 | Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan |  |
103
THE DEAD MERMAIDEN.
(FOR A PICTURE.)
St. Brandan, coming out of his cell,
On a wild morning,
Hears o'er the yellow ocean-swell
The breakers sob and sing.
On a wild morning,
Hears o'er the yellow ocean-swell
The breakers sob and sing.
All rosy lie the beaten sands
In the morning light;
Wide-winged, between the sky and lands
A cormorant hangs in sight.
In the morning light;
Wide-winged, between the sky and lands
A cormorant hangs in sight.
The sea-weeds heapèd dank and brown
Are high and low;
Upon the sand-hills' shifting crown
The drenched gulls sit a-row.
Are high and low;
Upon the sand-hills' shifting crown
The drenched gulls sit a-row.
St. Brandan lifting up his hands
In the new morning,
Praiseth the Lord of sea and lands;
The breakers shrilly sing.
In the new morning,
Praiseth the Lord of sea and lands;
The breakers shrilly sing.
104
St. Brandan raising yet his hands,
With reverent breath,
Prayeth for mariners of all lands
Whom last night brought to death.
With reverent breath,
Prayeth for mariners of all lands
Whom last night brought to death.
But what is this the waves bring close?
Tossed to and fro—
This delicate thing of gold and rose,
And whiter than the snow?
Tossed to and fro—
This delicate thing of gold and rose,
And whiter than the snow?
This thing of rose and snow and gold,
Shaped fair withal?
Lost from the sea-king's palace cold?
A mermaid such they call.
Shaped fair withal?
Lost from the sea-king's palace cold?
A mermaid such they call.
The kindly sea-weed drapes her fair
Down from the waist;
The diamond sands are in her hair
And sparkle on her breast.
Down from the waist;
The diamond sands are in her hair
And sparkle on her breast.
He draws her in; his eyes are dim,
His thoughts are faint;
This seems as sweet a thing to him
As any savèd Saint.
His thoughts are faint;
This seems as sweet a thing to him
As any savèd Saint.
As any Saint that brings him balm
In a troubled hour,
Dorothy with her rose and plam
Or Barbara with her tower.
In a troubled hour,
Dorothy with her rose and plam
Or Barbara with her tower.
105
He kneels him down; he needs must weep
She looks so mild,
This half a creature of the deep
And half a maiden-child.
She looks so mild,
This half a creature of the deep
And half a maiden-child.
Upon her closed eyes mild and meek
The tears have dried,
The hues of death are in her cheek,
The rocks have gored her side.
The tears have dried,
The hues of death are in her cheek,
The rocks have gored her side.
Sudden he lifts his hands above
Prays with a cry:
Christ Jesus, the dear Lord of Love,
Sits in His palace high.
Prays with a cry:
Christ Jesus, the dear Lord of Love,
Sits in His palace high.
Christ Jesus bends Him low to hear,
And holds His breath:
“Now for true service many a year,
A soul”—St. Brandan saith—
And holds His breath:
“Now for true service many a year,
A soul”—St. Brandan saith—
“A soul, a soul, my Master dear,”
He prayeth still,
The tender She pherd smiles to hear—
His servant pleads not ill.
He prayeth still,
The tender She pherd smiles to hear—
His servant pleads not ill.
Nay, well as him who anciently
Wrestled amain,
And would not let the angel be:
Of blessing he was fain.
Wrestled amain,
And would not let the angel be:
Of blessing he was fain.
106
Sudden the mermaid opes her eyes,
And “Jesus” saith,
But scarce might speak for windy sighs
That strangle still her breath.
And “Jesus” saith,
But scarce might speak for windy sighs
That strangle still her breath.
Yet “Jesus!” saith and with the name
Grows bright to see,
As though within her form a flame
Doth burn up joyously.
Grows bright to see,
As though within her form a flame
Doth burn up joyously.
St Brandan rises up from her
And hasteneth where
A little pool of rain water
Lies in the rock-face bare;
And hasteneth where
A little pool of rain water
Lies in the rock-face bare;
And gathers in his hollow palm,
And comes again,
And pours it on her forehead calm,
The dew of Heaven's rain.
And comes again,
And pours it on her forehead calm,
The dew of Heaven's rain.
With Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Is baptism given;
Never shall this dear soul be lost
That preens its wings for heaven.
Is baptism given;
Never shall this dear soul be lost
That preens its wings for heaven.
That taketh flight; yea, even now
The bird hath flown;
St. Brandan with his hidden brow
Is praying here alone.
The bird hath flown;
St. Brandan with his hidden brow
Is praying here alone.
107
He makes her grave in holy earth,
In blessèd ground:
Of mourners there shall be no dearth,
The grey gulls cry around.
In blessèd ground:
Of mourners there shall be no dearth,
The grey gulls cry around.
The cormorant hangs no more anigh,
He is fled home;
His little ones cry hungrily
Fishing beside the foam.
He is fled home;
His little ones cry hungrily
Fishing beside the foam.
The muddy breakers sigh to sleep,
The moon is white;
In a sea-palace fathoms deep
Are tears and death and night.
The moon is white;
In a sea-palace fathoms deep
Are tears and death and night.
| Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan | |