The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) ::

The hour was one of mystery,
When we were sailing, she and I,
Down the dark, the silent, stream.
The stars above were dim with love;
And the wandering airs beneath
Did from odorous woodlands breathe
Faint as when light whispers move
Fresh-kist lips, whose sighs betray
Whither wishful fancies stray
Thro' a slumbering maiden's dream;
While round and round the night we wound,
Till we came, at last, to the Isle of Fays.
And all the while from the faëry isle
That music, that music of other days!

II.

It was the mellow midst of June.
And the sudden silent moon
Rising (as our bark we left
On the bank) from out a cleft
In a piney mountain, beam'd
First red, then wondrous white.
A goblin glory gleam'd
From the Palace; and, with that light,
The sound of the viols stream'd
Thro' the casements over the night.

153

We saw the dancers pass
At the casements, two by two.
The dew was in the grass,
And the glow-worm in the dew.

III.

We came to the Palace. We mounted the stair.
The great hall-doors wide open were.
And all the dancers that danced in that hall
Greeted us to the festival.
Only, each noble cavalier
Had his throat red-lined from ear to ear:
'Twas a collar of merit, I have heard,
Which a queen upon each had once conferr'd:
And each of the lovely ladies there,
With subtle eyes and floating hair,
Whenever she laugh'd, or smiled, let slip
What seem'd to me the shadowy tip
Of a little mouse's tail, that stirr'd
In the dimpling warmth of a wanton lip.
A mist of magical splendour lay
Along the opiate air; and, thro'
The rosy light of the languerous haze,
Forth from the deep-toned orchestra
Came flowing, heavy with sounds I knew,
That music of other days.

IV.

My arm enlaced her winsome waist,
And down the dance we two,
Wound in one, with locks undone
And mingled footsteps, flew.
But, in the midst of the melody,
Low at mine ear I heard her sigh,

154

And paler her bright cheek grew.
“What aileth thee?” Low moan made she,
“The roof will fall tonight on this hall!
Already the rafters are reeling above.
But the outside air is quiet and fair.
Lead me into the grove.”

V.

We wander'd into the grove. We found
A bower by woodbine woven round.
The music made a mellower sound.
Her long hair gamboll'd glittering
Over her scarlet, green, and violet vesture
In a cataract of amber light;
And the moon's magnificence did cling
Close about her, like a glorious clothing.
All at once, a sudden snowy gesture
Of her white hand flash'd upon my sight,
Much against my will, the golden ring;
Which, meanwhile, I had forgotten quite;
Else, it might have mingled love with loathing.

VI.

Then I said “O beauty bounteous fair!
“The abundant brightness of thine hair.
Never seem'd more bountifully bright.
The moon is fair, and the sweet air
Is sighing with excess of fond delight.
Here let us, therefore, stay, till the star of the dawning day
Gives warning to the watchers of the night
That the world is aware, and they
Who have secrets to hide from a world grown grey
Must hasten out of sight.”

155

VII.

“That may not be,” she answer'd me,
“For I was lately wed
With this gold ring to an Ogre King.
My husband is old,” she said,
“Old and grey; therefore all day
My little harp I softly play,
Playing to him, till his eyes wax dim,
And he calls for his posset cup.
But into the brewage I pour
A juice which he drinks thirstily up
And sleeps till the night is o'er.
Then, finger on lip, away I slip,
And down the hills till I reach the stream.
I call to thee clear till the boat appear,
And we sail together thro' dark and dream.
But, if he should wake and not find me,
Over brook, thoro' brake, and by turret and tree,
He will follow me fast, and find us at last,
Bursting into the woodbine bower.
For, tho' woven well, neither charm nor spell
In the presence of him hath power.
The shy fays and elves can take care of themselves:
For the island is theirs, and they know
That, for their sweet sakes, the forests and brakes
Will hide them from every foe:
And little heed of what may befall
Have the knights who are dancing in yonder hall,
For, with or without their heads,—(they all
Carry them loose, and carry them so
Never for use, but only for show,
Since what heads they had once they have lost long ago)
Each, as fast as he may, well to horse and away

156

Over brook and bramble and stone;
And each dame of the house
Hath a little dun mouse
That will whisper her when to be gone,
(For never yet was there any device
Crafty enough to catch those little mice;
They have play'd their pranks so oft ere now
That they are wary, and full well know
How to look after their own)
But we, ah love, in the trampled grove
We shall be left alone,
Follow'd and found by the fate we fled,
Trapp'd and caught by the curse we dread,
And by our own doing undone!”

V.

I stood up in the strong moonshine,
And both her hands I held in mine.
I held them fast, she could not stir,
And bitterly I cried to her
“Look in my face. My cheek is white,
My back is bow'd, before the time,
From plucking magic herbs by night,
And weaving many a wizard rhyme,
And all for thee! yet all in vain
The wizard's wondrous art is mine,
Tho' over subtle spirits I reign,
And starry genii half divine,
If one brute fact in flesh and blood,—
All body with no soul,—hath power,
Even in the haunted solitude
Of this elf-builded woodbine bower,
To bar my will, and blast my bliss,

157

And make thee, what thou would'st not be,
—Not mine whom thou hast sought, but his
From whom my spells have rescued thee.”
I loosed her hands. She did not stir.
The moonlight flow'd 'twixt me and her,
And, where the moonlight bathed the ground,
A lute, with loveknots gaily bound,
Left in the woodbine bower I found.
I seized the lute, and struck the chords:
With music wild I mix'd wild words:
Down at her feet my limbs I flung,
And, looking under her eyelids, sung
“Sigh no more! try no more
So to fight with fate, sweet!
Error went too fast before,
Caution comes too late, sweet.
Grief is making up her store:
We may let her wait, sweet.
Sigh no more! I no more
May avert, nor thou restore
What's to come and what is o'er,
Be it love or hate, sweet.”

IX.

Like the slow soft settling down
Over earth and over heaven
Of a southern summer even,
Dark, with trembling starlight strown,
Slowly, slowly over me
Warm delicious darkness grew;
Not unlit,—for I could see
Eyes love-languid beaming thro'
That sweet darkness. Then I threw

158

Mine arms (to slake a spirit's drowth)
All around it, and down-drew
Brows, and breast, and breathing mouth,
Till their mingled sweetness stoop'd,
Pausing on me, and we droop'd
And sunk together,—drooping sinking
Whither? Ah, there was no thinking
Then, and now there is no knowing
Whither! but by sweet swift ways
Downward ever; and all the while
Round about us, flowing, flowing,
From the flutes and lutes of the elves and fays,
Out of the midst of the moonlit isle
That music of other days!

X.

Oh, if it were but a dream of the night,
A dream that I dream'd in sleep,
Then why is my cheek so woeful white,
And this wound in my heart so deep?
And, if it were but a dream, it broke
Too soon, albeit too late I awoke,
Waked by the smart of a sudden stroke
Which hath stunn'd me so, and stupified,
That I cannot remember, nor ever shall,
What was the close of that festival,
Nor when from out of their wizard hall
Fled the knights and the dames and the dancers all.
One thing only methinks I know,
And that is the weight of an Ogre's blow.
Yet still at times I seem to hear
Chaunted, perchance, by elves and fays,

159

But mixt with the moan of a dismal tide
That washes an island desert and drear
Where a house hath fallen, and some one hath died,
Faintly, fitfully floating near
Along the lonesome and leafless ways,
That maddening music of other days.

University of Virginia Library

MYSTERY.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

V.

IX.

X.