 | Lays of the Highlands and Islands |  |
55
ORKNEY.
THE OLD MAN OF HOY.
The old man of Hoy
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To hear the deep roar of the wide blue ocean,
And to stand unmoved 'mid the sleepless motion,
And to feel o'er his head
The white foam spread
From the wild wave proudly swelling,
And to care no whit
For the storm's rude fit
Where he stands on his old rock-dwelling,
This rare old man of Hoy.
The old man of Hoy
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To look on the flight of the wild sea-mew,
With their hoar nests hung o'er the waters blue;
To see them swing
On plunging wing,
And to hear their shrill notes swelling,
And with them to reply
To the storm's war-cry,
As he stands on his old rock-dwelling;
This rare old man of Hoy.
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To hear the deep roar of the wide blue ocean,
And to stand unmoved 'mid the sleepless motion,
And to feel o'er his head
The white foam spread
From the wild wave proudly swelling,
And to care no whit
For the storm's rude fit
Where he stands on his old rock-dwelling,
This rare old man of Hoy.
56
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To look on the flight of the wild sea-mew,
With their hoar nests hung o'er the waters blue;
To see them swing
On plunging wing,
And to hear their shrill notes swelling,
And with them to reply
To the storm's war-cry,
As he stands on his old rock-dwelling;
This rare old man of Hoy.
The old man of Hoy
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong, and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
When the sea is white, and the sky is black,
And the helmless ship drives on like wrack,
To see it dash
At his feet with a crash,
And the sailors' death-note knelling,
And to hear their shrieks
With pitiless cheeks,
This stern old man of Hoy.
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong, and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
When the sea is white, and the sky is black,
57
To see it dash
At his feet with a crash,
And the sailors' death-note knelling,
And to hear their shrieks
With pitiless cheeks,
This stern old man of Hoy.
The old man of Hoy
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong, and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To think on the pride of the sea-kings old,
Harolds, and Ronalds, and Sigurds bold,
Whose might was felt,
By the cowering Celt,
When he heard their war-cry yelling;
But the sea-kings are gone,
And he stands alone,
Firm on his old rock-dwelling,
This stout old man of Hoy.
The old man of Hoy
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To think on the gods that were mighty of yore,
Braga, and Baldur, and Odin, and Thor,
And giants of power
In fateful hour,
'Gainst the great gods rebelling:
But the gods are all dead,
And he rears his head
Alone from his old rock-dwelling,
This stiff old man of Hoy.
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong, and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To think on the pride of the sea-kings old,
Harolds, and Ronalds, and Sigurds bold,
Whose might was felt,
By the cowering Celt,
When he heard their war-cry yelling;
But the sea-kings are gone,
And he stands alone,
Firm on his old rock-dwelling,
This stout old man of Hoy.
58
Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free:
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
And the old man of Hoy
Hath this great joy,
To think on the gods that were mighty of yore,
Braga, and Baldur, and Odin, and Thor,
And giants of power
In fateful hour,
'Gainst the great gods rebelling:
But the gods are all dead,
And he rears his head
Alone from his old rock-dwelling,
This stiff old man of Hoy.
But listen to me,
Old man of the sea,
List to the Skulda that speaketh by me;
The Nornies are weaving a web for thee,
Thou old man of Hoy,
To ruin thy joy,
And to make thee shrink from the lash of the ocean,
And teach thee to quake with a strange commotion,
When over thy head
And under thy bed
The rampant wave is swelling,
And thou shalt die
Neath a pitiless sky,
And reel from thine old rock-dwelling,
Thou stout old man of Hoy!
Old man of the sea,
List to the Skulda that speaketh by me;
The Nornies are weaving a web for thee,
Thou old man of Hoy,
To ruin thy joy,
And to make thee shrink from the lash of the ocean,
59
When over thy head
And under thy bed
The rampant wave is swelling,
And thou shalt die
Neath a pitiless sky,
And reel from thine old rock-dwelling,
Thou stout old man of Hoy!
60
THE DEATH OF HACO.
The summer is gone, Haco, Haco,
The yellow year is fled,
And the winter is come, Haco,
That numbers thee with the dead!
The yellow year is fled,
And the winter is come, Haco,
That numbers thee with the dead!
When the year was young, Haco, Haco,
And the skies were blue and bright,
Thou didst sweep the seas, Haco,
Like a bird with wings of might.
And the skies were blue and bright,
Thou didst sweep the seas, Haco,
Like a bird with wings of might.
With thine oaken galley proudly,
And thy gilded dragon-prow,
O'er the bounding billows, Haco,
Like a sea-god thou didst go.
And thy gilded dragon-prow,
O'er the bounding billows, Haco,
Like a sea-god thou didst go.
With thy barons gaily, gaily,
All in proof of burnished mail,
In the voes of Orkney, Haco,
Thou didst spread thy prideful sail;
All in proof of burnished mail,
In the voes of Orkney, Haco,
Thou didst spread thy prideful sail;
61
And the sturdy men of Caithness,
And the land of the Mackay,
And the men of stony Parf, Haco,
Knew that Norway's king was nigh.
And the land of the Mackay,
And the men of stony Parf, Haco,
Knew that Norway's king was nigh.
And the men of outmost Lewis, Haco,
And Skye, with winding kyles,
And Macdougall's country, Haco,
Knew the monarch of the isles.
And Skye, with winding kyles,
And Macdougall's country, Haco,
Knew the monarch of the isles.
And the granite peaks of Arran,
And the rocks that fence the Clyde,
Saw thy daring Norsemen, Haco,
Ramping o'er the Scottish tide!
And the rocks that fence the Clyde,
Saw thy daring Norsemen, Haco,
Ramping o'er the Scottish tide!
But scaith befell thee, Haco, Haco!
Thou wert faithful, thou wert brave;
But not truth might shield thee, Haco,
From a false and shuffling knave.
Thou wert faithful, thou wert brave;
But not truth might shield thee, Haco,
From a false and shuffling knave.
The crafty King of Scots, Haco,
Who might not bar thy way,
Beguiled thee, honest Haco,
With lies that bred delay.
Who might not bar thy way,
Beguiled thee, honest Haco,
With lies that bred delay.
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And hasty winter, Haco, Haco,
Came and tripped the summer's heels,
And rent the sails of Haco,
And swamped his conquering keels.
Came and tripped the summer's heels,
And rent the sails of Haco,
And swamped his conquering keels.
Woe is me for Haco, Haco!
On Lorn and Mull and Skye
The hundred ships of Haco
In a thousand fragments lie!
On Lorn and Mull and Skye
The hundred ships of Haco
In a thousand fragments lie!
And thine oaken galley, Haco,
That sailed with kingly pride,
Came shorn and shattered, Haco,
Through the foaming Pentland tide.
That sailed with kingly pride,
Came shorn and shattered, Haco,
Through the foaming Pentland tide.
And thy heart sank, Haco, Haco,
And thou felt that thou must die,
When the bay of Kirkwall, Haco,
Thou beheld with drooping eye.
And thou felt that thou must die,
When the bay of Kirkwall, Haco,
Thou beheld with drooping eye.
And they led thee, Haco, Haco,
To the bishop's lordly hall,
Where thy woe-struck barons, Haco,
Stood to see the mighty fall.
To the bishop's lordly hall,
Where thy woe-struck barons, Haco,
Stood to see the mighty fall.
63
And the purple churchmen, Haco,
Stood to hold thy royal head,
And good words of hope to Haco
From the Holy Book they read.
Stood to hold thy royal head,
And good words of hope to Haco
From the Holy Book they read.
Then outspake the dying Haco,
“Dear are God's dear words to me,
But read the book to Haco
Of the kings that ruled the sea.”
“Dear are God's dear words to me,
But read the book to Haco
Of the kings that ruled the sea.”
Then they read to dying Haco,
From the ancient Saga hoar,
Of Holden and of Harold,
When his fathers worshipped Thor.
From the ancient Saga hoar,
Of Holden and of Harold,
When his fathers worshipped Thor.
And they shrove the dying Haco,
And they prayed his bed beside;
And with holy unction Haco
Drooped his kingly head and died.
And they prayed his bed beside;
And with holy unction Haco
Drooped his kingly head and died.
And in parade of death, Haco,
They stretched thee on thy bed,
With a purple vest for Haco,
And a garland on his head.
They stretched thee on thy bed,
With a purple vest for Haco,
And a garland on his head.
64
And around thee, Haco, Haco,
Were tapers burning bright,
And masses were sung for Haco
By day and eke by night.
Were tapers burning bright,
And masses were sung for Haco
By day and eke by night.
And they bore thee, Haco, Haco,
To holy Magnus' shrine,
And beside his sainted bones, Haco,
They chastely coffined thine.
To holy Magnus' shrine,
And beside his sainted bones, Haco,
They chastely coffined thine.
And above thee, Haco, Haco,
To deck thy dreamless bed,
All crisp with gold for Haco,
A purple pall they spread.
To deck thy dreamless bed,
All crisp with gold for Haco,
A purple pall they spread.
And around thee, Haco, Haco,
Where the iron sleep thou slept,
Through the long dark winter, Haco,
A solemn watch they kept.
Where the iron sleep thou slept,
Through the long dark winter, Haco,
A solemn watch they kept.
And at early burst of spring-time,
When the birds sang out with glee,
They took the body of Haco
In a ship across the sea—
When the birds sang out with glee,
They took the body of Haco
In a ship across the sea—
65
Across the sea to Norway,
Where thy sires make moan for thee,
That the last of his race was Haco,
Who ruled the Western sea.
Where thy sires make moan for thee,
That the last of his race was Haco,
Who ruled the Western sea.
And they laid thee, Haco, Haco,
With thy sires on the Norway shore,
And far from the isles of the sea, Haco,
That know thy name no more.
With thy sires on the Norway shore,
And far from the isles of the sea, Haco,
That know thy name no more.
66
STENNIS.
I.
Here on the green marge of the wrinkled lake
Far-winding snake-like, north, south, east, and west,
From these grey stones thy Sabbath sermon take,
And in the lap of hoary memory rest!
Who framed the cirque, who dug the moat, who sleeps
'Neath the soft silence of the old green mound
I shun to ask: Time, the stern warder, keeps
The key of dateless secrets underground.
This only know, when early man appeared,
Scouring the brown heaths of these wind-swept isles,
He had both thought and thews, and proudly reared
These gaunt recorders of his brawny toils.
Like him be thou; and let thy work proclaim
Thy strength, when Time forgets to spell thy name.
67
STENNIS.
II.
These old grey stones, what are they?—pillars reared
By men who lived and died in Orkney land,
Long ere the footsteps shod with peace appeared,
To plant the Cross on this surf-beaten strand;
Pillars that preach high thought and mightful hand
Of men that bravely through grim ocean steered,
And stoutly followed what they proudly planned
Through sweat and blood, nor from their purpose veered.
What men?—Celt or the Teut?—I nothing care,
My loves are with the living, not the dead;
But for strong men who knew to do and dare
I drop the loyal tear and bow the head.
Let gentle moons glide o'er the dumb grey stones
That guard their graves!—I would not vex their bones.
68
MAESHOW.
Thou fair green mound on the wide brown heath
Where the strong-winged breezes blow,
I wonder who the wight might be
That slept thy cone below.
Where the strong-winged breezes blow,
I wonder who the wight might be
That slept thy cone below.
Some haughty Jarl, some Norway King,
A stormy loon, whose life
Was still to risk the chanceful death,
And whet the deathful strife.
A stormy loon, whose life
Was still to risk the chanceful death,
And whet the deathful strife.
A Jarl who swept the seas with war,
And ruled with brawny might,
And where his forceful arm prevailed,
Pronounced his lordship right.
And ruled with brawny might,
And where his forceful arm prevailed,
Pronounced his lordship right.
Or was it a Celt, the primal drift
From the men-dispersing East,
When cravens crouched to Nimrod's name,
And despot power increased,—
From the men-dispersing East,
When cravens crouched to Nimrod's name,
And despot power increased,—
69
The Celt who reared the huge grey stones
That stand and scorn the gale,
Erect in pride of hoary strength,
While creeds and kingdoms fail?
That stand and scorn the gale,
Erect in pride of hoary strength,
While creeds and kingdoms fail?
Or was it a dame, a sorceress,
With charm and ban compelling,
Who framed this grassy mound to roof
Her dark and chambered dwelling,
With charm and ban compelling,
Who framed this grassy mound to roof
Her dark and chambered dwelling,
That she with Hela might converse,
And with the Nornies three,
And to her will bend fearful men
With baneful glamourie?
And with the Nornies three,
And to her will bend fearful men
With baneful glamourie?
Or was it a lady fair and fine,
Of queenly worth, to whom
Her lord, with proud regardful grief,
Upreared this stately tomb?
Of queenly worth, to whom
Her lord, with proud regardful grief,
Upreared this stately tomb?
I know not: but, while thus I mused,
A tall, strong-featured man
Came up to me with torch and key,
And thus to speak began:
A tall, strong-featured man
Came up to me with torch and key,
And thus to speak began:
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“Good sir, if you this mound admire
Without so grassy green,
Within 'twill prick your wonder more,
And tax your wit, I ween.”
Without so grassy green,
Within 'twill prick your wonder more,
And tax your wit, I ween.”
He spoke, and oped the massy door,
And led the way to me,
Thorough a passage long and low,
With mighty masonrie
And led the way to me,
Thorough a passage long and low,
With mighty masonrie
Right bravely fenced; and soon beneath
A chambered vault we stood
Of shapely stones with chilly glance
Of earthy drip bedewed.
A chambered vault we stood
Of shapely stones with chilly glance
Of earthy drip bedewed.
And where the glimmering torch was held—
The tale I tell is true—
A dragon shape upon the wall
Uncouthly came to view.
The tale I tell is true—
A dragon shape upon the wall
Uncouthly came to view.
A dragon of the scaly brood,
Like dire Chimera old,
Transfixed upon the bristling back
By lance of hero bold.
Like dire Chimera old,
Transfixed upon the bristling back
By lance of hero bold.
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A dragon dire, and eke a snake;
A snake, whose glittering twine
Embraced a rod, like Hermes' wand,
I saw with wondering eyne.
A snake, whose glittering twine
Embraced a rod, like Hermes' wand,
I saw with wondering eyne.
And right and left the cold dank wall
Was lettered strangely round
With scripture rude, to tell the tale
Of him who built the mound.
Was lettered strangely round
With scripture rude, to tell the tale
Of him who built the mound.
But what it told of Saga old
And stout sea-roving loons
I might not know: much wiser men
May spell the mystic Runes.
And stout sea-roving loons
I might not know: much wiser men
May spell the mystic Runes.
This only lore my beggar wit
Could eathly understand,
That mighty men had lived of yore,
And died in Orkney land.
Could eathly understand,
That mighty men had lived of yore,
And died in Orkney land.
I left the chilly chamber then,
And through the passage low
I crept, and walked into the light
Where healthful breezes blow;
And through the passage low
I crept, and walked into the light
Where healthful breezes blow;
72
And in the bright blue sky rejoiced,
And in the grassy sod,
And far and free o'er Harra Moor
With lightsome foot I trod.
And in the grassy sod,
And far and free o'er Harra Moor
With lightsome foot I trod.
| Lays of the Highlands and Islands | |