Ballads of the North and Other Poems By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton King |
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THE BALLAD OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN.
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 | Ballads of the North and Other Poems |  |
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THE BALLAD OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN.
1883.
PART I.
The still white coast at Midsummer,
Beside the still white sea,
Lay low and smooth and shining
In this year eighty-three;
The sun was in the very North,
Strange to see.
Beside the still white sea,
Lay low and smooth and shining
In this year eighty-three;
The sun was in the very North,
Strange to see.
The walrus ivory lay in heaps
Half-buried in the shore,
The slow stream slid o'er unknown beds
Of golden ore,
Washings of amber to the beach
Light waves bore.
Half-buried in the shore,
The slow stream slid o'er unknown beds
Of golden ore,
Washings of amber to the beach
Light waves bore.
4
Sprays of white, like foam-flowers,
Betwixt the skies and seas,
Swayed and poised the sea-gulls
In twos and threes,
Clustered like the stars men call
Pleiades.
Betwixt the skies and seas,
Swayed and poised the sea-gulls
In twos and threes,
Clustered like the stars men call
Pleiades.
The white marsh-flowers, the white marsh-grass
Shimmered amid the grey
Of the marsh-water—mirrored
Over and under, they
Stood stiff and tall and slender,
All one way.
Shimmered amid the grey
Of the marsh-water—mirrored
Over and under, they
Stood stiff and tall and slender,
All one way.
The upper spake to the lower,
‘Are ye, or do ye seem?’
Out of the dim marsh-water
Glided as in a dream
The still swans down a distance
Of moonbeam.
‘Are ye, or do ye seem?’
Out of the dim marsh-water
Glided as in a dream
The still swans down a distance
Of moonbeam.
5
The willow-warbler dropped from the spray
Sweet notes like a soft spring shower,
There was a twitter of building birds
In the blackthorn bower,
All broken from bare to gossamer
In an hour.
Sweet notes like a soft spring shower,
There was a twitter of building birds
In the blackthorn bower,
All broken from bare to gossamer
In an hour.
A garden white lay all the land
In wreaths of summer snow,
The heart of the year upspringing
Swift and aglow,
In pale flame and slender stalk,
Smooth and low.
In wreaths of summer snow,
The heart of the year upspringing
Swift and aglow,
In pale flame and slender stalk,
Smooth and low.
The white heath and white harebell
Let their chimes rise and fall,
The delicate sheets of wood-sorrel
Unfolded all,
For a bed of bridal—
Or a pall?
Let their chimes rise and fall,
The delicate sheets of wood-sorrel
Unfolded all,
For a bed of bridal—
Or a pall?
6
Powdered with pearl, auriculas,
And beds of snowdrop sheen,
Frostwork of saxifrage, and fair balls
Of winter green:
There was no room for foot to pass
In between.
And beds of snowdrop sheen,
Frostwork of saxifrage, and fair balls
Of winter green:
There was no room for foot to pass
In between.
One only pink, the fragrant bloom
Of all blooms boreal,
Every face of every flower
With looks funereal
Bent to earth, and faintly
Flowering all.
Of all blooms boreal,
Every face of every flower
With looks funereal
Bent to earth, and faintly
Flowering all.
Down in the closely crowded camp
Of the fresh snowdrops lay,
Fever and famine-stricken,
None his name to say,
Sick to death, a traveller
Cast away.
Of the fresh snowdrops lay,
Fever and famine-stricken,
None his name to say,
Sick to death, a traveller
Cast away.
7
Brother might be of Balder
The beautiful, the bold,
By Northern stature and by limbs'
Heroic mould,
And the uncurled faint hair
Of pale gold.
The beautiful, the bold,
By Northern stature and by limbs'
Heroic mould,
And the uncurled faint hair
Of pale gold.
Faintly the words were uttered,
Low, betwixt moan and moan:
‘Here in the wilderness,
Lost and alone,
I die, and far away,
Hast thou known?
Low, betwixt moan and moan:
‘Here in the wilderness,
Lost and alone,
I die, and far away,
Hast thou known?
Fame, and story of wonder,
Wind of rumour had blown
My name to thine, my feet
Up to thy throne:
What has the world been since?—
Thee alone.
Wind of rumour had blown
My name to thine, my feet
Up to thy throne:
What has the world been since?—
Thee alone.
8
I passed and bowed before thy face,
And once thine eyes met mine;
Once I have kissed thy hand;—
Hast thou no sign?
Here with my last sad breath
I am thine.’
And once thine eyes met mine;
Once I have kissed thy hand;—
Hast thou no sign?
Here with my last sad breath
I am thine.’
The white hares nibbled fearlessly
Among the tender green;
The silver foxes stayed and watched,
Quick-eyed and watched,
The little ermine soft of foot
Stole between.
Among the tender green;
The silver foxes stayed and watched,
Quick-eyed and watched,
The little ermine soft of foot
Stole between.
But the white world changed and quickened
To a red world, the same;
For with splendour as of sunset
And sunrise flame,
From the highest heaven to the lowest,
Midnight came.
To a red world, the same;
For with splendour as of sunset
And sunrise flame,
From the highest heaven to the lowest,
Midnight came.
9
The pulsing colours of the sky
Deepened and purified;
All glorious chords of gold and red
Struck out and died;
Stilled in one heavenly harmony
Spread out wide,
Deepened and purified;
All glorious chords of gold and red
Struck out and died;
Stilled in one heavenly harmony
Spread out wide,
In one ethereal crimson glow;
As if the Rose of Heaven
Had blossomed for one perfect hour,
Midsummer Even,
As ever in the mystic sphere
Of stars seven.
As if the Rose of Heaven
Had blossomed for one perfect hour,
Midsummer Even,
As ever in the mystic sphere
Of stars seven.
An opening blush of purest pink,
That swiftly streams and grows
As shoreward all the liquid waste
Enkindled flows,
Every ripple of all the sea
Rose on Rose.
That swiftly streams and grows
As shoreward all the liquid waste
Enkindled flows,
Every ripple of all the sea
Rose on Rose.
10
—Through the heavens of midnight
Came a bitter cry,
Flesh and spirit breaking,
Mortal agony;
Died away unanswered
Through the sky.—
Came a bitter cry,
Flesh and spirit breaking,
Mortal agony;
Died away unanswered
Through the sky.—
But all the dim blue South was filled
With the auroral flame,
Far out into the southward land
Without a name
That dreamed away into the dark,—
When One came,
With the auroral flame,
Far out into the southward land
Without a name
That dreamed away into the dark,—
When One came,
Suddenly came stepping,
Where the roseate rift
Of the boreal blossoms
Crossed the snowy drift
In a trailing pathway,
Straight and swift.
Where the roseate rift
Of the boreal blossoms
Crossed the snowy drift
In a trailing pathway,
Straight and swift.
11
Her robes were full and silken,
Her feet were silken-shod,
In sweeping stately silence,
Serene she trod
The starry carpets strewing
The soft sod.
Her feet were silken-shod,
In sweeping stately silence,
Serene she trod
The starry carpets strewing
The soft sod.
The eyes of the veronica
Looked out and far away,
A golden wreath around her head
Of light curls lay,
And rippled back a shining shower,
In bright array.
Looked out and far away,
A golden wreath around her head
Of light curls lay,
And rippled back a shining shower,
In bright array.
About her neck the diamonds flashed
In rivers of blue fire;
But whiter her soft shoulders than
Her white attire,
And tenderer her tender arms
Than heart's desire.
In rivers of blue fire;
But whiter her soft shoulders than
Her white attire,
And tenderer her tender arms
Than heart's desire.
12
She fronted full the crimson flood
Of all the Northern space,
And all the hue of all the sky
Was in her face;
The Rose of all the World has come
To this place.
Of all the Northern space,
And all the hue of all the sky
Was in her face;
The Rose of all the World has come
To this place.
A vision of white that glowed to red
With the fire at heaven, at heart,—
Nor paused nor turned,—but straight to him
Who lay apart,
On she came, and knelt by him,—
Here thou art!
With the fire at heaven, at heart,—
Nor paused nor turned,—but straight to him
Who lay apart,
On she came, and knelt by him,—
Here thou art!
At the first hour after midnight,
As in the eider's nest,
The weary head sank soft into
A heavenly rest;
Is it a bed of roses,—
Or her breast?
As in the eider's nest,
The weary head sank soft into
A heavenly rest;
Is it a bed of roses,—
Or her breast?
13
At the second hour the cold limbs
Felt comfort unaware;
Flickering, a golden glow
Warmed all the air:
Is it the hearth-flame lighted,—
Or her hair?
Felt comfort unaware;
Flickering, a golden glow
Warmed all the air:
Is it the hearth-flame lighted,—
Or her hair?
At the third hour, round the faint heart
Failing in chill alarms,
Is it some silken coverlet
Still wraps and warms
In close and closer clasping?—
Or her arms?
Failing in chill alarms,
Is it some silken coverlet
Still wraps and warms
In close and closer clasping?—
Or her arms?
At the fourth hour, to the wan lips
There came a draught divine:
Some last reviving cup poured out
Of hallowed wine,—
Or is it breath of hers
Mixed with thine?
There came a draught divine:
Some last reviving cup poured out
Of hallowed wine,—
Or is it breath of hers
Mixed with thine?
14
At the fifth hour all was dimness
Alike to him and her;
One low and passionate murmur
Still moved the air;
Is it the voice of angels,—
Or her prayer?
Alike to him and her;
One low and passionate murmur
Still moved the air;
Is it the voice of angels,—
Or her prayer?
At the sixth hour there stirred only
The soft wave on the beach;
Two were lying stilly,
Past sound or speech,
Fair and carven faces,
Each by each.
The soft wave on the beach;
Two were lying stilly,
Past sound or speech,
Fair and carven faces,
Each by each.
PART II.
The Summer Palace stood by night
Lit up in dazzling sheen,
The doors unfolded, and the pomp
Stirred in between;
—To a burst of royal music
Came the Queen.
Lit up in dazzling sheen,
The doors unfolded, and the pomp
Stirred in between;
—To a burst of royal music
Came the Queen.
15
Her eyes like stars of speedwell
Shone down the great saloon;
She came, and all before her
Knew it was June;
The passing of her presence
Was too soon.
Shone down the great saloon;
She came, and all before her
Knew it was June;
The passing of her presence
Was too soon.
The little curls around her head
Were all her crown of gold,
Her delicate arms drooped downward
In slender mould,
As white-veined leaves of lilies
Curve and fold.
Were all her crown of gold,
Her delicate arms drooped downward
In slender mould,
As white-veined leaves of lilies
Curve and fold.
All in white,—not ivory
For young bloom past away,—
Blossom-white, rose-white,
White of the May;
'Twixt white dress and white neck,
Who could say?
For young bloom past away,—
Blossom-white, rose-white,
White of the May;
'Twixt white dress and white neck,
Who could say?
16
She moved to measure of music,
As a swan sails the stream;
Where her looks fell was summer,
When she smiled was a dream;
All faces bowing towards her
Sunflowers seem.
As a swan sails the stream;
Where her looks fell was summer,
When she smiled was a dream;
All faces bowing towards her
Sunflowers seem.
O the rose upon her silent mouth,
The perfect rose that lies!
O the roses red, the roses deep,
Within her cheeks that rise!
O the rose of rapture of her face
To our eyes!
The perfect rose that lies!
O the roses red, the roses deep,
Within her cheeks that rise!
O the rose of rapture of her face
To our eyes!
The tall fair Princes smile and sigh
For grace of one sweet glance,
The glittering dancers fill the floor,
The Queen leads the dance;
The dial-hands to midnight
Still advance.
For grace of one sweet glance,
The glittering dancers fill the floor,
The Queen leads the dance;
The dial-hands to midnight
Still advance.
17
Dance down to the melting music!
Hark to the viols' strain!
Their notes are piercing, piercing,
Again, again;
The pulse of the air is beating
Throbs of pain.
Hark to the viols' strain!
Their notes are piercing, piercing,
Again, again;
The pulse of the air is beating
Throbs of pain.
Does the dancing languish slower?
Oh, the soft flutes wail and sigh;
In silver falling and calling,
They seek reply;
And the heart is sinking, sinking,
Why, ah why?
Oh, the soft flutes wail and sigh;
In silver falling and calling,
They seek reply;
And the heart is sinking, sinking,
Why, ah why?
Oh, the high harp-strings resounding!
So long, so clear they are:
A cry is ringing in heaven
From star to star,
Rising sharper and fainter
From afar.
So long, so clear they are:
A cry is ringing in heaven
From star to star,
Rising sharper and fainter
From afar.
18
The Queen has danced from end to end;
Oh, the candles burn so bright!
But her blue eyes look far away
Into the night;
And the roses on her cheeks and lips
Have grown white.
Oh, the candles burn so bright!
But her blue eyes look far away
Into the night;
And the roses on her cheeks and lips
Have grown white.
Oh, why is the Queen so pale to-night?
And why does silence fall,
As one by one they turn to her,
Upon them all?
Whence comes that cold wind shivering
Down the hall?
And why does silence fall,
As one by one they turn to her,
Upon them all?
Whence comes that cold wind shivering
Down the hall?
The hour draws close to midnight,
The banquet board is spread;
The lamps are lit, the guests are set,
The Queen at the head:
For the feasting at kings' tables
Grace be said!
The banquet board is spread;
The lamps are lit, the guests are set,
The Queen at the head:
For the feasting at kings' tables
Grace be said!
19
The shaded light of rubies
Streams from every part
Down the golden supper;—
Who is sick at heart?
Oh, hush! for the Queen is listening,
Lips apart.
Streams from every part
Down the golden supper;—
Who is sick at heart?
Oh, hush! for the Queen is listening,
Lips apart.
She sits with wide and open eyes,
The wine-cup in her hand;
And all the guests are ill at ease,
Nor understand;
Is it not some enchanted
Strange far land?
The wine-cup in her hand;
And all the guests are ill at ease,
Nor understand;
Is it not some enchanted
Strange far land?
The twelve long strokes of midnight
With clash and clang affright;
The rose-glow seems to darken
Before their sight;
But the Queen has swooned back heavily,
Cold and white.
With clash and clang affright;
The rose-glow seems to darken
Before their sight;
But the Queen has swooned back heavily,
Cold and white.
20
They lifted her, a burden
Like broken lily-flowers;
They laid her on her own bed,
Within her bowers;
They mourned, and they tended her,
For six hours.
Like broken lily-flowers;
They laid her on her own bed,
Within her bowers;
They mourned, and they tended her,
For six hours.
At the first hour after midnight,
The Queen nor spoke nor stirred;
At the second, by her bedside,
No breath they heard;
They said, ‘Is she living?’
At the third.
The Queen nor spoke nor stirred;
At the second, by her bedside,
No breath they heard;
They said, ‘Is she living?’
At the third.
At the fourth hour they watched sadly
At her feet and her head;
At the fifth, standing idle,
No word they said;
At the sixth, ‘Bring candles
For one dead.’
At her feet and her head;
At the fifth, standing idle,
No word they said;
At the sixth, ‘Bring candles
For one dead.’
21
Swept low down across the East,
Through the morning grey,
A flock of white clouds swiftly,
Dim, far away;
Like a flight of white wings:—
What were they?
Through the morning grey,
A flock of white clouds swiftly,
Dim, far away;
Like a flight of white wings:—
What were they?
Through the palace suddenly,
Through every floor,
Wailed a wind and whistled,
Shook every door,
Rattled through the windows,
Then passed o'er.
Through every floor,
Wailed a wind and whistled,
Shook every door,
Rattled through the windows,
Then passed o'er.
And as they stood with tapers tall
Around the Queen, there came
A soft and far-off fluttering
Over her frame,
And from between her sleeping lips,
One faint flame.
Around the Queen, there came
A soft and far-off fluttering
Over her frame,
And from between her sleeping lips,
One faint flame.
22
They take her hand, they call on her,
She answers them likewise;
She sits upright, she looks around,
With her blue eyes,
And a smile as of thy secrets,
Paradise!
She answers them likewise;
She sits upright, she looks around,
With her blue eyes,
And a smile as of thy secrets,
Paradise!
Winter is here, and has not brought
The Traveller of renown;
Why has he not come back again
To court and town?
Rumours and questionings pass
Up and down.
The Traveller of renown;
Why has he not come back again
To court and town?
Rumours and questionings pass
Up and down.
Is it only the wolves of the Northland
Know where his bones lie white?
Only the swans could tell us,
In southward flight?
Is it only the wind could whisper
To the night?
Know where his bones lie white?
Only the swans could tell us,
In southward flight?
Is it only the wind could whisper
To the night?
23
The Queen sits still and smiling,
She hears the talk prevail,
She speaks no word, she gives no glance,
She tells no tale;
In the golden shadow always
She is pale.
She hears the talk prevail,
She speaks no word, she gives no glance,
She tells no tale;
In the golden shadow always
She is pale.
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