XI. [Sad! I am sad indeed]
Sad! I am sad indeed; nor small my cause of woe!
Sad! I am sad indeed; nor small my cause of woe! Kirmor,
thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty.
Connar the valiant lives; and Annir, the fairest of maids. The
boughs of thy family flourish, O Kirmor! but Armyn is the last
of his race.
Dark is thy bed, O Daura! and deep thy sleep in
the tomb. When shalt thou awake with thy songs? with all thy
voice of music?
Rise, winds of autumn, rise; blow upon the dark heath!
streams of the mountains, roar! howl, ye tempests, in the top
of the oak! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show by intervals
thy pale face; bring to my mind that sad night, when all
my children fell; when Arindel the mighty fell; when Daura
the lovely failed; when all my children died.
Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the moon on
the hills of Jura; white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing
gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong, thy spear was swift in
the field: thy look was like mist on the wave; thy shield, a red
cloud in a storm. Armor, renowned in war, came, and sought
Daura's love; he was not long denied; fair was the hope of their
friends.
Earch, son of Odgal, repined; for his brother was slain by
Armor. He came disguised like the son of the sea: Fair was
his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious
brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armyn!
a rock not distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red shines
the fruit afar. There Armor waiteth for Daura. I came to
fetch his love. Come, fair daughter of Armyn!
She went; and she called on Armor. Nought answered but
the son of the rock. Armor, my love! my love! why tormentest
thou me with fear? hear, son of Ardnart, hear: it is Daura
who calleth thee! Earch the traitor fled laughing to the land.
She lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father.
Arindel! Armyn! none to relieve your Daura!
Her voice came over the sea. Arindel, my son, descended
from the hill; rough in the spoils of the chace. His arrows
rattled by his side; his bow was in his hand; five dark grey
dogs attended his steps. He saw fierce Earch on the shore;
he seized, and bound him to an oak. Thick fly the thongs of
the hide around his limbs; he loads the wind with his groans.
Arindel ascends the surgy deep in his boat, to bring Daura
to the land. Armor came in his wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered
shaft. It sung; it sunk in thy heart, O Arindel, my
son! for Earch the traitor thou diedst. The oar is stopt at
once; he panted on the rock, and expired. What is thy grief,
O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood!
The boat is broken in twain by the waves. Armor plunges
into the sea, to rescue his Daura, or die. Sudden a blast from
the hill comes over the waves. He sunk, and he rose no more.
Alone, on the sea-rock, my daughter was heard to complain.
Frequent and loud were her cries; nor could her father relieve
her. All night I stood on the shore. I saw her by the faint
beam of the moon. Loud was the wind; and the rain beat hard
on the side of the mountain. Before morning appeared, her
voice was weak. It died away, like the evening breeze among
the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief she expired. And left
thee, Armyn, alone: gone is my strength in the war, and fallen
my pride among women.
When the storms of the mountain come; when the north lifts
the waves on high; I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the
fatal rock. Often, by the setting moon, I see the ghosts of my
children. Half-viewless, they walk in mournful conference together.
Will none of you speak in pity? They do not regard
their father.
