Poems By William Bell Scott. Ballads, Studies from Nature, Sonnets, etc. Illustrated by Seventeen Etchings by the Author and L. Alma Tadema |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
|
FOURTH.
SAINT CUTHBERT'S DEATH.
|
 | Poems |  |
250
FOURTH. SAINT CUTHBERT'S DEATH.
My words are few and like the days
That o'er this brow may flit
Ere you my brethren well-beloved
See my mass-tapers lit.
That o'er this brow may flit
Ere you my brethren well-beloved
See my mass-tapers lit.
Saint Cuthbert knew before they came,
When death-pains he should dree,
And for the last time took the cup
Kneeling on naked knee.
When death-pains he should dree,
And for the last time took the cup
Kneeling on naked knee.
Then turned he on the altar-steps
Amidst the altar's light,
And laid aside his ring and staff,
And cope so richly dight.
Amidst the altar's light,
And laid aside his ring and staff,
And cope so richly dight.
Lastly he doffed his mitre there,
And every one 'gan weep:
Quickly he blessed them: then went forth
As a child that goes to sleep.
And every one 'gan weep:
Quickly he blessed them: then went forth
As a child that goes to sleep.
251
‘Now follow me not,’ said he, ‘no one
Must follow me I trow,
Save a brother who can hold the oar,
I need none other now.’
Must follow me I trow,
Save a brother who can hold the oar,
I need none other now.’
They kissed his garments' hem and feet,
They kissed them o'er and o'er,
And many times they stayed him quite
That they might kiss them more.
But he had caused them all to go
Before he reached the shore.
They kissed them o'er and o'er,
And many times they stayed him quite
That they might kiss them more.
But he had caused them all to go
Before he reached the shore.
And now he seats him in the boat
With a rower by his side,—
Along the greenery of the sea
And foam-blossom they glide.
With a rower by his side,—
Along the greenery of the sea
And foam-blossom they glide.
Soon they come to the long black swell
That heaves their bark about:
Hark, on the naked craigs of Ferne,
The breakers, how they shout!
That heaves their bark about:
Hark, on the naked craigs of Ferne,
The breakers, how they shout!
Nearer they come, the boatman now
Holds on to the landing-stone,
Saint Cuthbert riseth from his seat
And totters out alone.
Holds on to the landing-stone,
Saint Cuthbert riseth from his seat
And totters out alone.
252
‘Father,’ said the boatman, ‘now
The sun dips in the sea,—
Must I return alone, and when
Shall I come back for thee?’
The sun dips in the sea,—
Must I return alone, and when
Shall I come back for thee?’
The west was red, the cold wind blew,
The clouds were gathering grim,
Twilight was settling into night,
When Cuthbert answered him:
The clouds were gathering grim,
Twilight was settling into night,
When Cuthbert answered him:
‘Come when it seemeth good to thee,
Or come no more at all,
But if thou com'st uncowl thy head,
And bring with thee a pall.’
Or come no more at all,
But if thou com'st uncowl thy head,
And bring with thee a pall.’
No more the rower asked, but watched
The feeble feet go on,
When lo, the door of his ancient hut
Was opened gently from within.
And an odorous light
Streamed out on the night;
He entered, and it closed him in;
The Saint to heaven was gone.
The feeble feet go on,
When lo, the door of his ancient hut
Was opened gently from within.
And an odorous light
Streamed out on the night;
He entered, and it closed him in;
The Saint to heaven was gone.
| Poems | |