tears his eyes.
Sat Curoi's minstrel brooding in his woe,
One day that upward moaning from the sea
Through the sere wood the wind began to blow:
Naught recked he of the wild wind's wrath or glee,
For of the mighty man who lay below
Sleeping for aye the thoughts would constant rise
And swell his heart and blind with tears his eyes.
At length he took his harp, and, low at first,
Woke its thin voice in mournful preludings;
Then high and clear a wailing strain outburst
'Neath his light fingers from the trembling strings;
Then frowning with black brows like one athirst
For blood and for the joy that vengeance brings,
He left the mound, strode down the hill-side gray,
And to the northward took his weary way.
Woke its thin voice in mournful preludings;
Then high and clear a wailing strain outburst
'Neath his light fingers from the trembling strings;
Then frowning with black brows like one athirst
For blood and for the joy that vengeance brings,
He left the mound, strode down the hill-side gray,
And to the northward took his weary way.
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And many a sight he saw by dale and down,
Wandering till Winter's snows began to fade
From the rejoicing hills, and his renown
Preceded him, and wheresoe'er he strayed
The people flocked from village, tower, and town
To hear the wondrous music that he made
On his weird harp,—a thing from heaven downsent,—
And crowned him first of bards where'er he went!
Wandering till Winter's snows began to fade
From the rejoicing hills, and his renown
Preceded him, and wheresoe'er he strayed
The people flocked from village, tower, and town
To hear the wondrous music that he made
On his weird harp,—a thing from heaven downsent,—
And crowned him first of bards where'er he went!
The village urchin and the maiden shy,
The matron staid, the soldier brave and young,
The aged carle, stood each with tearful eye
And wept betimes at the sad songs he sung;
And thus he roamed till day by day the sky
Grew warmer, and the budding blossoms hung
From the laburnum and the lilac pale,
And the young grass in emerald robed the vale.
The matron staid, the soldier brave and young,
The aged carle, stood each with tearful eye
And wept betimes at the sad songs he sung;
And thus he roamed till day by day the sky
Grew warmer, and the budding blossoms hung
From the laburnum and the lilac pale,
And the young grass in emerald robed the vale.
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And day by day, as still he wandered on
From side to side, but always north, the hills
Grew brighter, o'er the breezy moorlands dun
The young lambs gambolled, and the streams and rills
Sang songs of gladness, for the amorous sun
Kissed them not vainly, till with gentle thrills
The warm winds played amidst the opening bowers,
And all the meads were gay with Springtide flowers.
From side to side, but always north, the hills
Grew brighter, o'er the breezy moorlands dun
The young lambs gambolled, and the streams and rills
Sang songs of gladness, for the amorous sun
Kissed them not vainly, till with gentle thrills
The warm winds played amidst the opening bowers,
And all the meads were gay with Springtide flowers.
And Summer came; the corn-stalks marshalled stood
O'er the bright fields in all their greenery,
The foxglove's glorious crimson edged the wood,
The wild rose laughed, the gleaming apple-tree
Showered down its blossoms on the linnet's brood
That chirped amid its branches; glad and free
All things o'er Nature's throbbing bosom glowed,
Save the fierce minstrel on his weary road.
O'er the bright fields in all their greenery,
The foxglove's glorious crimson edged the wood,
The wild rose laughed, the gleaming apple-tree
Showered down its blossoms on the linnet's brood
That chirped amid its branches; glad and free
All things o'er Nature's throbbing bosom glowed,
Save the fierce minstrel on his weary road.
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And as he wandered on, one sunny day,
Where four roads crossed within a beechen screen
He saw through the thin branches far away
The glint of mail-rings and the brassy sheen
Of targets and the glow of helmets gay,
Of scarlet mantles and of tunics green,
And dim beneath the sun-enlivened trees
A country multitude surrounding these.
Where four roads crossed within a beechen screen
He saw through the thin branches far away
The glint of mail-rings and the brassy sheen
Of targets and the glow of helmets gay,
Of scarlet mantles and of tunics green,
And dim beneath the sun-enlivened trees
A country multitude surrounding these.
And as with weary steps he drew anigh,
Four trumpeters on silver trumpets played
A melody with long-drawn notes and high,
Then a great cymbal-clash wild clamor made;
And then a stately man with haughty eye,
The king's own herald, in bright robes arrayed,
Upraised his truncheon with red gold aflame,
And to the wondering people 'gan proclaim:—
Four trumpeters on silver trumpets played
A melody with long-drawn notes and high,
Then a great cymbal-clash wild clamor made;
And then a stately man with haughty eye,
The king's own herald, in bright robes arrayed,
Upraised his truncheon with red gold aflame,
And to the wondering people 'gan proclaim:—
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“O men! O men! O men! pale Death is strong
And life is weak; and, like the withered grass,
Before his dreadful scythe the lord of song,
The King's own bard, to Death's dim realm did pass
Not long ago; and now all things are wrong
With the great King, for, like false-sounding brass,
Or jarring notes of a cracked virginal,
The next bard's songs upon his sad ears fall!
And life is weak; and, like the withered grass,
Before his dreadful scythe the lord of song,
The King's own bard, to Death's dim realm did pass
Not long ago; and now all things are wrong
With the great King, for, like false-sounding brass,
Or jarring notes of a cracked virginal,
The next bard's songs upon his sad ears fall!
“And 't is for this the silver trumpets blow,
For this the brazen cymbals clash and ring,
And 't is for this I wander to and fro,—
To find a bard will please my lord the King;
And I have journeyed far, and yet must go
Still farther, till to Eman's halls I bring
Some wondrous bard, some magic-fingered one,
Will please my lord the King like him that's gone!”
For this the brazen cymbals clash and ring,
And 't is for this I wander to and fro,—
To find a bard will please my lord the King;
And I have journeyed far, and yet must go
Still farther, till to Eman's halls I bring
Some wondrous bard, some magic-fingered one,
Will please my lord the King like him that's gone!”
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Then sat the dust-soiled minstrel sullen down,
Unslung his harp and bared its strings of gold
Before them all, and, with a troubled frown,
Played a light-tinkling prelude, and, behold!
Strange bliss the listeners' cares began to drown;
Then voice and harp-notes, mingled sweet, uprolled
In a great soul-entrancing wondrous lay
That stole the hearts from out their breasts straightway!
Unslung his harp and bared its strings of gold
Before them all, and, with a troubled frown,
Played a light-tinkling prelude, and, behold!
Strange bliss the listeners' cares began to drown;
Then voice and harp-notes, mingled sweet, uprolled
In a great soul-entrancing wondrous lay
That stole the hearts from out their breasts straightway!
And when the lay was done, a glad thrill ran
Through the great crowd, and high before them all
The herald spoke: “O sweet-tongued, marvellous man,
Blest be the day I see thee! Bitter gall
Seems the best music that since life began
I've heard near thine. Never, in cot or hall,
Heard serf, or lord, or lady, one like thee!
Arise, and come to the King's house with me!”
Through the great crowd, and high before them all
The herald spoke: “O sweet-tongued, marvellous man,
Blest be the day I see thee! Bitter gall
Seems the best music that since life began
I've heard near thine. Never, in cot or hall,
Heard serf, or lord, or lady, one like thee!
Arise, and come to the King's house with me!”
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And so it fell the minstrel must abide
In the King's house, in gay apparel clad,
And many a merry lay he sang belied
His inward thoughts, for a sore heart he had.
Then came the Beltain feast, when all the pride
Of Ulad's nobles came with bosoms glad
From many a moated town to Eman's hall
At the king's word to hold high festival.
In the King's house, in gay apparel clad,
And many a merry lay he sang belied
His inward thoughts, for a sore heart he had.
Then came the Beltain feast, when all the pride
Of Ulad's nobles came with bosoms glad
From many a moated town to Eman's hall
At the king's word to hold high festival.
And there Cuhullin came; and with him came
Bright Blanid, and love's boundless happiness
Had blotted from her mind the very name
And memory of the bard, yet none the less
The dark man with his furtive eyes of flame
Eyed her with rage his soul could scarce suppress,
As through the gorgeous throng each day she moved
In peerless beauty loving and beloved.
Bright Blanid, and love's boundless happiness
Had blotted from her mind the very name
And memory of the bard, yet none the less
The dark man with his furtive eyes of flame
Eyed her with rage his soul could scarce suppress,
As through the gorgeous throng each day she moved
In peerless beauty loving and beloved.
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Three days the feast went on; on the fourth morn
The glad hawks shook their wings and silver bells
In the King's mews, the hounds, that all forlorn
In kennel slept, now woke with joyous yells
As the King's huntsman wound his echoing horn;
And soon both King and court amid the dells
With hawk and hound went out to hunt the deer
And start the heron gray by brook and mere.
The glad hawks shook their wings and silver bells
In the King's mews, the hounds, that all forlorn
In kennel slept, now woke with joyous yells
As the King's huntsman wound his echoing horn;
And soon both King and court amid the dells
With hawk and hound went out to hunt the deer
And start the heron gray by brook and mere.
Three days they hunted; on the third the chase
Led them unto the high top of a hill,
And there upon a breezy sunlit space
They reined their steeds; before them a bright rill
Ran through a ferny gorge down th' eastern face
Of a steep slope in glittering falls, until
It reached a dale, where 'neath man's peaceful reign
Spread homesteads, gardens, groves, and fields of grain.
Led them unto the high top of a hill,
And there upon a breezy sunlit space
They reined their steeds; before them a bright rill
Ran through a ferny gorge down th' eastern face
Of a steep slope in glittering falls, until
It reached a dale, where 'neath man's peaceful reign
Spread homesteads, gardens, groves, and fields of grain.
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Beyond the dale's rich verge, embellishèd
By many a stately tree, a forest grew,
Then a broad gleaming moorland far outspread,
Wrapped in light azure haze, then to the view
A cape raised high its wave-impending head,
Then shimmering golden-green and silvery blue,
Like a wide mead of Asphodel, the sea
Stretched to the heavens its grand immensity.
By many a stately tree, a forest grew,
Then a broad gleaming moorland far outspread,
Wrapped in light azure haze, then to the view
A cape raised high its wave-impending head,
Then shimmering golden-green and silvery blue,
Like a wide mead of Asphodel, the sea
Stretched to the heavens its grand immensity.
Adown the slope they went, across the plain
And thro' the wood and up the cape's proud neck
To the flat top, where the soft summer rain
Brought from the grass wild-flowers in many a speck.
There from their steeds they lighted, and full fain
The squires and pages at the blithe King's beck
Went to and fro, in merry mood, while fast
They pitched the tents and spread the gay repast.
And thro' the wood and up the cape's proud neck
To the flat top, where the soft summer rain
Brought from the grass wild-flowers in many a speck.
There from their steeds they lighted, and full fain
The squires and pages at the blithe King's beck
Went to and fro, in merry mood, while fast
They pitched the tents and spread the gay repast.
247
And as they sat, in glorious symphony
The sea made music, and the summer air
Played in the branches of each wildwood tree
That round the cape's flat top grew here and there;
The heavens shone bright, and midst that company
The mead went round in jewelled goblets rare,
The wine-cup sparkled, eyes met loving eyes,
And young hearts throbbed, and laughter gay did rise.
The sea made music, and the summer air
Played in the branches of each wildwood tree
That round the cape's flat top grew here and there;
The heavens shone bright, and midst that company
The mead went round in jewelled goblets rare,
The wine-cup sparkled, eyes met loving eyes,
And young hearts throbbed, and laughter gay did rise.
Then some to cull the mountain flowers would go,
Some danced upon the sward, within the tent
Some hid them from the noontide sultry glow,
Some plied the wine-cup in light merriment;
And she, the Bloom-bright One, now wandered slow
Down to the cape's impending verge, and leant
Against an aged thorn that drooping stood
Through many a changing year o'er ocean's flood.
Some danced upon the sward, within the tent
Some hid them from the noontide sultry glow,
Some plied the wine-cup in light merriment;
And she, the Bloom-bright One, now wandered slow
Down to the cape's impending verge, and leant
Against an aged thorn that drooping stood
Through many a changing year o'er ocean's flood.
248
Pensive she stood against the mossy stem
In her full joy, the roses of life's May
Tingeing her cheeks once more, and many a gem
Sparkling within her tresses golden gay;—
Over the waves she leant, and looked on them
As one who on a village green the play
Of children sees, and smiles as memory
Brings back some glimpse of childhood and its glee.
In her full joy, the roses of life's May
Tingeing her cheeks once more, and many a gem
Sparkling within her tresses golden gay;—
Over the waves she leant, and looked on them
As one who on a village green the play
Of children sees, and smiles as memory
Brings back some glimpse of childhood and its glee.
Anigh her sat the bard, his dark head bare,
His wild keen eyes with a strange brightness filled,
The sea-breeze blowing through his curling hair,
The sunshine gleaming as if but to gild
His harp-frame richly wrought; and smiling there
Anon the King came down, then sweetly thrilled
The music, and the courtiers gathered round
To hear the wondrous bard his harp-strings sound.
His wild keen eyes with a strange brightness filled,
The sea-breeze blowing through his curling hair,
The sunshine gleaming as if but to gild
His harp-frame richly wrought; and smiling there
Anon the King came down, then sweetly thrilled
The music, and the courtiers gathered round
To hear the wondrous bard his harp-strings sound.
249
Then soft he touched the strings and made them speak
In low love music, whose delightful tone
Deepened the roses red on Blanid's cheek,
Now like high trumpets on a war-field blown
He clashed the wires and sang, then low and weak
In dying sobs the melody did moan,
Then voice and strings broke forth in one wild wail
Of woe, that up the bright heaven seemed to sail!
In low love music, whose delightful tone
Deepened the roses red on Blanid's cheek,
Now like high trumpets on a war-field blown
He clashed the wires and sang, then low and weak
In dying sobs the melody did moan,
Then voice and strings broke forth in one wild wail
Of woe, that up the bright heaven seemed to sail!
Up sprang he then, his eyes with rage alight,
And dashed his harp down with a crashing clang,
And clutched the Bright One, and ere lord or knight
Could rush between them, o'er the cliff he sprang,
Clutching her closely still! Along the height
His last weird shout of vengeance lessening rang,
As far beneath amid the breakers' roar
They disappeared, and ne'er were looked on more!
And dashed his harp down with a crashing clang,
And clutched the Bright One, and ere lord or knight
Could rush between them, o'er the cliff he sprang,
Clutching her closely still! Along the height
His last weird shout of vengeance lessening rang,
As far beneath amid the breakers' roar
They disappeared, and ne'er were looked on more!
| Blanid | |