 | Poems Lyrical and Dramatic |  |
171
THE STORM-GOD.
What sees the lady below the tide?
Faint her smile as the fitful sea,
For her dreams be of him that shall call her his bride
In the far lands nigh unto Araby:
And the mariner rough as he steers in her sight,
Exults in the pride of a trust so fair.
But the Storm-god, passing alone that night,
Fell sick unto death of her flaxen hair,
Sick of the light in her hazel eyes,
And sick of her flaxen hair.
Faint her smile as the fitful sea,
For her dreams be of him that shall call her his bride
In the far lands nigh unto Araby:
And the mariner rough as he steers in her sight,
Exults in the pride of a trust so fair.
But the Storm-god, passing alone that night,
Fell sick unto death of her flaxen hair,
Sick of the light in her hazel eyes,
And sick of her flaxen hair.
Then the winds sprang up, and the surges arose,
And fell each over other in foam and wrath,
But the good ship cleft through their whirlwind of snows
For her and the maiden an onward path,
And was glad, as she leaned to the speed of her flight,
So gentle a thing through the tempest to bear;
But the Storm-god stooped in the thick of the night,
And was quenched of his thirst for her flaxen hair,
Drank of the light in her hazel eyes,
And was quenched of her flaxen hair.
And fell each over other in foam and wrath,
But the good ship cleft through their whirlwind of snows
For her and the maiden an onward path,
172
So gentle a thing through the tempest to bear;
But the Storm-god stooped in the thick of the night,
And was quenched of his thirst for her flaxen hair,
Drank of the light in her hazel eyes,
And was quenched of her flaxen hair.
Then he smote the ship with his heavy hand,
And shattered to splinters her masts and spars,
And the stout planks, loosened from bolt and band,
Lay scattered abroad by the reefs and bars,
While he bore her alone in the black of the cloud,
Alone in the red of the lightning's glare,
And made for her bosom a silken shroud
Of the tangled threads of her flaxen hair;
For he saw death smile in her hazel eyes,
And death in her flaxen hair.
And shattered to splinters her masts and spars,
And the stout planks, loosened from bolt and band,
Lay scattered abroad by the reefs and bars,
While he bore her alone in the black of the cloud,
Alone in the red of the lightning's glare,
And made for her bosom a silken shroud
Of the tangled threads of her flaxen hair;
For he saw death smile in her hazel eyes,
And death in her flaxen hair.
And the people that dwell on the Afric coast,
Down by the brink of the burning sea,
Are smitten with fear through their swarthy host,
And quake and tremble exceedingly;
And the wise men are singing of famine and dearth
If none of the tribe at his peril shall dare
To lift her that is not a woman of earth
But a spirit of beauty with starry hair,
With the light of the sea in her great wild eyes,
And the sea in her starry hair.
Down by the brink of the burning sea,
Are smitten with fear through their swarthy host,
And quake and tremble exceedingly;
173
If none of the tribe at his peril shall dare
To lift her that is not a woman of earth
But a spirit of beauty with starry hair,
With the light of the sea in her great wild eyes,
And the sea in her starry hair.
But they bend around by the barren shore,
And worship the wraith in the windless wave,
Which, turning the white arms o'er and o'er,
Is banking about her a golden grave:
Till a stern swart devil of battle-grips
Has raised her with reverent wondering care,
And brushes the froth from her angel lips
And the coral stems from her flaxen hair:
But he died of the light in her hazel eyes
And the touch of her flaxen hair.
And worship the wraith in the windless wave,
Which, turning the white arms o'er and o'er,
Is banking about her a golden grave:
Till a stern swart devil of battle-grips
Has raised her with reverent wondering care,
And brushes the froth from her angel lips
And the coral stems from her flaxen hair:
But he died of the light in her hazel eyes
And the touch of her flaxen hair.
| Poems Lyrical and Dramatic | |