The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Calmly it lieth, limitless and deep,
In windless summer sleep,
And from its fringe, cream-white and set with shells,
A drowsy murmur swells,
While in its shallows, on its yellow sands,
Smiling, uplifting hands,
Moves Balder, beckoning with bright looks and words
The snow-white ocean-birds.
He smiles—the heavens smile answer! All the sea
Is glistering glassily.
Far out, blue-black amid the waters dim,
Leviathan doth swim,
Spouts fountain-wise, roars loud, then sinking slow,
Seeks the green depths below.
All silent. All things sleeping in the light,
And all most calmly bright!

He walks the weed-strewn strand, and where the waves
Creep into granite caves,
Green-paven, silver-fretted, roof'd with rose,
He like a sunbeam goes,
And ocean-creatures know him. The black seal
Out of the darkness steal
With gentle bleat, or with their lambs arise,
Their dark and dewy eyes
Uplooking into his; the cormorants green,
Which ranged in black rows preen
Their dusky plumage, at his footstep's sound
Turn snake-like necks around,
But rise not; o'er his head the white terns fly
With shrill unceasing cry;
And out of caverns come the rock-doves fleet,
Alighting at his feet!
Across the waters darts a shaft supreme
Of strange and heavenly gleam,
That doth his consecrated form enfold
Like to a robe of gold,—
While all the Ocean gladdeneth anew,
Stretch'd bright beneath the blue.

But what is this he findeth on his way,
Here, where the golden ray
Falleth on sands 'neath crimson crags that rise
Dark 'gainst the great blue skies?
What is this shape that, breathing soft and deep,
Lies on its side asleep,
Here on the strand where drifted sea-weeds cling?
Is it some occan thing.

441

Crept from the emerald darkness of the brine
To bask i' the summer shine?
Is it some gentle monster whose green home
Lies far below the foam?
Softly he sleeps, while on his closëd eyes
The summer sunlight lies;
Around his face, that seemeth wildly fair,
Hang tawny locks of hair,
On dusky shoulders falling loosely down;
And lo, his cheeks are brown
With kisses of the sun, and round his limbs
A light like amber swims
Divinely clear; and by his side is thrown
A spear of walrus-bone,
A bear-skin blanket, and a seal-hide thong;
So sleeps he, brown and strong;
And nought that lieth upon land or sea
Seemeth more strange than he,
Like some wild birth of ocean wash'd to land,
And cast upon the sand
With many a drifting weed and waif beside.

‘O Mother!’ Balder cried,
Suddenly falling on his bended knee,
‘What shape is this I see?
It sleeps—it breathes—it lives!’ And Frea said,
Scarce turning her proud head,
‘It is a mortal man not worth thy care!
Ev'n as the birds of the air
They are born, they gladden, and they come and go.’
But Balder, stooping low,
Passing soft fingers o'er the sleeper's side,
And smiling sweetly, cried,
‘Awake, awake!’ and gently from the strand
He raised one strong brown hand.
‘Hush!’ said the pallid goddess, sighing deep,
‘Lest he awake from sleep,
And touch him not, lest from his mortal breath
Thou know'st the taint of Death.’
‘Death!’ Balder echoed with a quick sharp pain;
And Frea spake again,
‘Nought on this nether sphere which foster'd thee,
But drinks mortality;
Fade not the leaf, the lily, and the rose?
Yea, and the oak-tree knows
Only its season;—in their seasons all
Are fashion'd, fade, and fall—
Birds on the boughs, and beasts within the brake,
Yea, ev'n the hawk and snake,
Are born to perish; and this creature shares
An earthly lot like theirs.’
She paused; for suddenly in the bright sun-ray
God Balder's cheeks grew gray
And sunken—his eyes dim;—a moment's space
Across his troubled face
Pass'd darkness. Frea quail'd. A moment more,
And that strange shade pass'd o'er,
And Balder's looks again grew beautiful.

O'erhead, as white as wool,
The calm clouds melted in the burning blue;
Beneath, the great seas grew
Stiller and calmer, while the immortal one
Stood dreaming in the sun,
On that dark sleeper fixing eyes grown bright
With heavenly love and light.

‘O come!’ the goddess cried, and took his hand.
Along the shining strand
They pass'd, but evermore god Balder's face
Turn'd backward to the place
Where he had left the weary wight asleep.

Then, as beside the Deep
They wander'd slowly onward, Frea told
Strange tales and legends old
Of living men, and how they came to be,
And how they bend the knee
To gods they know not, till beneath the sun
They die, and all is done.

And ever her finger pointed as she spoke
To wreaths of light-blue smoke
Upcurling heavenward o'er the sleeping seas
From fishing villages.
Love in his heart and wonder on his brow,
Bright Balder hearken'd now
In silence. ‘Far beyond those lonely woods
And these sea-solitudes,
Peopling the dark Earth, living forms ilke these
Gather as thick as bees:—

442

Shapen like gods, yet perishable; born
For ever night and morn,
And night and morn for ever vanishing.
An old dark doom doth cling
Around them and all kindred things that bloom
Out of the green world's womb.
Heed them not thou! To gods they are no more
Than singing birds that soar
A little flight, and fall. Tho' for a space,
Rear'd in a lowly place,
Thou hast known, as mortals know, Earth's shade and shine,
Another lot is thine!—
To sit among the gods, on heights supreme,
Beyond Man's guess or dream!’